The wind howled through the darkness, carrying with it the stench of blood and death. The Sea of Demons, with its ominous waters that sapped the strength of any who dared touch it, was now a battlefield. The faint glow of the twelve cities illuminated the inky blackness, revealing the monstrous forms of the Rakshasa as they surged forward in endless waves.
Their numbers were overwhelming, a tide of grotesque creatures that seemed to blend into the very fabric of the night. All I could see was an unending wave above the Sea of Demons, moving toward me with an ominous inevitability. Every breed of Rakshasa was present, each one intent on tearing me apart.
I stepped above the churning waters, talismans buzzing with energy, holding me aloft, keeping the cursed sea from draining my Qi. Before me, the White Rakshasa—a seething mass of them—crawled across the water's surface like maggots feasting on a rotting corpse. They were the weakest of their kind, but what they lacked in power, they made up for in sheer numbers.
Their pale, featureless faces turned upward, and I could feel the malevolent hunger in their eyeless gaze.
They were incredibly numerous, making up about eighty percent of the entire Rakshasa forces. A mindless horde, driven by an insatiable need to consume.
But it wasn't the Whites I was worried about. No, the real threat loomed just behind them. The Brutes. Massive, hulking beasts that lumbered forward with deliberate steps, each movement a promise of death. Stomping through the waters, they broke the surface with each thunderous step, sending waves crashing high into the air.
Their muscular forms rippled under the dim light, their arms as thick as tree trunks, and their teeth bared in savage anticipation. The water didn't slow them—they crushed forward with a force that shook the very air around them.
Read latest stories on empire
"Damn it!" I hissed, frustration creeping into my voice. These things were relentless, and I could feel my energy draining with every second I stayed in this cursed place. The talismans were holding, but I could sense their weakening pulse.
The Silvers made their move next. They appeared out of nowhere, their bodies moving so fast they were almost a blur. I barely had time to react before one of them was on me, its claws flashing toward my throat. I twisted, bringing my spear up to block the strike, but the force of the impact sent me reeling. These bastards were fast—too fast.
I didn't have the luxury of a prolonged fight. I needed something more—a technique that could turn the tide. As the Silver Rakshasa circled me, their claws glinting in the faint light, I thought of what all the main characters would do in situations like this. They'd discover some hidden technique, some secret power that would turn the battle in their favor.
But no, I'm not a main character. That role is for Meng Hao. As for me, if I don't use my head properly, I'd die here.
I tightened my grip on my sword, not to strengthen my next blow, but to activate the Heaven Swapping Ring. Instantly, my position swapped with another nearby Silver Rakshasa. The move was faster than lightning, and as the first Rakshasa swung its diamond-strong claws, it ripped through its kin. More Rakshasa lunged at me, but I continued swapping positions, without pause, without delay.
In a matter of three seconds, I had swapped positions more than three hundred times, and each time, a Silver fell to the claws of another.
This was the best way to rid myself of the most ruthless and fastest of the bunch. The Silvers weren't just fast and stealthy; their hides were stronger than even the muscular Brutes, and they were notoriously hard to kill.
Without the Primordial Serpent God's interference last time, I would have died to the Silver Rakshasa. This time, I didn't rely on her and instead used their own sharp claws against them. Fight the Rakshasa with the Rakshasa—that was the only way.