Demigods Assemble

Although he had joked about finding silver linings in misery, the frustration weighing on Zhang Yuanqing was genuine. Ling Tuo's relentless machinations never stopped; even while trapped in an instance, he still dictated the course of the real world. The evil faction played a subtle and sprawling game. The Covenant of Freedom had stayed in the shadows for a century, weaving their web far and wide, and detonating just a single pawn was enough to throw the entire orthodox faction into turmoil. The advantage Zhang Yuanqing had painstakingly built in the New York County faction clash amounted to nothing more than child's play before demigod-level powerhouses. Twenty days remained until the killing trial. Yet even if he ascended to become a Dominator, in the eyes of a demigod, he would still be an insignificant ant. This time, the orthodox faction faced an unprecedented crisis. If they failed to weather it safely and order collapsed, there would be no future left to speak of—he would not even have time to grow. Fu Qingyang's calm voice came through the speaker: "Boreas is a veteran demigod. Both her knowledge of the Spirit Realm and her combat experience are on par with her tier. In her eyes, choosing to fuse with the Thunder God must have seemed an absolute certainty, beyond any scheme of the evil faction. Yet she still miscalculated." Zhang Yuanqing was silent for a few seconds. "Boss, you mean..." Fu Qingyang gave an affirmative grunt. "It means someone in the evil faction possesses knowledge and experience that far exceeds Boreas—namely, the gods you mentioned to me before. The Covenant of Freedom endured for a century, plotting countless things in secret. When it all detonates in a single night, it is bound to bring catastrophic destruction. That is only natural. There is no need to panic. Survive it, and all of the opponent's pawns will be rendered moot." Only then did Zhang Yuanqing realize his boss was consoling him. The evil faction had schemed for a century with gods aiding them. Once they made their move, it was bound to be earth-shattering; it would have made no sense if it ended in a whimper. This was the foundation and momentum they had accumulated since the last faction clash. The orthodox faction could only grit their teeth and endure it. If they held on, they would burn through the enemy's trump cards, and who would ultimately triumph remained to be seen. If they could not hold on, they could only accept their fate. "The orthodox faction has held sway over the globe for a century. With so many demigods, we are hardly short on hidden cards. Wait with peace of mind," Fu Qingyang said, like a commander presiding over a battlefield, unflinching even if a mountain crumbled before him. "If the sky falls, the demigods will hold it up. If all the demigods die, the Dominators will take their place. If one day the Dominators return to the Spirit Realm and your turn comes, die when you must. In the worst-case scenario, you merely return to the Spirit Realm—nothing more. "Treat life and death lightly, and nothing and no one will ever shake your state of mind." Zhang Yuanqing smiled wryly. "I just hate the thought of going down like that." Death was not frightening; what was frightening was failing to make the enemy pay the price. Fu Qingyang said in a low voice, "Then rest well and prepare for the killing trial. Once you advance to Dominator, you will at least be qualified to enter the board as a pawn." Zhang Yuanqing hung up the phone. He had originally intended to return to the instance to continue cultivating, but after an event of this magnitude, all mood for training was gone. Without resolving the disaster unleashed by the two Heaven's Punishment chiefs, he could not return to the instance with a calm heart. He returned to their living quarters and gathered the members of Return of the Dead. "Something terrible has happened!" Zhang Yuanqing took a deep breath, looking around at his teammates. "You've probably all received the Spirit Realm notification by now, but the details—" "We already know everything down to the finest detail," Sun Miaomiao said. Zhao Chenghuang added, "For some reason, the two chiefs of Heaven's Punishment went mad, slaughtering people at headquarters until their Morality Points plummeted to zero. Now Washington is also suffering a massive catastrophe." Zhang Yuanqing stared at them in a daze. "How do you know that?" Guan Ya replied, "Yuan Ting dug it up." *I almost forgot that guy's information gathering ability is practically a rule of the world...* Zhang Yuanqing muttered inwardly before saying: "Washington is far from New York County, so the aftermath is unlikely to spill over here. But after this blow, even if Heaven's Punishment doesn't disband, it will be weakened like never before. What happens going forward is hard to say, but it definitely won't be good. I suggest you all return home." Guan Ya and the others nodded with solemn expressions. Zhang Yuanqing habitually started to ask their opinions on the current situation, but then felt it was unnecessary. Against a demigod-level catastrophe, Saints could talk until their throats were dry to no effect. It was like office workers debating international geopolitics all day; global affairs would never bend to their will. *** Western outskirts of Washington. Two figures materialized out of thin air at the Heaven's Punishment headquarters: the white-haired Grand Marshal and the President wearing his silver mask. The Heaven's Punishment headquarters, sprawling