Buzz!
A ripple of spatial power spread as John entered a narrow space corridor. Turbulent spatial currents surged around him, forcing him to press forward with no option of retreat.
He paid it little mind, advancing quickly down the unknown path.
Soon, a flash of light signaled the corridor’s end, and without hesitation, he crossed through.
Bang!
A powerful force struck him as he exited, causing him to stagger, nearly losing his balance. The spatial pressure here far exceeded that of the Skyline Continent. It was remarkably solid, nearly as stable as his World-in-Hand.
“So, this is Shadow Star?” He glanced around curiously.
Ahead of him lay a desolate, dilapidated village surrounded by barren land, and a faint scent of blood hung in the air, leaving him feeling uneasy.
“Human, welcome to Shadow Star!” A voice suddenly echoed as a man with flowing blood- red hair appeared out of nowhere, exuding an eerie, sinister aura. He watched John with a cold smile.
An upper-tier god-level powerhouse.
John’s expression hardened, eyeing the man cautiously but making no move to attack.
The red-haired man continued smiling faintly. “No need to be alarmed, human. You arrived just in time; miss this chance, and you’d have to wait another week. Follow me.”
He gestured and began walking towards the crumbling village ahead.
John decided to follow, curious to see what this man intended. If things turned hostile, he had no qualms about eliminating him.
With his recent rise to The Overseer, his power had increased significantly; an upper-tier god was now hardly a challenge.
Soon, he followed the man to a square at the village’s entrance, where a large crowd had already gathered.
These weren’t Shadow Clan members but powerhouses from various races, seemingly all from the Skyline Continent.
“Village Chief, here’s another lamb for you to arrange,” the Shadow Clan warrior announced to an elderly man nearby, leaving John there before turning to walk away.
John was surprised; he couldn’t sense this elder’s power level at all.
“A demigod human, not bad.” The elder appraised John, nodding approvingly before handing him a wooden tag. “Boy, here’s your number, 19557. From now on, it’s also your
identification. Go join the others in line,”
He instructed, waving John away towards the end of the group.
John frowned; the elder gave off an unsettling vibe, one he wasn’t confident he could best in a fight.
Not wanting to reveal his strength, John took the wooden tag and moved to the back of the line.
The queue was over ten thousand strong, filled with cold, even blank faces. Everyone stood in silence, not daring to make a single movement.
Several gazes turned to John, some filled with open hostility.
John frowned. He didn’t recognize these people and had no history of conflict with them.
Stranger still was their mental state; they all seemed haunted, as if they had endured severe torment.
“Godslayer, is that really you?” The man in front of him whispered.
“And you are…?” John studied him curiously. He appeared to be a demigod from the Dragonkind, but John didn’t recognize him.
Hurriedly, the man introduced himself in a low voice. “Sir, I’m Dumas, from the Dragonkin. Lord Hidragon spoke of your feats in the final Secret Area and mentioned how you saved us. I’m deeply grateful.”
“It was a minor effort,” John replied, glancing around in curiosity. “What’s the situation here?”
Dumas shook his head, his voice low. “I don’t know much. I was brought here as soon as I arrived. Luckily, you didn’t resist. Over the past few days, anyone who resisted was killed. Worse, we’ve all been punished together; it’s a kind of soul torment that those below demigod level can hardly bear.”
He shuddered at the memory, clearly still shaken.
Collective punishment?
John scoffed quietly, quickly understanding the Shadow Clan’s plan-to force everyone into submission.
In the end, they wouldn’t even need to act; these powerhouses from various races would turn against anyone who dared oppose the Shadow Clan.
“Silence!” The elder stepped onto a platform, his voice booming. Those who had been whispering instantly fell quiet, a tense silence settling over the area.
Even Dumas snapped to attention, standing perfectly still.
The elder nodded approvingly and continued, “From now on, I am your village chief. You all have only your identification tags, and from now on, you will address each other only by the numbers on those tags. Is that clear?”
Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, clearly displeased but afraid to show it.
“Answer me!” The elder’s eyes swept over them, his expression darkening.
“Yes!” The crowd shouted in unison, startled into a reflexive response.
John frowned, curious about what ordeals these people must have gone through to be broken so easily.
“Good.” The elder’s smile returned as he went on. “Let me repeat the rules: here, you are forbidden from forming factions, leaving the bounds of the starter village without permission, killing Hunters, or engaging in fights with each other. Any violation will result in immediate execution. Understood?”
“Yes!” This time, no reminder from the elder was needed. The crowd shouted in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it a thousand times, their reflexive obedience tinged with a heartbreaking
familiarity.
John’s frown deepened. These rules entirely stifled any chance for the various races to thrive. It was only a matter of time before they became slaves to the Shadow Clan.
