On the Barren Highlands

As the swirling mist dispersed, the elderly snake person who had vanished moments ago reappeared on the mountain ridge.

“Master Sukob!”

“Master Sukob!”

“Master Sukob has returned.”

The many witch spirits looked eagerly at the old snake person. They were curious not only about his return but also about what he had witnessed in the kingdom of the divine being.

The old snake person remained silent, his gaze fixed on the object in his hand.

Sukob’s hand now held a mysterious scroll. It was not the kind for one-time spellcasting, but the kind meant for recording.

Since the invention of papermaking, snake people preferred books for recording text. Witch spirits, however, continued to favor scrolls as their medium for recording information.

They had inherited this custom from the ancient trilobite men. During the age of trilobites, paper had not yet been invented, and in Asai’s era, a time of miracles, cloth was the common medium for writing.

Cloth was ideal for rolling into scrolls, while paper was more practical for creating books.

Sukob put away the scroll that had drawn everyone’s attention and raised his head.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“We must continue our journey.”

Although the old snake person had received the deity’s blessing, he did not immediately turn back or become completely absorbed in it.

He adhered to his original plan, continuing toward the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents.

That night, after they had left the wasteland, Sukob sat by the campfire. He opened the 【Art of Witch Spirit God’s Grace】 and began to study it under the flickering light of the flames.

He immediately discovered a problem. This advanced apostle’s secret text did not connect properly from beginning to end, and the opening suggested there should be another part following it.

“Only half?”

“Why would I receive only half?”

Sukob did not believe the deity had given him the wrong text. He could only guess at the deeper meaning.

“Am I not yet qualified to receive the second half?”

“Or perhaps…”

“Could this be a test from the deity?”

Sukob was a devout believer. More than receiving a blessing, he hoped to accomplish something for the divine being.

He felt as he had in his youth, when he discovered the Shana family for the deity and took part in a divine war that history never recorded.

That was his eternal and unforgettable glory.

He had believed his life was already filled with glory. After growing old, entering the kingdom of God to embrace his final destination had seemed like the ending he deserved.

Yet, at this moment, he had unexpectedly received another mission from the deity.

The divine being desired for him to become an apostle.

To stay in the mortal world for a longer time.

To fulfill a mission of even greater significance.

The dancing flames turned his pupils red.

Sukob recited the divine oracle that God Asai had spoken in the Kingdom of Knowledge.

“An apostle is just the beginning.”

“The seeker of truth has no end.”

“As long as you are capable, I can take both of you to reach the endpoint of truth.”

Sukob also remembered his meeting with the Wood Nymph Saint Raphael, an emissary from the Creator God’s kingdom, and the words they had exchanged.

Although the messenger of the gods had remained silent at the time, Sukob understood that she carried the will of the Creator.

Sukob muttered to himself, “Apostle… just the beginning.”

He lifted his head to gaze at the stars above.

Sukob could already feel that a supreme will was driving the world’s rotation.

Whether mortals, nobles, ability users, or even the lofty gods, all were beginning to move in one direction under His will.

He did not need to act or speak. Merely thinking was enough to set the world in motion, guiding it toward the direction He desired.

Sukob stood up involuntarily, his head tilted back as he gazed at the vast, boundless starry sky.

He suddenly felt the sky spinning around him, as if he were about to be swallowed and dissolved into that endless depth.

Sukob whispered, “Creator God?”

On the other side of Ruhe Beast Island

At the boundary where the Herdsman’s Plain met Thunder Marsh, the sky was alive with wing demons circling above. Each carried a snake person on its back, their movements synchronized as if guided by an unseen force.

These wing demon riders fought in pairs, creating a magnificent spectacle.

On the ground below, groups of ability users also battled, casting various divine techniques and commanding fire demons and stone demons in different tactical maneuvers.

Thousands of land dragon riders charged rapidly across the earth, followed by fierce snake person legions.

This was not the first war between the two sides.

Recently, they had launched attack after attack on this land. The forces from the Herdsman’s Plain continuously pushed deeper, while the legions from Thunder Marsh kept retreating.

At last, the decisive battle had arrived.

This time, the Thunder Marsh forces responded to the charge of the land dragon legions with a unique divine technique.

A group of ability users with lightning tattoos raised their hands and activated the alchemical artifacts they held. In an instant, the ground before them transformed into a vast swamp. The land dragon riders, charging at full speed, had no time to react before the marsh swallowed them.

