High above, Tangxue watched a floating mass of blood, calm as frost on a still lake.

The blood churned in the air like a storm-tossed sea, then knit itself back into Crimson Goose.

Crimson Goose’s face was ashen; she had reformed, yet an arm was gone forever, a wound even the Blood Reservoir couldn’t restore.

"Not bad—keep self-detonating; a few more blasts might flatten the Duskmoon Empire," Tangxue said, her voice light as falling snow.

"But if you’re trying to blow me up, you’re not qualified."

"From the moment you unleashed that vast magic, I knew you weren’t trying to kill me."

"If I’m right, you wanted to force me to save Qianyue, then slip away alone, like a fox into mist."

"Too bad—I didn’t go." Tangxue’s tone cooled like a winter blade. "I truly want you dead, and I trust Qianyue."

"An explosion like that won’t touch her."

"I bet only the first thing you said was true!" Crimson Goose shouted, anger burning like dry tinder.

For Crimson Goose, this was checkmate; she hadn’t expected the short, unassuming girl to be the strongest, a blade hidden in snow.

She had wanted to run; Tangxue’s guess hit like a bell tolling through fog.

"I can’t accept it…" Her voice cracked like old porcelain. "Why does that woman always have someone to shield her?"

"For two thousand years I bent my back for the Empire," she said, an autumn wind in her chest.

"Whether aiding the Vinoina clan to purge Vampires, or helping the former queen rebuild, I was the one who gave everything."

She let out a bitter laugh, thin as winter sunlight.

"I thought I was closest to the former queen—she was my cousin."

From the day she took the throne, I stood behind her like a shadow, and I honored her in silence."

"Until a month before she retired," she whispered, like dusk closing a gate.

"She found a little girl from nowhere. The throne should have been mine, yet she broke her word."

"That little girl was Qianya—an incompetent, muddle-headed ruler!" Crimson Goose’s shout sliced the air like ice.

"When she inherited the crown, I was unwilling, yet I swallowed it," she said, swallowing ash.

"For a thousand years, I watched her drag a strong empire into a valley."

Because of a whim, the Blood Clan retreated from the continent’s sight, vanishing like wolves into snow."

"Why should a capricious girl, willing to toss her people away, sit the throne like a borrowed halo?"

She sneered, night-cold. "Just because she was displeased, she treated the City of Woe, with millions, like a dump."

"Yuqiu at least could claim she was clearing remnant factions, like pruning dead branches. What right did Qianya have?"

"City of Woe was my old home. I watched it fall from brief glory to dust, like a star burning out."

"I spent years raising a new City of Woe, brick by brick. Then one sentence from Qianya ruined everything."

She lowered her head and laughed, sharp as a blade on bone.

"Bloodline—the Blood Clan prizes bloodline above all."

"She is royal, so she’s born noble. I am collateral, a half-blood, so I never rise?"

"Now I am different. I carry the Vampire King’s royal blood," she said, eyes bright as embers.

"Why can’t I become the ‘king’ of the Duskmoon Empire?"

"You can," Tangxue tilted her head, a snowflake spinning. "Does that stop me from wanting to kill you?"

"If you’ve got a king’s resolve, show a king’s strength."

"Otherwise, the country you rule will meet only extinction, like a candle in storm rain."

Tangxue leveled Frostwhisper, honed into a sword, its point aimed at Crimson Goose like a shard of moonlight.

Suddenly, she had no taste for dragging this out; the hunt felt colorless, like rain on gray stone.

Crimson Goose stared at the white-glinting edge, then her eyes hardened, like ice set.

She lifted her sword with one hand, a duelist’s stance cut clean against the wind.

"You’re right. If I can’t beat you, I have no right to that seat," she said, voice steady as slate.

"I’m not like Qianya. I won’t lean on any external power to prop my country."

"So I must be stronger than anyone," she said, resolve burning like a winter torch.

She launched her final challenge, a last arrow loosed into the sky.

Over Solitary Shadow City, lights flared like meteors, blades rang a humming that climbed the clouds.

Sword-light shredded the city’s black-red clouds, and a rare white broke through like dawn.

No one knew how long passed. The duel ended with the red-dressed woman crashing from the sky, like a falling leaf.

At the last, Tangxue split her heart with Frostwhisper, carving a wound the Blood Core could never mend.

Tangxue returned to the ground and looked over the wasteland, a loneliness settling like dust.

Solitary Shadow City was truly ruined.

But days ago, Crimson Goose had forced its residents to resettle in the City of Woe, like birds moving nests.

So the blast’s toll was light, a small shadow under a vast storm.

After Crimson Goose was gone, what should she do next? The question drifted like fog through her chest.

Tangxue felt a thread of confusion, thin and cold.

Her head swam; in battle she had forced power far beyond her norm, like a river breaching its banks.

She hadn’t gone berserk or lost reason, but now her mind ached and her body felt empty, like a gutted drum.

Then, from distant ruins, a pillar of pure red light erupted, spearing the sky.

A magic surge far beyond quasi-god tier swept across Solitary Shadow City like a wildfire.

Tangxue panicked; her heart jumped like a startled bird.

Was Crimson Goose not dead? The thought lasted less than a heartbeat before it shattered.

The aura was familiar—Qianya’s, warm and iron-scented.

Qianya had broken through.

Daylight was dyed red; the sky turned crimson above the Duskmoon Empire and across the continent, like silk soaked in wine.

A blood-red round moon hung high, as if celebrating a newborn god, a lantern over heaven.

Tangxue knew this scene well; when Jiuqi gained Authority, the plane had warped for a fleeting moment, like heat over stone.

Unlike Crimson Goose’s unrecognized true-god tier, Qianya’s breakthrough carried Authority bestowed by the plane; she was a bona fide True God.

For True Gods, Authority matters more than breath; their battles are Authorities colliding like storms.

For example, in Starfate City, the old woman Qing Feng Yuelian used one-third of her Authority.

She barely spent magic, yet suppressed every teacher at Heavenly Melody Academy, Fang Zhe included, like mountains pressing sea.

This plane limits how many Authority-bearing True Gods exist; once the stars are counted, no new light comes.

Unless you kill the weakest of them, and make room, like pruning to let a tree breathe.

"Qianya…" Tangxue looked toward the pillar, her gaze complicated, like clouds wrestling sun.