Chapter Forty-Nine: Unrest

Below the vast plains, two bands of warriors clashed incessantly, their blades meeting at close quarters. In the span of moments, blood had soaked the ground, painting a grim tableau across the battlefield.

By now, the outcome was clear. One side, ragged and demoralized, lagged far behind their adversaries in spirit, equipment, and numbers. Their defeat seemed imminent.

Within the ranks, Nadil let out a furious roar, muscles tensing as he swung a massive greatsword that glimmered faintly with a crimson light. With a mighty sweep, he unleashed its force.

“Furious Sword Slash!” he bellowed, cleaving down several foes in an instant.

His own body was drenched in blood—not his own, but that of his enemies. It dripped from him, spattering the earth at his feet and staining all around him red. Raising his head, he fixed his gaze on the enemy and shouted, “Surrender, and you shall be spared!”

“Surrender, and you shall be spared!” The cry echoed across the field as his warriors joined in, voices thunderous, their iron resolve intimidating all who heard.

Confronted by such a display, some among the enemy clenched their teeth, resolved to resist further. Yet, far more quailed, seized by a wave of fear. As the first of them cast down his weapon, more and more followed, surrendering in droves until only a handful continued their futile resistance.

Nadil burst out laughing, his eyes flashing with a savage light as he charged at the last holdouts.

After a time, a messenger approached Adis to deliver a report. Adis nodded, leading several companions forward to survey the aftermath.

The sight was harrowing. The ground was littered with corpses and torn flesh, the air thick with the stench of blood—enough to chill the bravest heart. Yet Adis’s expression remained unchanged, his fine, handsome features unruffled, and he stood serenely amid the carnage. A profound, abyssal aura seemed to emanate from him, stilling even the blood-maddened warriors nearby.

“My lord, in this battle, we have slain two hundred seventy-three and captured nearly two hundred. Some escaped and could not be counted,” Nadil reported, kneeling before him, his body reeking of blood and death.

“And our own losses?” Adis asked, his gaze steady.

“About sixty wounded, with a dozen dead—the rest are injured,” Nadil replied, holding his posture.

Adis nodded and said, “Select several prisoners and interrogate them. Find out the location of their lair.”

Once Nadil departed to carry out his orders, Adis turned to the group behind him—several priests clad in simple ceremonial robes, who had stood quietly throughout.

He directed his gaze to the leading figure, a middle-aged man. “Priest Bill.”

At his summons, the priest looked at Adis. Though his expression was composed, he dared not meet Adis’s eyes.

To these priests, Adis radiated a vast divine power, as boundless as the sea itself. His very being exuded an unimaginable, majestic divinity—an awe-inspiring presence that compelled them to worship, their knees trembling as if to kneel involuntarily.

Sensing this, Bill steeled himself, averting his eyes lest he be overcome by the urge to fall prostrate. Silently, he prayed for composure, and as he did so, the crushing pressure upon his spirit gradually eased. Relieved, he lifted his hand, and a soft white light gathered there.

Behind him, several elderly priests began to chant in low voices, their words harmonizing with the sacred power in the air. Soon, a vast radiance shone forth—holy and pure—forming the faint imprint of a divine sigil.

This was the Purification Rite, classified by Chen Ming as a first-tier divine art. Each of these priests, therefore, was at least of the rank of Red Robe.

As the Purification Rite glowed brighter, Adis watched as the faint miasma of dark magic lingering over the area was cleansed. The souls nearby, shrouded in white light, regained their former clarity.

Such was the power of the Purification Rite: it banished demonic energies and purified souls. Bathed in this light, a soul would carry a trace of divine presence, able to resist corruption and even extend its existence for a time.

“Alas, they are not my followers. Without my protection, in the end, they will still dissolve into the world’s essence,” Adis mused, gazing at the souls shining with pure white light.

Yet to the others, nothing on the field seemed to change. They simply felt a gentle warmth seep into their bodies as the purifying light washed over them.

Satisfied, Adis nodded and instructed the priests to tend to the wounded elsewhere, while he, accompanied by several men, moved on.

After he left, Priest Bill finally exhaled, casting a fervent glance at the receding figure of Adis. “Truly the reincarnation of our deity. Even with his divine soul still dormant, his power veiled, such majesty radiates from him.”

“Indeed,” an elder behind him echoed passionately, his eyes burning as he watched Adis depart. “A true god, even reborn, is still a god—never one to be defiled by mortals.”

A golden aura of destiny crowned this elder, marking him as a Yellow Robe priest.

Meanwhile, Adis, guided by two surrendered captives, pressed forward, his gaze icy.

Before them, corpses lay strewn throughout a village. Within, fierce demonic beasts, eyes gleaming red, gorged themselves on the dead.

At the sight, all present turned grim, their battle-hardened rage not yet spent. They looked to Adis, their eyes smoldering with anger and hatred.

“Nadil,” Adis called calmly, his face betraying neither joy nor sorrow.

“Here!” Nadil responded, standing at attention.

“Take a hundred men and drive out these beasts,” Adis ordered.

Nadil obeyed, signaling several squads who, under their officers’ command, moved to surround the creatures.

The demon beasts, sensing the threat, raised their bloodshot eyes to glare at Adis and his men, jaws agape, revealing the shredded flesh of their victims.

Ordinary lordly troops would have panicked at this sight, perhaps even rioted. But Adis’s carefully trained private soldiers were different. If anything, their fury intensified—they thirsted for battle.

As the beasts howled and roared, Nadil led his hundred men to engage the dozen or so monsters. Blood—dark, red, and black—spattered in every direction.

A demon beast lunged from behind, but Adis did not move. With a single backward sweep of his sword, a razor-sharp arc split the air, slicing the creature clean in two.

Soon, the fighting was over. Adis stepped forward, frowning at the carnage around him.

Above, wisps of shadowy black malice drifted in the air—the deaths of so many demon beasts had unleashed a tide of demonic energy, tainting the land. Where the blood had soaked the earth, it was scorched black, unfit for cultivation for years to come.

Amid the wreckage, faint white mists began to coalesce, scattered and thin. Adis realized there were still survivors and ordered a thorough search.

Before long, a messenger approached. “My lord, we found survivors in the underground cellar—mostly women and children.”

Adis nodded. “Bring them out and settle them together, ready for relocation.”

At that moment, Nadil, bloodied from battle, returned, a hint of regret on his fierce face. “My lord, the demon beasts have become far too numerous—more in these few months than I’ve seen in my entire life.”

Adis fell silent.

As a deity, he had long noticed the recent anomalies. Over the past decades, the concentration of demonic energy in the region had grown at an alarming rate, surging to madness in recent years. A decade ago, demon beasts were a dire threat, yet the city-states remained relatively safe. Now, after years of unchecked outbreaks, even those within the city walls were falling to corruption.

By virtue of his partial status as a Child of the World, he could clearly see the once-dormant power of the world now boiling, awakening—barely restraining some monstrous force, teetering on the brink of eruption.

At the same time, the world’s source power was pouring into him more than ever.

“All these signs point to one thing—the world can no longer contain what’s coming,” Adis sighed.

Only in the gravest of crises would the will of the world act so desperately, burning its very essence to foster a true Child of the World.

“And now comes the contest,” he whispered.

Adis gazed at the distant sky, where a dozen points of starlight twinkled. From above, threads of primordial energy drifted down.