The bubbling mud of the swamp quickly devoured the riders and their land dragons, leaving behind terrifying howls of despair.

“Those are alchemical artifacts from the White Tower Alchemy Alliance!” someone shouted in panic.

“They have help from the White Tower Alchemy Alliance!”

Cries for help erupted from the chaos.

“Save me!”

“Help me!”

In the sky, the fierce wing demon riders of the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents pursued their victory.

After chasing the enemy into a strange cloud layer, they never emerged again.

The clouds in the sky were indistinguishable. Some were real, while others were ominous shrouds of death.

They charged into the cloud layer and vanished along with their mounts, dissolving into vapor without a sound.

The army that had been invincible on the Herdsman’s Plain finally understood that in this strange and treacherous territory, there was a force they could not resist.

The soldiers of the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents who charged forward next were met with a rain of arrows that blotted out the sky.

Forged by alchemists from the Land of Sunrise, these were expensive alchemical crossbows. Firing them all at once created a terrifying sight.

Defeat often starts from a single point. From there, it spreads across the entire front as prolonged attacks fail and heavy losses mount.

With the wing demon legion disappearing so eerily and the land dragon army defeated, fear spread among the snake people of the attacking force, and they began to retreat.

Once the retreat began, it quickly turned into a chaotic and unprecedented rout.

As dusk settled over the battlefield, a snake person was found among the fallen and taken to the camp of the victorious side.

This snake person carried himself with an air of distinction. He was clearly someone of importance.

Though his crown was missing, his enemies managed to recover the one he had cast aside.

A soldier seized him by the hair and forcefully placed the crown back on his head.

“Come on!”

“King of Ten Thousand Serpents!”

“Wear your hat!”

Then they dragged him to a wooden platform.

“Kneel!”

The soldier struck him to the ground, then forced his head up.

It was a posture of complete degradation.

For the defeated, dignity no longer exists.

A snake person wearing armor and carrying a sword arrogantly used the king’s body as a step to mount the wooden platform, accepting the cheers of all the soldiers.

The soldiers present laughed wildly at the sight of the king sprawled pathetically on the ground.

Hahahahaha!

Mere humiliation was not enough. There was also blood vengeance to exact.

After mocking him, all the soldiers erupted in unified shouts.

“Kill him!”

“Kill him!”

“Kill him!”

A soldier stepped forward with a knife and flayed the king’s skin while he was still alive, then impaled it on a long spear.

He waved it vigorously, like a flag.

This cruel and violent act was met with the boiling blood and cheers of the crowd.

Ho!

Ho ho!

The once lofty king was skinned and dismembered like one of the herdsman’s beasts, treated with merciless cruelty.

All traces of his nobility were gone.

At the foot of the Mountain of Life’s Origin

The Shepherd’s River grew increasingly turbulent as heavy raindrops pelted its surface, creating waves that sent ripples cascading outward.

Boom boom!

Thunder rolled in the sky as a torrential rain fell on the city at the foot of the divine mountain.

Months earlier, the King of the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents had decided to wage war against the Thunderlake Kingdom of Thunder Marsh.

As they had done repeatedly in the past, whenever internal stability began to falter, they chose to direct their focus outward by initiating war.

War was a way to consume population, plunder wealth, stabilize power, and eliminate opposition.

The kings who lived on the Herdsman’s Plain had refined this tactic over many generations.

Sometimes their target was a border city of Suinhor.

Other times, it was the tribes that opposed their rule.

This time, they had chosen the Thunderlake Kingdom, a nation established only a few decades ago.

However, this approach to resolving conflicts had started to lose its effectiveness over time.

In the past few years, the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents had shown clear signs that it was on the brink of collapse.

Internal conflicts grew more intense as nobles and ministers vied for power and profit. The authority and prestige of the King of Ten Thousand Serpents steadily declined, while within the royal family, bloody struggles for the throne inflicted severe internal damage.

The system of ten thousand household tribes and thousand household tribes had become a hollow structure. These large tribes consumed and destroyed one another, their exact populations uncertain. The royal court lacked the power to control them.

On the southern Herdsman’s Plain in particular, many tribes began to imitate the systems of Suinhor and the Land of Sunrise. They initiated reforms, building cities and farms, training ability users, establishing alchemy workshops, and arming their own armies.

