"Now," the Death Sun said, his tone dark and ominous, "I've humored you all long enough. I'm willing to let you leave if you hand over the alien woman. She's of no use to any of you. If you refuse, I'll satisfy myself with these two." His cold, dead eyes glinted with malicious intent as he glanced at the unconscious Dusking Sun and the barely lucid Lording Sun.
Shen Bao's mind raced, his thoughts a whirlwind of desperation and determination. The situation was dire, but he refused to let despair take hold. "Red Sun, is your teleportation gate still active?" Shen Bao asked, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.
"It is, but what's the point? We can't even leave to use it!" The Red
Sun snapped, frustration evident in his voice.
"You can't," Shen Bao said, his eyes narrowing with focus. "But I can." Without wasting another moment, he sat down in a lotus position, his mind retreating from his body as his consciousness delved deep within.
Shen Bao's consciousness disappeared from the palace, reappearing in the depths of the Hall of Elders at the Red Sun's graveyard. Shen Mo's body, buried deep within the earth, was free. With a surge of power, Shen Mo tore through the soil, breaking free from the grave that had held him.
His body moved with incredible speed, a blur of motion that left the surrounding cultivators stunned and speechless.
In no time, Shen Mo had reached the edge of the Red Sun's territory, where the teleportation gate awaited. His speed was breathtaking, far beyond anything his former level would have allowed. The Void Stage had granted him power beyond his wildest dreams, and he intended to use every ounce of it to save his allies.
"Who are you?" the guards at the gate demanded, their voices filled with suspicion.
With those chilling words, he and his captives began to sink into the ground. As they vanished, the Death Sun left them with one final, cryptic warning: "You all spend so much time watching the skies, worried about distant threats, that you failed to notice the dangers lurking at your feet. Your arrogance will be your downfall."
As the Death Sun and his captives disappeared, the rest of the Suns were left in stunned silence, their minds racing to process the gravity of the situation. The barrier still held strong, an unbreakable prison that kept them from aiding their comrades.
But the nightmare was far from over.
A deep, ominous rumbling shook the ground beneath the Sea of Demons. The earth itself seemed to split apart as if reacting to the immense pressure of the horrors that lay beneath. Cracks spread like a disease, carving through the landscape and releasing a wave of foul energy that made the air thick with malevolence.
From those cracks, an army of Walkers began to emerge, clawing their way out of the darkness. These weren't just any Walkers—they were Rakshasa, twisted and reanimated into monstrous undead abominations. Their bodies were grotesque, their eyes glowing with an eerie light as they swarmed the walls of the twelve cities.
Their claws scraped against the stone, and their guttural growls filled the air with an otherworldly menace. They moved with a single-minded purpose, a relentless drive to consume and destroy everything in their path. The sight of these abominations, once mighty Rakshasa now reduced to mindless puppets, sent a wave of dread through the defenders.
The cities trembled under the weight of the assault, their walls shuddering as the Walkers threw themselves against them with suicidal abandon. The very ground beneath the Sea of Demons was breaking, shattering bit by bit as more and more Walkers emerged, their numbers swelling into an unstoppable tide.
Two Suns had been captured. The enemy forces had mounted a full-scale assault, pressing in on all sides. Walkers had emerged right under their noses, and the most powerful force in the Beyond was trapped, unable to act. The atmosphere was thick with despair, the taste of defeat lingering in the air.
The Beyond's future had never looked bleaker. It was as if the universe itself was conspiring against them, determined to snuff out the last vestiges of hope. And yet, even in the face of such overwhelming odds, a spark of defiance remained. Shen Bao's mind raced, calculating, planning—there had to be a way out, a way to turn the tide.
But with every second that passed, the shadows deepened, and the world seemed to edge closer to a darkness from which there would be no return.