The elder continued, “Additionally, you must show absolute respect to the Shadow Clan and
obey their commands unconditionally.”
“Yes!” The crowd responded loudly again.
“Damn it! Curse the Shadow Clan-I’ll never be their lapdog! Kill me if you dare!” Suddenly, a furious roar rang out as a lower-tier demon god charged at the elder, hatred in his eyes.
The crowd’s expressions shifted, a mix of terror and anger, with some even moving to block the rebellious demon.
“Disrespect the village chief? Die!” Several figures burst out from the crowd, jointly striking down the demon in seconds.
Watching this unfold, the others showed no reaction-only frantic desperation, with many hurriedly begging for mercy.
“Spare us, Village Chief! We don’t know him! We’re innocent!”
“He’s a demon. All demons deserve death.”
“Lies! Village Chief, we demons are also loyal to you! We don’t know him either!”
…
Fearful voices rang out as everyone scrambled to prove their loyalty.
John was speechless, curious about what these people had been subjected to that reduced
them to such a pitiful state, stripped of any divine dignity.
“Hmph!” The elder scoffed coldly. “Breaking the rules requires punishment. Rules are rules;
they’re not to be desecrated!”
With a wave of his hand, spatial energy fluctuated, summoning a hunters’ brood mother.
“Hmm?” John was taken aback. This elder’s abilities bore an uncanny resemblance to those of
The Overseer.
Could this man also be an Overseer?
No, that didn’t add up; the Shadow Clan didn’t have an Overseer. He’d likely mastered a
technique similar to The Overseer’s abilities.
Clearly, this place held many secrets.
“Please, sir, we know we were wrong. Spare us!”
“That man truly had nothing to do with us, sir!”
…
Upon seeing the hunters’ brood mother, the crowd fell to their knees, trembling in fear and
pleading.
“Silence!” The elder’s voice boomed, his gaze icy. “You failed to detect the presence of someone disrespecting the Shadow Clan. That is your failure. However, those who took action
against this traitor will be spared punishment.”
“Thank you, sir! Thank you…” Those who had attacked the demon fervently expressed their gratitude.
The others, however, looked stricken with despair, silently resolving that next time, they
would not hesitate to strike first.
“Face your punishment. Half an hour!” The elder patted the hunters’ brood mother beside him.
Despair washed over the crowd as they sat on the ground, trembling.
Roar… The hunters’ brood mother let out an ear-splitting roar, causing the air to ripple.
It was a soul attack.
John’s brow creased slightly.
He’d killed many of these hunters’ brood mothers before and knew they had powerful souls.
He’d always assumed they lacked any soul-based attacks, but it seemed he’d underestimated them.
A searing pain shot through his head, like a swarm of ants gnawing at his mind. Around him, agonized screams filled the air, with several people writhing in pain.
Sitting cross-legged, John channeled the power of spatial laws, using his World-in-Hand to
block out the soul attack entirely.
In front of him, Dumas was trembling, cold sweat pouring down his face, and a trickle of
blood escaping his lips.
The hunters’ brood mother’s attack easily threatened even demigods.
At least it was only intended as torture.
John thought quickly and extended his spatial power, surrounding Dumas to shield him from
the soul assault.
“Huh?” Dumas, suddenly free of the attack, looked confused-it hadn’t even been half an
hour.
Realizing it was John helping him.
He whispered, “Thank you, Godslayer.”
John gave a small nod and whispered back, “Don’t let it show.”
He didn’t want to reveal his strength just yet; he was curious about what these Shadow Clan
figures truly intended. “Understood.” Dumas’s eyes flickered with understanding, and he resumed his pained expression, pinching his thigh hard enough to make cold sweat bead on his forehead as he let
out a pained wail.
John was startled; he’d only meant for the guy to play along, not go all out in a dramatic
performance.
He turned his gaze to the hunters’ brood mother.
It had to be a creature bound by a soul contract with the elder.
He wondered if he could kill it.
John wasn’t sure-the hunters’ brood mother wasn’t very powerful in itself, but the elder’s
presence felt too unsettling.
“Damn you, Shadow Clan! I’d rather die than submit…”
Suddenly, a defiant shout erupted from the crowd as someone lost control, charging at the
elder in a rage.
Boom!
The moment the person moved, they were instantly obliterated, reduced to a cloud of blood
mist, their soul crushed to nothing.
These were once elite figures from various races, beings with pride and courage, now crushed
like ants, tormented by the Shadow Clan’s relentless cruelty.
A few others, unable to bear the torture, also lost control and rushed forward, only to be easily struck down by the elder, leaving them no chance to resist.