The sky trembles as two new auras erupt from the battlefield below.

Power surges upward like twin pillars of fire.

Two figures rise from the ranks of the tribal army.

One carries a massive stone hammer resting across his shoulder.

The other holds a pair of curved bone blades that gleam with cold light.

Their presence distorts the air as they ascend toward the battlefield in the sky.

The Red Boar leader steadies himself when he senses them approaching.

Blood still drips from the wound across his chest, staining the fur lining of his armour.

Yet his eyes burn with savage triumph.

“Good,” he growls.

“Let us crush him together.”

The two newcomers stop several hundred metres away.

They position themselves around Merin, forming a loose triangle in the sky.

The leader of the Raven Tribe lowers the stone hammer from his shoulder.

His body is broad and heavy, his aura thick like mountains.

Dark grey energy gathers around the hammerhead, compressing the air with immense weight.

Opposite him, the leader of the Snow Moth Tribe spins his curved bone blades slowly in his hands.

Cold light flickers along the edges of the weapons.

Thin strands of pale frost energy drift through the air around him.

The sky grows silent for a single breath.

Then the three leaders move.

The Raven Tribe leader strikes first.

He lifts the hammer overhead and brings it down with terrifying force.

The weapon falls like a collapsing mountain.

Merin raises his sword.

Steel and stone collide.

A thunderous shockwave explodes outward.

The air fractures with a deafening boom as the hammer crashes against the blade.

Merin’s arm trembles under the crushing weight.

Before the force of the hammer fades, the Snow Moth leader appears behind him.

The bone blades flash like crescent moons.

Two pale arcs of cold energy sweep toward Merin’s back.

Merin twists and blocks with the flat of his sword.

The impact sends icy sparks across the sky.

But the force drives him several metres backwards.

The Red Boar leader lunges forward at the same moment.

His spear streaks forward like a burning comet.

Merin barely shifts his body aside.

The spear scrapes across his shoulder.

Heat scorches through his robe.

A shallow cut opens across his arm.

Blood spills into the air.

The three leaders begin to move in rhythm.

They circle him like predators.

The Raven leader attacks with crushing hammer strikes that distort the air.

Each swing carries the weight of a falling mountain.

Merin blocks and deflects, but every collision forces him back.

The Snow Moth leader appears and disappears like drifting frost.

His curved blades slip through narrow openings between Merin’s defences.

Thin lines of frost cut across Merin’s sleeve and side.

Cold energy creeps into the wounds.

Then the Red Boar leader strikes with blazing spear thrusts whenever Merin’s guard shifts.

Heat erupts with each attack.

Their movements synchronise like a hunting pack.

One attacks.

The second forces Merin to shift his defence.

The third strikes the opening.

Merin’s sword flashes constantly.

Parry.

Block.

Turn.

Deflect.

Yet the pressure continues to rise.

The Raven leader’s hammer slams down again.

Merin blocks, but the impact drives him downward through the air.

Before he stabilises, the Snow Moth leader flashes beside him.

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A bone blade slices across Merin’s ribs.

The cut is shallow but clean.

Cold spreads instantly through the wound.

Merin’s movement slows for a fraction of a second.

That moment is enough.

The Red Boar leader thrusts forward.

The spear pierces through Merin’s guard and strikes his side.

The tip tears through his robe and draws a deep streak of blood.

Merin retreats several metres.

The three leaders advance slowly.

They do not rush.

They do not overextend.

Like wolves circling wounded prey, they tighten their formation.

Strike.

Withdraw.

Circle.

Strike again.

Another hammer blow crashes into Merin’s defence.

The shock travels through his arm into his chest.

Before he recovers, a bone blade slices across his thigh.

A spear thrust grazes his shoulder moments later.

Blood drips from several wounds now.

His breathing grows heavier.

Yet the three leaders remain patient.

They continue circling him in the sky.

Waiting.

Weakening.

Hunting.

The three tribal leaders move with careful patience.

The Raven Tribe leader strikes with crushing hammer blows that distort the air.

The Snow Moth leader glides through the battlefield like drifting frost, his curved bone blades cutting from impossible angles.

The Red Boar leader presses forward with relentless spear thrusts, each attack blazing with scorching red energy.

Merin remains in constant motion.

His sword rises.

Falls.

Turns.

Blocks.

Each attack lands with precise timing.

Yet he continues retreating.

Another hammer strike crashes down.

Merin blocks, the impact shuddering through his arm.

Before the shock fades, a curved blade slices across his back.

A thin line of blood appears.

The spear follows immediately.

Merin twists aside, but the spear tip grazes his ribs.

More blood spills.

The three leaders press closer.

They strike in sequence.

Never allowing him a moment to recover.

Yet inside Merin’s spirit space, something entirely different unfolds.

Fragments of power flow continuously into his Virtual Domain.

Every clash captures traces of their energy.

Each fragment disintegrates within his spirit space.

Laws unravel.

Structures reveal themselves.

He studies them.

The Red Boar leader’s Laws of High Temperature and Strength.

The Raven leader’s Law of Dark and Blood.

The Snow Moth leader’s Laws of Frost and Silence.

Piece by piece.

Pattern by pattern.

All of it flows into the framework of his Virtual Space Law.

But something else still has not happened.

They have not transformed.

Their true power remains sealed inside their totems.

Merin blocks another spear thrust.

The hammer crashes from above.

A curved blade flashes toward his throat.

He parries all three in a single motion.

Then he thinks calmly.

If they will not transform.

I must force them.

Merin suddenly stops retreating.

He draws a slow breath.

Then his energy erupts.

A violent surge of violet virtual energy explodes outward from his body.

The sky trembles.

Wind bursts across the battlefield.