across sixty-eight thousand square meters, had been reduced to a field of ruins. Looking down from above, they saw crumbling walls, uprooted greenbelts, ruptured pipes spouting water, and billowing clouds of thick smoke. Not a single living soul remained here. Some were dead; the rest had fled. Everywhere lay the mutilated corpses of victims dismembered by wind blades, plastered against the walls like swatted mosquitoes, splattering shocking sprays of blood. Among these casualties were Extraordinaries, Saints, and even Dominator-level figures, yet before a demigod-level disaster, there was no difference among them. Fu Qingxuan's expression was momentarily dazed. The Heaven's Punishment headquarters was the holy land in the hearts of all orthodox walkers, gathering the orthodox elite of the entire world. It boasted two formidable level 11 demigods, the backing of massive financial consortiums, and the world's richest vault of items. Orthodox walkers across the globe considered it an honor to join Heaven's Punishment. Yet such a mighty organization, standing tall for a century, had met with utter devastation today. In her youth, Fu Qingxuan had once dreamed of joining Heaven's Punishment to become a respected prosecutor. Although she had outgrown the influence of her elders and forged her own perspectives as the years passed, the childhood imprint remained deep within her heart. Seeing the scarred ruins of the Heaven's Punishment headquarters filled her with mixed emotions. "The golden era of Heaven's Punishment is over. A truly epochal nerf," Mr. President sighed. He pressed his hand against Fu Qingxuan's shoulder and teleported them away. A moment later, the two arrived in the urban district of Washington, only to be greeted by another sprawling wasteland of debris. Not long ago, this urban area had been battered by terrifying hurricanes and ball lightning. Buildings had collapsed, dense smoke rose everywhere, vehicles choked the roads, and people scrambled desperately to flee. Ambulances and fire engines wailed with piercing sirens, only to remain stuck in gridlock on the fractured and collapsed streets, leaving the entire traffic network paralyzed. The water supply had broken down, the electrical grid was dead, and every second claimed more lives. The hurricane's path had torn straight through this district and was heading toward the southern suburbs. Mr. President opened his inventory, pulled up the wanted quest, and checked the pulsing red beacon before teleporting Fu Qingxuan once more. This time, they arrived directly at their destination, sighting Boreas floating five hundred meters in the air. The Chief Executive of Heaven's Punishment was completely naked, her exquisite, shapely body exposed without a thread of cloth. One of her eyes crackled with condensed lightning, shining a vibrant, electric blue, while the other was as transparent as glazed glass. She looked down at the vast land below, her gaze and expression completely blank as she muttered incessantly under her breath, "Who am I... Who am I..." Mr. President and the Grand Marshal exchanged a glance. The former murmured, "She truly has gone mad." Fu Qingxuan nodded and added, "She is also stronger. The aura rolling off her makes me shudder." "Theoretically, she has reached tier 12," Mr. President said heavily. "The last person who made me feel this way was Asura." As they spoke, Boreas snapped her head around to glare at them, screeching sharply, "Who am I? And who are you!" Her vacant eyes flared with madness and savagery. Mr. President pinched his fingers like a sword, writing rapidly in midair to form a contract inscribed with profound, arcane runes, chuckling softly: "Old friend, how could you even forget who you are? Let me tell you. But we must make a deal: I answer your question, and you pay me my compensation." Boreas glared fixedly at them, the savagery in her eyes dimming slightly as she demanded frantically, "Who am I? Tell me quickly!" The contract hovering before the President blazed with light and vanished into thin air, as though an invisible, binding rule had been forged in the dark. Mr. President called out aloud: "The deal is struck! Listen well: your name is Boreas! Boreas, I shall take your power of the Thunder God as my payment." With that, he reached out and grasped at the air. Countless branching arcs of lightning erupted from Boreas's body, converging toward the President's palm until they coalesced into a dazzling, blinding blue orb of lightning. Transaction was the most powerful and common ability of the Merchant class. And an agreement reached between both parties, when enacted by a demigod-level President, took on the binding force of absolute law. "Boreas... Right, I am Boreas. I am Boreas!" Boreas's eyes darted frantically, her face breaking into a smile that appeared ecstatic on the surface, yet reeked of utter derangement. A flash of sword light split the sky and earth as Fu Qingxuan seized the opening to launch a sneak attack. In an instant, she closed the distance to the King of the Sky, drawing a gleaming iron sword from her inventory. Piercing sword qi erupted from the blade, twisting the void as it lunged straight toward Boreas's forehead. Her sword could effortlessly shatter demigod-level rule-based items. Boreas remained lost in her frenzied joy, muttering over and over, "I am Boreas... I am Boreas..." Just as the sword light was about to strike home, she suddenly raised her hand and caught the blade. Spiraling currents of cyan wind twirled around her fingers. She glanced at Fu Qingxuan, then down at the sword in her grip. Realizing she was under attack, madness and murderous intent burst from her eyes as she shrieked venomously: "Die!" *Boom!