Twelve Dog Demons, plus the Yellow King himself.

That matched what the predecessor’s memories had suggested.

Setting aside the elderly, the young, and the non-combatants — this handful of elite demons was enough to claim an entire region, dominate the surrounding area, keep eight hundred garrison soldiers pinned inside Baiyun County’s walls, and put fear into every constable in the yamen.

And this was considered the weakest of the four demon factions in the area.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come. Didn’t think you’d stand in front of me like this either.”

Atop the enormous palanquin, the Yellow King raised its head with languid ease, looking down from on high. It worked at something beneath a fingernail. “Since you’re here — might as well ask.”

The gravelly voice stayed flat. Only the eyes shifted slightly.

“Do you have sons? I lost two of mine. I had—” it counted on its fingers, irritation flickering across its face, “—can’t remember. I was never particularly fond of them. But losing two at once still sits uncomfortably.”

“Strange thing, though. Both places where they disappeared — your jurisdiction.”

“Out of respect for how you’ve always conducted yourself in the past, explain it to me. I’ll leave your body in one piece.”

It settled back again. Around the palanquin, the elite Dog Demons let their lips pull back, rows of cold white fangs showing.

“…”

Shen Yi tightened his grip on the hilt and answered with action.

He launched forward, both hands driving power through the blade — and in the instant the nearest Dog Demon’s pupils contracted, the steel was already through its heart.

Thunk.

The whole exchange was over in the time it takes lightning to cross the sky. Only when Shen Yi exhaled his first breath did the remaining demons register what had happened — and then the roaring tore through the village like a breaking wave.

Twelve demons carrying a palanquin — and for the first time, it swayed.

The Yellow King pushed itself upright and looked down, meeting Shen Yi’s eyes. What it saw there was still and clear — no fear, no anger, just a dense and settled killing intent.

It draped itself over the edge of the platform, the folds of skin lifting to reveal eyes flooding with murderous light. A low, rolling snarl built in its throat.

“That’s how you did it? That’s how you killed my sons?”

“And now you’re standing here trying to kill me?!”

Its massive body left the palanquin. It blotted out the sky as it descended, the flesh of its arms shuddering and swinging like loose sacks, the palm coming down with enough force to split a hillside.

The other Dog Demons set down the platform and hunched forward — saliva dripping between their fangs, cutting off every direction of retreat.

In the instant that enormous paw fell, Shen Yi shifted.

The Serpentine Eight Strides, refined to Perfection, opened fully — and a wall of demons with no gaps between them became, to him, a corridor.

He moved through it like someone taking an evening stroll.

The moment the Yellow King’s weight crashed into the earth, Shen Yi’s backhand cut took another demon’s head off cleanly.

To his eyes, these so-called elite warriors — screaming on instinct, attacking on hunting reflex — were riddled with openings. They didn’t come close to the ape demons he’d faced before.

Two dead in moments.

The Yellow King’s lazy ease was gone. “Get back!” it snarled.

Its bulk was far more agile than it looked. It spun, palm clenching, slamming down again — and this time crimson death-energy rose through its skin, bleeding up through the fur like embers through smoke. It was genuinely angry now.

At its command, the remaining demons pulled back and cleared a path.

Which, for Shen Yi, was a gift. His blade moved more freely, his footwork ghosting along the edge of one demon after another, each pass leaving a opened throat behind.

The Yellow King, meanwhile, had to mind its own people with every strike — every swing calculating the gap between its target and its own kin. It bled momentum with each attempt, and another missed hit deepened the fury coiling in its chest.

Three. Six. Eight.

Demons were not prolific. Those born without sentience, those who died young before their minds opened — only the strongest survived long enough to matter. The Yellow King had accumulated its line across many years, and now half of them lay scattered in the dirt in the span of a few breaths.

Two more fell.

Shen Yi stood with his back to the Yellow King, drawing the blade free with unhurried ease.

“DIE!“

The Yellow King roared forward, massive arms sweeping wide — catching two of its own demons that happened to be in the way and hurling them along with the impact.

Thunk. Thunk.

The last surviving demons looked up at their patriarch, uncomprehending.

Steel protruded from both their abdomens — driven in from behind, pinning them together like beads on a string.

“Can you remember now,” Shen Yi said, turning to face the Yellow King, blade held at his side, “how many sons you had?”

The blood on his face made his features look starker. The corner of his mouth had lifted into something cold and small.

In the village behind him, the few villagers who had looked up — people who had endured more suffering than most would ever see — pulled their arms tighter around themselves at the sight. Something about it made the skin crawl.

The young constable with the slight frame was still standing perfectly straight. At his feet, the ground was unrecognizable — severed limbs scattered across the soil, demon heads tumbled down into the paddy ditches below, their faces locked in permanent snarls. The dry earth had drunk so much blood it had turned the color of rust, and the smell of iron hung over the entire village.

One man. One blade. Everything in front of him had become something out of a nightmare — and the village behind him was still the same village it had been.

The massive demon was breathing hard now, its layered flesh trembling with each inhale.

Shen Yi raised the blade slowly toward the space between the Yellow King’s eyes, tilting his head. “I thought you enjoyed this kind of scene.”

After all — it took effort to take a person apart piece by piece and leave them scattered across a courtyard.

The Yellow King looked up. Then it let out a soft, rasping laugh. “Dead and gone. Lighter without them, if anything.”

As the words landed, something changed in its flesh — the trembling found a rhythm, and then the crimson death-energy began to rise through the skin, thicker than mist, denser than fog, blooming outward until it swallowed everything around them.

Whatever the death-energy touched — the demon corpses, the pools of blood — began to hiss. It dissolved on contact, running off as dark fluid within moments.

Shen Yi didn’t panic.

He’d expected this. A Greater Demon meant genuine transcendence — it would hardly have nothing beyond brute strength.

In a single breath, all five apertures opened at once. White mist laced with crimson rose from his skin to meet the death-energy — and where the two touched, they consumed each other like water and fire, burning through fast on both sides.

No time to waste.

He stepped forward and brought the blade down hard.

Tear—

Steel bit into the juncture of the Yellow King’s neck and shoulder. Carrying the breath of heaven and earth, the cut opened through flesh and fat like paper tearing — a wound that ran from shoulder to abdomen, gaping wide.

The next instant, death-energy ten times denser than before came howling out of the gap.

The Yellow King’s head lolled sideways, the bones of its neck clamping onto the blade. It lurched toward Shen Yi as if it meant to fold him into itself.

“…”

Shen Yi let go of the hilt.

Five fingers closed into a fist. No technique. No elegance. Just a punch thrown with everything behind it.

The Yellow King’s flesh rippled outward from the impact in slow, rolling waves.

(End of Chapter)