The three leaders are pushed backwards by the sudden wave of power.

Merin’s aura rises violently.

The restrained pressure vanishes.

Savage power floods the sky.

His body begins to change.

Violet scales emerge across his arms and shoulders.

Two curved horns grow from his temples.

His pupils narrow into vertical slits.

His fingers lengthen into clawed talons.

Behind him, the phantom of a colossal dragon rises into the sky.

Dragon Man.

Merin’s aura expands explosively.

His power climbs until it stands equal to the three tribal leaders.

Half-step Origin Realm.

The battlefield falls silent.

Even the three leaders stare in surprise.

Then Merin moves.

He vanishes.

The Raven leader barely raises his hammer before Merin’s clawed fist crashes into his chest.

The impact explodes like thunder.

The Raven leader is hurled backwards through the sky.

Before the others react, Merin appears beside the Snow Moth leader.

His sword flashes.

The blade strikes the curved bone weapon.

The force shatters the frost aura around it.

Merin’s elbow slams into the Snow Moth leader’s ribs.

Bones crack.

The warrior spins through the air.

The Red Boar leader roars and thrusts his spear.

Merin catches the shaft with his clawed hand.

The dragon scales resist the heat.

With a violent twist, he sends the Red Boar leader tumbling through the sky.

The three leaders regain balance quickly.

But their eyes have changed.

This opponent is no longer prey.

Below the battlefield, the reaction spreads instantly.

Merin’s soldiers stare upward in shock.

Yet their expressions remain tense.

Except for the members of the Duan family.

Most of the army prepares for retreat.

Inside the city, floating on the lake, tribespeople begin fleeing toward the surrounding forests.

Even victory seems uncertain.

High above, the three tribal leaders steady themselves.

Then their auras rise.

Dark power floods outward.

Behind the Raven leader, the phantom of a colossal black raven spreads its wings.

Behind the Snow Moth leader, a giant white moth emerges, its wings scattering frost across the sky.

Behind the Red Boar leader, the immense crimson boar roars again.

The phantoms descend.

They merge into the bodies of the warriors.

Transformation begins.

Bones shift.

Muscles swell.

Claws extend.

Feathers spread.

Tusks grow.

The three tribal leaders take on their totems’ beastly forms.

Their power surges again.

The sky darkens under their combined pressure.

They attack instantly.

The Raven leader crashes forward like a falling mountain.

The Snow Moth leader vanishes into drifting frost.

The Red Boar leader charges like a burning avalanche.

Merin meets them head-on.

But now the battle changes.

Their strength has doubled.

Merin blocks the hammer strike.

Yet the force pushes him backwards.

The Snow Moth leader appears from the frost cloud.

His blade cuts across Merin’s thigh.

Cold energy seeps into the wound.

The Red Boar leader’s tusk-like spear slams into Merin’s defence.

The impact sends him spinning through the air.

Merin steadies himself.

Then releases his Virtual Field.

Invisible waves spread outward.

The battlefield becomes his domain.

Inside the field, every trace of energy is captured.

Every movement is analysed.

Every law studied.

The battle continues.

Hours pass.

The sun slowly descends toward the horizon.

The sky burns with crimson light.

Merin continues fighting.

Defending.

Analysing.

Learning.

But exhaustion begins to appear.

The three leaders sense it.

They attack together.

The Raven leader strikes first.

The hammer crashes down like a falling star.

Merin blocks.

At that moment, frost chains from the Snow Moth leader wrap around his arm.

The Red Boar leader thrusts.

The spear crashes into Merin’s chest.

The combined force detonates.

Merin is blasted from the sky.

His body crashes into the frozen lake below.

Ice shatters.

Water explodes upward.

On the battlefield, Merin’s army erupts into motion.

Some soldiers run toward the lake.

Others turn and flee.

On the hill, Elder Mu watches silently.

Then she turns to Princess Song Xingli.

“Let’s escape.”

One of the guards hesitates.

“What about the Marquis?”

Elder Mu replies calmly.

“With his cultivation, he will be able to escape.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the three tribal leaders diving toward the lake.

Her thoughts drift.

Perhaps the sect master should cancel the marriage.

Duan Merin is too overconfident.

He should have waited until reaching the Origin Realm before building a city in the Magoon Mountains.

Then she stops.

The lake explodes.

Water erupts skyward like a rising pillar.

From within the shattered lake, something immense rises.

A dragon.

A colossal violet dragon spirals upward from the water.

Its scales shimmer with virtual energy.

Its roar shakes the sky.

The dragon surges forward instantly.

Its claws strike the Raven leader.

The massive warrior is thrown backwards.

The tail sweeps across the Snow Moth leader.

The frost phantom shatters.

The Red Boar leader barely blocks the dragon’s descending claw.

The three leaders are forced back through the sky.

Shock spreads across their faces.

The dragon moves again.

Its attacks mirror their own techniques.

Hammer-like crushing blows.

Frost-like cutting arcs.

Burning spear-like strikes.

Yet each movement is faster.

More precise.

Stronger.

The three leaders retreat under the overwhelming pressure.

Then they break away.

Escape.

They dive toward the distant mountains.

The dragon does not pursue far.

Instead, it turns.

Energy gathers inside its jaws.

Three massive spheres of power launch downward.

They crash into the tribal army below.

Explosions ripple across the battlefield.

The remaining tribal warriors scatter in panic.

From the hilltop, Elder Mu watches silently.

Understanding dawns.

Everything.

Every moment of the battle.

Every injury.

Every retreat.

All of it was under the Marquis’s control.

Yet one question remains.

Why did he not defeat the three leaders earlier?

Her gaze narrows toward the distant sky.

“Is he seducing more enemies into attacking him?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep