“Vice President, what should we do?” asked a young hunter, eager and ready, a trace of confidence and excitement gleaming in his eyes.
The Azure Feather Society was primarily composed of youths and teenagers—the empire’s next generation of elite talents. Though young and somewhat arrogant, the empire valued their potential and granted them notable authority and support.
“That old man Shen Zhan dares pull such a stunt? Clearly he doesn’t want this post anymore. But at his age, suspension is basically retirement—serves him right,” Lu Tianlei sneered. “Nanzhou was held up by him before. Now that we’re here, it’s our turn.”
“What the Hero Association won’t handle, I will. What they won’t do, I’ll do. Defy us? Execute on sight—Federation-sanctioned!” Lu Tianlei’s voice rang sharp and firm. “Go prepare. I want to see what kind of person could frighten that old man Shen Zhan into such a state.”
“Yes, sir!” the youths and teens replied in unison, voices crisp and loud.
“Nanzhou’s weather is due for a change. From today on, we become the new Hero Association,” Lu Tianlei declared with a smile.
The Azure Feather Society existed only to check the Hero Association—granted power, yes, but nothing more.
To be reduced to a subordinate branch of another organization? Lu Tianlei would never accept that.
His goal: transform the Azure Feather Society into the new Hero Association.
Even if it cost something—eliminating targets the Hero Association feared to touch, to earn greater prestige—it would be worth it.
…
…
Inside a tidy office, Shen Zhan placed his resignation letter on the desk.
The secretary across from him glanced at it and stamped it without expression.
He was retired now—though not by choice.
“Uncle,” a voice chimed beside him.
A golden-haired girl with a single ponytail approached. Sunlight glinted off her mithril armor; a longsword hung at her waist, her stance radiating poised grace.
Situ Qingxue—a rising star celebrated across the Eastern Empire, having broken through to the Ninth Tier at a remarkably young age.
“Why resign, Uncle?” she asked, tone lightly reproachful. “Your war record is illustrious. This minor issue shouldn’t have led to impeachment.”
“I’m old. I’ve done my duty. Passing the torch to the young is only right,” Shen Zhan smiled, unruffled.
“Uncle… what exactly did you see?” Situ Qingxue’s delicate brows furrowed.
“He is a supreme being. None may offend Him—not even a step. All must bow,” Shen Zhan murmured, hands behind his back, gaze lifted to the sky, sighing softly.
“No such being exists in this world,” Situ Qingxue stated.
“I once thought so too. But what He possesses—power, status—transcends imagination.”
Shen Zhan sighed again and walked out. Situ Qingxue’s fingers tightened briefly around her sword hilt before she followed.
Leaving the Eastern Empire government building, Shen Zhan turned onto a quiet, empty street.
When alone, he slowly drew a small bottle from against his skin—scalding brown liquid within, shimmering with faint golden light.
*Holy water…* Situ Qingxue’s pupils contracted slightly.
“His omniscience rivals divinity… No—He *is* divinity,” Shen Zhan murmured. “All who offend Him die. All who disrespect Him have their souls torn asunder.”
“Even if He is a deity, I will not fear Him,” Situ Qingxue said firmly, eyes locked on the bottle. “A single vial of holy water proves nothing.”
“If not a god, then a reclusive master weary of worldly noise—living freely in some remote town,” Shen Zhan replied calmly, tucking the bottle away.
Situ Qingxue fell silent, though unconvinced.
She had slain countless foes and demons. From her first exhausted victory over a First Tier demon, she climbed step by step. Once-unbeatable enemies now lay beneath her blade. Self-proclaimed gods now rested six feet under.
In this world, no opponent was unbeatable. No boss unconquerable. However mighty, all would one day have three-foot weeds on their graves.
“You’re planning to assault the demon territory next?” Shen Zhan asked.
“Yes,” Situ Qingxue replied. “The tyrant who ravaged the land for a millennium will soon meet his end.”
Defeating the Demon Emperor would grant her his millennium-cultivated core—propelling her to the Tenth Tier, the world’s pinnacle warrior.
“Uncle… would you join me against the Demon Emperor?”
Shen Zhan had once aided her before she rose to prominence. She’d hoped the Eighth Realm veteran would assist—but he’d resigned first.
“This is your generation’s era. An old bone like me won’t interfere,” Shen Zhan smiled, expression settling into quiet calm. “Before you leave… have you heard of the ‘Deity-Rearing Project’?”
“Deity-Rearing?” Situ Qingxue’s brow furrowed.
“Our Nanzhou Heroic Guild uncovered it. A mysterious group. Their project seems to be… hatching something formidable.”
“In chaotic Nanzhou? Entirely possible,” Situ Qingxue nodded cautiously. “I’ll keep watch there.”
Meanwhile, at the demon race’s sacred White Peach Mountain, a ruthless purge unfolded.
“The Eye of Divinity?” Su Zhaoyu’s voice was ice-cold as she stared down at a servant kneeling far below the throne steps.
Inside the solemn hall, the crimson carpet gleamed dark with fresh blood. Headless corpses littered the base of the dais.
Incense coils smoldered, drifting an eerie, unnatural fragrance through the air.
During morning court, Su Zhaoyu had summoned every official, servant, and maid—then lit the newly acquired Truth-Revealing Incense.
Now only corpses remained—from highest minister to lowliest maid.
Most chilling: the shadowy Pantheon Cult behind it all, pursuing a deity-creation scheme… and already possessing a fragment of a Primordial God.
The cult was deeply veiled. Members brainwashed, memories erased. All Su Zhaoyu extracted was that single, terrifying term.
“Pursue this relentlessly,” Su Zhaoyu commanded sharply. “Find the one who holds the Eye of Divinity.”
