The moment Zhang's voice rang out, Yun and Linglong moved in perfect sync. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts. The air seemed to crackle with the energy of their intent as they struck in unison.
Linglong's blade flashed through the dim battlefield like a silver lightning bolt, aiming for the exposed gap in the demon's defenses. At the same time, Yun's whip snapped forward, the leather strands coiling around the demon's leg with deadly precision. Zhang, a heartbeat behind them, followed through, his sword cutting a deadly arc aimed at the demon's throat.
For the first time, their coordinated attacks found purchase.
The demon's body jerked violently as steel and leather bit deep into its flesh. Dark, viscous blood sprayed into the air, an eerie contrast against the backdrop of the shadowed battlefield. The sound of the impact was sickening, but the demon's agonized hiss only added to the tension. The smell of blood and the heavy, metallic scent lingered in the air like a warning.
For a brief, fleeting second, victory seemed within their grasp.
Then, a pulse of suffocating darkness erupted from the demon's core.
A shockwave of malevolent energy blasted outward, hurling them back like ragdolls. Zhang barely managed to plant his sword into the ground, using it to stop his uncontrolled momentum before he collided with the surrounding debris. Yun was less fortunate. She rolled violently across the dirt, coughing and gasping as the impact rattled her ribs, the air knocked out of her lungs. Linglong staggered, her knees buckling beneath her weight as fresh pain surged through her already wounded arm.
The demon, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the chaos.
It straightened, towering over them, and a slow, cruel grin spread across its face. Its clawed hand reached down, fingers tracing the wound on its torso where blood continued to ooze from the fresh cuts. For a moment, there was no trace of pain or weakness—just the unsettling confidence of a predator.
"You almost had me." Its voice was thick with amusement, the words dripping with mockery. But beneath that playful tone, there was something far more dangerous—a simmering malice that only grew with every passing second. "Not bad for children playing at war."
Before any of them could react, the demon moved.
It was a blur of black light—its clawed hand shooting toward Zhang's chest, moving with terrifying speed and precision.
Zhang barely had time to raise his sword in defense. His muscles screamed in protest as he forced himself to react, his grip tightening on the hilt. The demon's claw came down like a guillotine, and he could feel the air crackle with the force of its strike.
The demon laughed—an unsettling, almost mocking sound. "Keke, little boy, you're already dead."
The claw shot forward with lethal intent, but just as it seemed certain to tear through Zhang's defenses—
A burst of light erupted.
Blinding and fierce, it surged from Zhang's necklace, flooding the entire battlefield with a brilliant, white glow. The demon flinched, its eyes squinting shut against the sudden radiance, its grin disappearing as if erased by the intensity of the light. The very air seemed to vibrate with its power.
"Tsk—!" The demon staggered back, momentarily disoriented.
Zhang barely registered what had just happened. His vision was overwhelmed by the afterimage of the blinding light, his mind struggling to process what had occurred. What… was that? He could barely think, his senses still reeling from the unexpected surge of energy.
But there was no time to contemplate. The battle was far from over.
The demon hissed in frustration, shaking off its momentary blindness. Its gaze shifted toward Zhang's necklace, a flicker of something else crossing its face—something not quite fear, but wariness. Annoyance, perhaps? It was hard to tell.
"That thing… how troublesome." Its voice was low, almost begrudging, as if it had just discovered a new obstacle.
But Yun didn't give the demon a chance to recover.
"Now!" she shouted, her whip snapping forward again with deadly intent, aiming straight for the demon's arm. Her voice carried the weight of urgency, and there was no hesitation in her movements.
Linglong was already in motion, her blade slicing through the air in a silver arc, targeting the demon's side. Zhang gritted his teeth and forced himself to move, ignoring the strain on his body as he tightened his grip around his sword. His mind was a blur, but his body moved with purpose. They couldn't afford to waste this chance.
The moment of luck had passed.
Now, they had to finish this fight themselves, and no amount of external forces would save them.
…
Amidst the chaos of battle, when the sounds of clashing steel and guttural roars filled the air, a voice suddenly broke through—calm, almost too calm. It was unassuming, but the weight of it hung in the air, pressing down on everything around it.
"I knew this fight wouldn't end so easily," the man said, his tone disturbingly casual, as though he were commenting on a passing storm. "My little Sons and Daughters of Heaven… give me more entertainment. I'm looking forward to this game."
There was no urgency in his words, no rush to act, only a cold, calculating amusement. As the chaos raged on, his gaze never wavered from the chessboard before him. To the untrained eye, he was simply lost in a quiet game, his fingers gently shifting pieces on the board.
But if a high-ranking cultivator, someone who truly understood the weight of power, happened to glance at the board—if they dared to focus on the subtle shift of the pieces—they would feel it.
A bone-deep chill would crawl up their spine, and their blood would freeze in their veins.
Because what lay before him was no mere game.
He wasn't playing with pieces.
He was toying with the world itself.