These southern lords had become so powerful that even the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents did not dare to challenge them. Only the long-standing prestige of the Royal Court kept them from openly rebelling.

Lightning lit up the palace, cutting through the darkness.

Although it was daytime, the sky was as dark as night.

Several attendants hastily led a messenger into a building in the royal court style. The messenger, soaked from head to toe, fell prostrate on the ground.

A woman sat behind a curtain, a young child clinging to her.

The woman spoke, her voice urgent.

“Where is the king?” she asked.

“Where is the army? Is there any news?”

The messenger’s face was deathly pale. His soaked body trembled constantly, whether from cold or from fear was unclear.

“The king is dead,” he said.

“The people of the Thunderlake Kingdom killed the king. They flayed his skin, turned it into a flag, and raised it at the border.”

After hearing this, the queen put down the child and rushed out from behind the curtain.

She opened her mouth to say something.

“You…”

Her words faltered. Her face turned ashen, and she collapsed to the ground in a faint.

The Thunderlake Kingdom was a country established by snake people who had lived in the Thunder Marsh for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years.

They worshipped a deity called the Sky Beast God.

Although this deity never responded to their prayers, they still believed in the deity’s existence.

The cloud mountains and the kingdom deep within Thunder Marsh were symbols of their deity’s presence.

In the eyes of the late King of Ten Thousand Serpents, these people had been just savages living in the swamp, insignificant fishermen and hunters.

The King of Ten Thousand Serpents had planned to crush this newborn kingdom and use the victory as proof that the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents was still powerful, his authority unshaken.

However, these marsh dwellers had delivered a devastating blow to the King of Ten Thousand Serpents. This was also a critical strike against the Royal Court itself.

Although the queen had fainted, the sense of urgency in her heart, like a taut string, kept her from remaining unconscious for long. She woke quickly under a physician’s treatment.

She immediately shouted, summoning her guards.

“Seal off this news at once!” she ordered.

“Don’t let anyone know about this!”

However, it was already too late.

Someone had already learned of the catastrophic loss at the front. Or perhaps this devastating outcome had been quietly shaped by mortal intervention from the very start.

The clash of armor came from outside, accompanied by the slithering sound of snake tails.

Boom!

Lightning flashed, illuminating the stairs outside, and was followed by the deep rumble of thunder.

The lightning cast sudden shadows into the room, each one resembling a monstrous figure gesturing from the abyss.

Groups of soldiers rushed in, disarming the palace guards or killing them on the spot.

A commander raised his hand, signaling the others to stop.

The group obeyed, but their eyes still burned with ferocity, and the room remained heavy with their unspoken killing intent.

The commander came alone to the queen’s side and looked at her and the child.

“What are you going to do?” the queen asked fearfully.

“Do not be afraid,” the commander replied.

“I am here to protect you, Your Majesty, and the young prince.”

Inside an ancient temple that rose like a city within the heart of Fort Pence

Outside, the wind howled and rain lashed against the walls. Inside, dim candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the hall. The golden statue of the deity stood tall, its presence dominating the room, while the snake woman knelt in reverence before it.

This was the Temple of Ten Thousand Serpents.

The snake woman wore a blindfold over her eyes. She had sacrificed her sight to the great existence, gaining powers that were both unknown and mysterious.

She was the blind prophetess, a role passed down through generations since the time of the herdsman tribes.

The blind snake woman clasped her hands to her chest, held her head high, and faced the deity.

Amid the crashing thunder and the relentless noise of pouring rain, she tilted her head as if perceiving something hidden within the darkness.

“I see it,” she whispered.

“I see the gods turning their gaze to the mortal world.”

“I see the black-haired messenger bringing gospel for the gods, I see ancient existences awakening from darkness, I see God’s apostles walking in the mortal world carrying their will.”

“I see that fate has arranged everything.”

Finally, trembling, she spoke her last sentence.

“I see…”

“This country will perish.”

She shook her head, tears flowing down her face.

Her voice trembled in the dim temple as she wept, “Blood will flow, and corpses will pile like mountains.”

When Sukob arrived at Fort Pence, the aftermath of a great purge lingered in the air. The heavy scent of blood still clung to the city, refusing to fade.

Everyone in Fort Pence wore tense expressions. People on the streets hurried by without lingering, and even merchant caravans from afar maintained unusually low profiles.