* A deafening explosion ruptured the air. Every bone in Fu Qingxuan's body fractured as she was blasted backward like an artillery shell, slamming violently into the ground and bouncing like a rubber ball, gouging crater after crater across the earth. Fu Qingxuan scrambled to her feet in a battered state. Her sleek white hair had grown frizzy and unkempt, her clothes were torn and covered in dirt, and she spat out a mouthful of bloody foam. Her bones clicked and popped, healing in the blink of an eye. Mr. President materialized at her side, the lightning orb still gripped in his palm, his tone grim. "It seems we can't take her?" Fu Qingxuan nodded. "Even without the power of lightning, her tier remains at level 12. The fusion was actually a success. The issue is that she failed to obliterate the Thunder God's consciousness, leading to this shattered sanity." Mr. President pondered for a moment before remarking: "The fusion succeeded... The evil faction didn't deceive her. Then again, how could cheap tricks like deception ever fool someone like her? What caused the failure then? Could it be that she lacked one crucial step to become the dominant soul?" Right then, a piercing howl ripped through the air as a deluge of wind blades rained down like a torrential storm. Mr. President gripped the white-haired Grand Marshal's shoulder and teleported them away. The moment they reappeared a short distance away, another storm of wind blades descended upon them, pouring down relentlessly as if it cost nothing. The President teleported again, but the moment they stepped out of the void, wind blades descended once more. They remained under the omnipresent gaze of the King of the Sky. After Fu Qingxuan's failed sneak attack, neither dared to attempt another ambush, wary of handing over two free demigod lives. Just then, thick, dark storm clouds rolled in from the east, and moisture rapidly saturated the air. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed within the clouds as fierce gales surged. A clear, resonant dragon roar reverberated across the horizon, deafening the ears and seemingly purifying the soul. Boreas's body trembled. The chaos and frenzy in her eyes receded swiftly; cleansed by the dragon roar, she reclaimed her sense of self, briefly recovering her sanity. A Rain Master's dragon roar was unmatched at dispelling illusions and clearing delusion. At that moment, an elderly man with white hair and a towering stature abruptly manifested on the battlefield. He appeared as if out of nowhere, even more bizarre and sudden than teleportation. The old man held a wine jug, tilted his head back to take a long swig, and sprayed out a mouthful of liquor. An intoxicating aroma of wine diffused into the air like billowing mist, leaving Fu Qingxuan and the President swaying on their feet, their cheeks flushing red as though they had just chugged ten jin of potent erguotou. A glazed haze settled over Boreas's eyes. The sanity she had fought so hard to reclaim rapidly evaporated, and madness and chaos surged back to consume her mind. The dense storm cloud rolled forward, generating a powerful vacuum that swiftly swallowed the wine fumes from the air. "Banish!" Mr. President snapped his fingers, politely expelling the boss of the Dionysus Club. Yet in the very next second, Old Mai reappeared with his wine jug, sneering, "Distance has no meaning to me." Before his voice faded, the ground beside his feet split open, and two giant stone hands erupted upward, clamping tightly around his body. Crimson flames blazed into existence as a burly, muscular man with hair like fire materialized from the blaze. Flames surged from his palms, condensing into a massive blade that cleanly severed Old Mai's head in a single sweeping slash. The head rolled through the air, only to be caught by a hand and gently pressed back onto the severed neck. Meanwhile, the Old Mai gripped by the stone hands had already vanished without a trace. In an era where the Knight class possessed no demigods, an Alcoholic could freely twist the rules, turning death into life. From the west drifted a swath of green light, curling and weaving like light smoke—seemingly sluggish, yet blisteringly fast. Above the green radiance, a blazing trail of fire streaked across the firmament, instantly vaporizing all moisture in the air and radiating waves of scorching heat. *Clop, clop, clop...* The thunderous sound of hooves echoed from the south as eight azure steeds bore a war chariot rushing onto the scene. The earth cracked apart, and an elder clad in yellow robes, his hair and beard snow-white, stood atop a rising stone pillar as it slowly ascended into the sky. The demigods of the orthodox faction had assembled. *Roar!* A deafening roar commanded the demigods' attention. A five-clawed divine dragon adorned with black scales and green whiskers snaked its way into view, its entire form exuding an eerie, wicked aura, its eyes glowing like twin crimson rubies. The Gu Dragon! A demigod of the Spirit Society had arrived. Perched atop the Gu Dragon's head were two figures. One was draped in a hooded cloak, their face shifting endlessly between man and woman, young and old—the Southern Sect's Illusion God. The other wore a sharp, tailored suit, handsome and refined, sporting a silver earring with a roguish swagger. Fear Heavenly King.