In the next breath, that single mark fractured into countless microscopic runes. They spread like a swarm of luminous insects, burrowing into the flame's surface, merging and binding.

Li Mei's eyes grew cold. Her voice remained silent, but her intent was merciless. She began erasing the flame's spiritual essence without hesitation. Cruel? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely. If she didn't strip the flame of its will, she would never be able to fully colonize it. And this flame—anything left behind by the Alchemical Saint—was not something one treated lightly.

If she didn't take total control… catastrophe was guaranteed.

The once-brilliant flame shrank rapidly, compressing into itself until it was no larger than a single marble, glowing faintly like a captured star. Li Mei's cherry-pink lips parted gently.

She swallowed it whole.

"Junior sister!" Lin Huang's shout cracked the tense silence. His face drained of color as he stared at her. He could sense how terrifying that flame was just from its aura. And she… she just ate it? What was she thinking?!

Rong Lua's reaction was much different—jaw slack, breath caught at the sight—but only Wang Chen remained completely calm. He knew Li Mei well enough by now. She never acted without reason.

"Finally time to return to the dojo…" Wang Chen thought idly, glancing toward the horizon. The image of the two Fang family girls flashed through his mind. Would they show up soon? He wondered vaguely.

Meanwhile, Li Mei floated above the lake like an ethereal spirit. Her reflection shimmered perfectly in the crystalline waters below. A faint glow bloomed from the crown of her head, turning the tips of her hair a delicate ocean-blue. Her eyes remained closed for an hour—an hour during which the entire lake felt as if it held its breath with her.

When she finally opened them, the world seemed to settle. The aura calmed. The violent energies subsided, replaced by quiet serenity.

Only the village remained unchanged. Its empty streets stretched out like the ribs of a forgotten beast, hollow and silent.

Zhao Yunfei stood near the entrance, staring into that silence with a heartbreak so raw it seemed to bleed into the air. She had searched all throughout the night, wandering every corner of the village until her voice cracked. Yet there was no echo of her brother. No footsteps. No heartbeat.

Not even the faintest whisper of any villager.

It wasn't just that her brother was missing… the entire village had been swallowed by demons.

"I hate you… demons…" Zhao Yunfei whispered, jaw clenched so tightly her pearly teeth trembled. Hatred—deep, burning, alive—surged inside her for the first time in her life. A river of venom roaring through a heart that had always been gentle.

Just then, Lin Huang's voice drifted softly from behind her, warm and earnest.

"Wow, junior… with this technique, you can reach the Foundation Building Realm before me. From now on, not only can you protect senior brother, you can also protect the dojo."

Lin Huang scratched the back of his head and sighed with a straight-faced seriousness that almost looked comical. He had long gotten over the fact that Li Mei's cultivation always jumped ahead of his. In fact, he felt oddly proud of it now.

Zhao Yunfei, listening quietly, felt her expression shift.

Foundation Building…

A level where she could protect someone.

A realm where she could protect her brother.

For the first time, desire bloomed inside her—not for safety, not for escape, but for strength.

She wanted that realm. She wanted it desperately.

The Demon Lord Arkos loomed above Wind and Thunder City like a nightmare given flesh. His colossal form—more than twenty meters tall—floated over the collapsing rooftops, casting a shadow so vast it drowned the city in darkness. Below him, what had once been a thriving city was reduced to a slaughterhouse. Cultivators were butchered like livestock; blood poured through the streets in thick, steaming rivers. The stench of gore was suffocating, a rancid haze that could be smelled from kilometers away. Clouds of blood-mist churned through the air like twisted storm clouds.

Amid the carnage, the Wind and Thunder Lord fought until the very end. His arms were gone, torn from his body in the desperate defense of his people, but still he stood. His breath trembled, his body swayed, but his gaze—lowered though it was—burned with hatred so fierce it seemed capable of scorching the heavens themselves.

"Demons… you will die a brutal death!"

His voice roared out, tattered but unwavering.

Arkos barely acknowledged him. The Demon Lord's three crimson eyes shifted down with the same indifference one might give to an insect on the verge of death. To him, the man's defiance was meaningless—just the final, useless cry of another dying ant.

What did catch Arkos's attention was something else entirely.

A ripple.

A disturbance.

A faint decay in the fortune of his race.

Subtle—so subtle that even a Demon Lord should not have noticed it. But it was there. A thread fraying in the tapestry of destiny his clan had woven for countless eras.

Arkos's lips curled in amusement. A low, rumbling hum vibrated through the sky.

"Interesting… this little continent actually holds something capable of threatening the fortune of my race."

His voice rolled out like a decree carved into stone, carrying a strange, ancient hunger.

The Wind and Thunder Lord trembled—not from fear, not anymore, but from knowing… whatever Arkos had sensed was far worse than anything they had fought today.

And above, the Demon Lord's shadow stretched wider, swallowing what remained of the light.

Wind and Thunder's heart slowly fell toward despair, the last embers of life fading away, his eyes growing dull, just for some at this time the figure of Wang Chen flashed in his mind.

He didn't why but he had the feeling the only one who could save this continent from destruction was that senior.

Thinking up to this point the embers of life that were about to completely fade away once again ignited.

Even Demon Lord Arkos felt this change, the smile on the demon lord's face widened, to the point it could no longer be called a smile.

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