Sukob entered the city alongside the witch spirits and was met with the startling news of the King of Ten Thousand Serpents’ death. The Thunderlake Kingdom, once dismissed as insignificant, had solidified its standing through this decisive battle.

Unlike in the past, most people on Ruhe Beast Island now acknowledged the country and accepted its legitimacy.

The many witch spirits were all shocked, unable to believe that the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents could be defeated by such a small country.

“The King of Ten Thousand Serpents is dead?” one asked.

“And a new king will be crowned today?” another added.

“A child king?”

A young witch spirit’s voice was filled with disbelief. “This is the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents?”

“The royal court was defeated so badly that the king himself died on the battlefield?” others discussed among themselves.

“Before he died, the king endured the greatest humiliation. Afterward, they flayed his skin and turned it into a flag.”

“Surely the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents will seek revenge, right?” someone asked.

An older witch spirit expressed a different view.

“Perhaps not,” he said.

“Or rather, the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents no longer has the means, nor the energy, to launch a counterattack against the Thunderlake Kingdom.”

“Have you heard? The new king is a child!”

Others asked, “What’s wrong with that? Haven’t there been young Kings of Ten Thousand Serpents before?”

“The Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents remains strong and prosperous.”

“There are countless people and soldiers under its banner.”

But they did not understand how many of those people and soldiers were truly under the command of the King of Ten Thousand Serpents, or how many remained loyal to the royal house.

The older witch spirit simply shook his head and said, “It is different now.”

He chose not to explain what was different. It seemed that in Fort Pence, within the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents, certain things could not be spoken openly.

The old snake person leading the group remained silent the entire time. Yet, he was likely the one who understood the situation most clearly.

Sukob sensed troubling signs, indications of looming chaos.

For centuries, the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents had faced numerous issues. Yet, despite these persistent challenges, the dynasty had managed to endure.

Most regions still held on to a fragile sense of stability.

Once this behemoth fell with a crash, Sukob could only imagine the scene that would follow.

It would be a landscape of corpses piled like mountains and seas of flowing blood. Yet, what would emerge from the transformation that followed?

Would it be a rebirth similar to that of the Land of Sunrise?

Or would it be something entirely different?

The arrival of the Wasteland Witch Spirits was, nonetheless, warmly welcomed by the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents.

The divine servants of the Temple of Ten Thousand Serpents came to meet them, led by this generation’s prophetess.

Next, they attended the coronation ceremony of the King of Ten Thousand Serpents.

As they observed the proceedings, it became clear that the rumors were true.

The King of Ten Thousand Serpents of this generation was indeed a child.

The prophetess of the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents placed the crown on the king’s head.

However, the audience’s attention was drawn to a commander standing at the foot of the stairs.

Only when this commander knelt did the crowd follow, bowing low to the ground in reverence to the King of Ten Thousand Serpents.

They began to shout.

“King of Ten Thousand Serpents!”

“King of Ten Thousand Serpents!”

“King of Ten Thousand Serpents!”

Sukob stood below, watching this seemingly solemn but essentially performative coronation ceremony.

A mix of emotions churned within him.

The child who had just become King of Ten Thousand Serpents, unaware of what others were thinking, burst into laughter.

Hee hee hee hee!

The signs of a dynasty’s end were on full display.

At this moment, only one thought crossed Sukob’s mind.

“The Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents may have reached its end.”

At the same time, he considered other matters.

Significant changes were recently unfolding in various regions.

These changes were happening both across the sea in Avel and on Ruhe Beast Island, in the Land of Sunrise.

The story of new forces rising to overthrow old dynasties was unfolding across the land.

It appeared that civilization itself had reached a pivotal moment.

This marked the turning point between the old era and the new.

As apostles of various deities emerged, this transformation reached its peak.

Not only were mortals seeking change, but even the gods above the clouds were searching for an answer.

“Has the pivotal moment of the era arrived, creating such waves?” Sukob lowered his head, his thoughts turning inward.

“Could it be the will of the gods that has brought about these changes?”

“Or is it the choice of the era itself?”

“And in this era, what role am I meant to play?”

Sukob knew much, yet the more he learned, the more reverent he became.

The more he understood about the lofty gods, the humbler he felt.

He was overwhelmed by his own insignificance and struggled to see the future with clarity.

He was like a circle. As his circle of knowledge expanded, its edge touched more of the unknown that lay beyond.

“God, what can I do for You?”

“What do You need me to do?”