Raikai frowned as he assessed the six lieutenants before him. "Shinryu, I don't know how fast I can take these guys out to help you with the general. His simple demeanor hides a body almost as physically gifted as mine, and his cultivation's well above me. That field of yours might not be enough."
Shinryu didn't glance away from Wu Feng. "Judging by his confidence, you're not wrong. But I've never liked battles where I know the outcome." His voice dropped. "This one—I'll handle alone."
The lieutenants bristled at Raikai's casual tone, fury rising behind clenched jaws. Yet with no command from Wu Feng, they held their positions, taut as bowstrings.
Then Wu Feng's voice echoed across the field—deep, composed, and heavy with authority.
"The two rising stars who shook the battlefield. Defeating a Qi Fusion Refinement expert at such a young age, and only mid-stage in Flesh and Bone Fortification." A faint smile played on his lips. "Confidence is expected. But I am no overconfident old man."
Without warning, the pressure around Wu Feng surged. Darkness pooled like ink across his limbs as he summoned his Death Arms. A full suit of armor materialized over his frame, sleek and imposing. The air itself trembled as the color of the armor deepened, faint, arcane patterns spreading across its surface—a sign of the weapon fusing deeper into his very bones.
Seeing their general go all-in from the start, the lieutenants tensed instinctively.
Raikai met Shinryu's gaze one last time. "Don't be careless. I won't take long."
He stepped forward, standing directly before the six lieutenants. "Your opponent is me. Since your general sent the rest of your troops ahead, I don't plan on dragging this out."
His Death Arms surged to life, twin chain scythes flaring with electric qi. They pulsed like living serpents, glowing coils humming with restrained violence. Lightning crackled around him, a storm begging to be unleashed.
"Let's begin."
At the same moment, Shinryu launched himself toward Wu Feng. His gravitational field condensed completely around him, distorting the space within four feet of his body. Anyone who entered that zone felt a crushing weight—like the world itself pressing down.
His clawed gauntlets glowed pale blue. Wu Feng met his charge head-on.
The two collided.
A thunderous shockwave rippled across the field. Wu Feng winced slightly as the gravity dug in—but his fortified body withstood it, and with a brutal punch, he knocked Shinryu back several feet. The earth buckled beneath him.
Shinryu flipped and landed on one knee. Even with this field… he pushed through it. His body's that far ahead?
Wu Feng's armor pulsed, the subtle dark patterns glowing briefly as his Death Arms synced more deeply with his physique. Each punch carried not just strength, but an unnerving, chaotic momentum—an almost reckless might.
Shinryu steadied his breath. His own Death Arms urged him to respond in kind—to throw caution away and match power with power.
He resisted.
Meanwhile, Raikai faced the six lieutenants, his grin sharp.
"Six against one?" Lightning shimmered along his skin. "Hardly fair... for you."
The lieutenants surged forward—grim, hardened men and women of war. Each bore Death Arms of their own: reinforced knuckles, dark-glinting blades, sharpened boots. Their movements were enhanced by their cultivation, but their bodies carried the stiffness common to those who had walked the same path too long.
The first—a burly man with a two-handed axe—charged with a roar. His weapon radiated a faint red aura, the imprint of his Death Arms.
Raikai didn't flinch.
He caught the blow with a hardened forearm, the clang ringing out like a bell across the battlefield. The shock ran up the lieutenant's arms—but worse was the electrical current that surged through the axe, bypassing his defenses. His eyes widened.
Before he could react, Raikai's scythe lashed forward, wrapping around the man's legs. With a grunt, he yanked, sending the axe-wielder crashing to the ground.
The chains pulsed, and Raikai felt it—the sensation of metal becoming part of him. His Death Arms had begun to root deeper.
Two more came—one with a flexible staff, the other twin daggers gleaming in the light.
The staff lashed out. Raikai ducked and rolled, his movement a blur of fluid, coiled energy. The dagger-wielder tried to catch him mid-roll, but Raikai's scythes struck first, arcs of lightning sparking on impact and forcing him back with a cry.
He was relentless. The scythes twisted and snapped, moving as if guided by instinct—like limbs of a storm-born predator. They ensnared, struck, deflected, and punished with equal grace.
Raikai's qi surged, fueling his momentum. He was faster now—stronger. Scratches sealed mid-motion, and energy coursed through his limbs.
The thrill was intoxicating.
He gritted his teeth. Not too far. Don't give in.
His strikes became more unpredictable. Every attack denied rhythm, every dodge exploited the stiff, practiced habits of his opponents. They couldn't keep up. Coordination fell apart. Raikai was a hurricane of electric qi and whirling steel.
But even he felt the creeping weight of prolonged battle.
He raised one scythe high, channeling qi into it until it whined with strain. Then he stabbed it skyward.
A bolt of lightning tore the sky open.
The heavens answered.
Dark clouds gathered unnaturally fast, spiraling above like a divine eye opening. Thunder growled low and deep. Static charged the air, making hair rise and breath catch.
Raikai inhaled sharply. "Time to end this."
Lightning danced across his skin, linking his scythes to the churning sky.
Above, the storm began to descend.