The Return
The evil god descended toward Mi-An, his presence like a shadow devouring the light. A faint sob escaped her lips.
"You're still alive?" he sneered.
Mi-An tried to stand, but her legs faltered, and she collapsed back onto the cold, bloodied ground. Around them, disciples and Saints fought desperately, their energy dimming under the overwhelming force of despair.
The evil god smiled cruelly, raising his hand, ready to strike her down.
Then—the sky split open.
A pressure unlike any mortal or divine being had felt descended upon the battlefield. Wind tore across the landscape, uprooting trees, scattering debris, and lifting warriors off their feet.
Everyone—except the evil god and Mi-An—was hurled away by the cosmic force.
The battlefield fell eerily silent, a vacuum of sound in the eye of the storm.
From above, a figure descended. Slowly, deliberately.
Xiao Yan.
The world seemed to hold its breath as he walked toward Mi-An, each step reverberating with authority and fury.
The Battlefield of Despair
Xiao Yan moved across the carnage like a storm incarnate. Blood, shattered bodies, and the moans of the wounded marked the devastation. The Obsidian River ran black, its banks littered with the fallen—disciples, demons, Saints alike.
Mi-An lay upon the ground, trembling and pale. Her chest rose and fell in fragile rhythm, her hands weak, soaked with blood. Xiao Yan's gaze immediately locked on her. His heart clenched, fury and sorrow colliding like twin storms inside him. He knelt beside her, his hand covering hers.
"You killed your father… do you think you're worth saving her?" The evil god's voice slithered into his ears, sharp and mocking.
Xiao Yan's rage erupted. Green light burned in his eyes, his aura expanding violently. Mi-An, gathering every ounce of strength, struggled to her feet, supporting herself beside him. Determination shone in her gaze.
"The father that protected you a thousand years ago, pushing you off the cliff to save you… what did you do to him? You killed him!" the evil god roared, his voice thunderous, shaking the battlefield.
Xiao Yan's robes shifted, glowing a radiant blue that mirrored the brilliance of his father's own. Lightning surged from his hand, pure and unrelenting, driving the evil god back. His fury was unmatched, yet beneath it lay a torrent of grief, raw and cutting.
"You want to kill me the same way you did to your father?" the evil god laughed, recovering his stance. "Hahaha! Will the world truly rely on someone who killed his own father to survive?"
Xiao Yan shed a tear. Around him, the screams of the fallen tore through his soul. Even the Celestial Realm itself recoiled, mourning the Ansha and refusing to answer the call of the one who had slain him.
The evil god laughed cruelly at the sight, relishing Xiao Yan's isolation.
But Xiao Yan's hand tightened around Mi-An's, his resolve burning brighter than the world's despair. The storm was not over—it had only just begun.