Inside the city, those who had miraculously survived the devastation looked up at the ominous black clouds gathering in the sky, their hearts filled with dread.
"Dad, look at the dark clouds! Is it going to rain?" a child asked innocently.
"Gulu... Nanny, hurry inside! Don't come out!" a terrified mother shouted, pulling her children toward the safety of their home.
"Oh my God! What kind of omen is this? Could it be divine punishment?" an old man muttered, his voice trembling with fear.
"Maybe it's the work of powerful immortals clashing again," another survivor speculated.
"Either way, it's us mortals who will bear the consequences!" someone else lamented.
The survivors murmured among themselves, their voices heavy with despair. They had just endured a cataclysmic battle, losing loved ones and witnessing their city turned to ruins. Now, the sky itself seemed to threaten even greater horrors.
Suddenly, something even more terrifying began to unfold.
The blood that had pooled in the streets from the countless fallen began to move, as if drawn by some unseen force. It evaporated into a thick, cloying mist that rose into the air, covering the entire city in a crimson haze. The stench of blood became so overpowering it was suffocating.
Unseen by the survivors, this blood mist was being drawn toward the Third Prince. Dark, malevolent energy swirled around him, thickening the already foul air.
"Transform!" the Third Prince bellowed.
The blood mist was absorbed into his body, which swelled with power. His aura grew exponentially, a violent force that shot skyward like a beacon of darkness.
In that instant, the Third Prince broke through to a new level of power. His cultivation surged, and he reached the mid-stage of Martial Saint, a feat that would have taken others years to achieve.
But it wasn't enough. "More... I need more!" the Third Prince muttered, his voice thick with insatiable greed. His eyes, now glowing a sinister red, reflected his growing madness.
He turned his gaze toward the remaining survivors in Shuofang City. "Why waste such a feast?" he mused, a twisted smile curling on his lips.
"Black-clad guards! Kill them all!" he commanded. "Leave no one alive. Shuofang City will be a dead city!"
Shuofang City, the largest city in northern Yizhou, had once been home to hundreds of millions. Even after the brutal battle, tens of millions remained. Now, they were nothing more than fodder for the Third Prince's dark ambitions.
Inside the city, panic erupted as the black-clad guards descended upon the survivors. A young woman tried to flee but was brutally cut down, her heart torn from her chest by one of the guards. He bit into it with a sickening crunch, savoring the taste as if it were a delicacy.
The black-clad guards, now fully corrupted by their dark cultivation, had lost all traces of humanity. Though few in number, they were powerful—each one a great martial arts master at the very least. Shuofang City, already ravaged by war, had little left to defend itself with.
It didn't take long. The survivors were quickly slaughtered, and Shuofang City was transformed into a silent, lifeless wasteland.
The Third Prince looked on, pleased with the carnage. "Heaven-Devouring Demonic Skill!" he roared, unleashing his full power. The sky darkened further, as a massive cloud of demonic energy descended, enveloping the entire city in a black dome.
Beneath this dome, the essence of the dead—blood, spirit, and soul—was drawn from the corpses and consumed by the Third Prince. Even the souls of the departed, which might have otherwise lingered or reincarnated, were torn from their bodies and absorbed into the dark vortex.
This was the true horror of demon cultivation. It left nothing behind, not even the hope of an afterlife.
The Third Prince's power grew with each soul consumed. The remains of the 300,000 elite soldiers, with their cultivated spirits, provided particularly potent nourishment. The dark energy coursing through him surged to new heights.
The entire Shuofang City had been sacrificed to transform the Third Prince into something monstrous. His body twisted and mutated—horns sprouted from his head, a tail lashed behind him, and his skin turned jet-black, laced with golden veins. He no longer resembled a human, but a demon straight out of the deepest hell.
A terrifying aura radiated from the Third Prince, signaling his ascent to the peak of Martial Sainthood. He was now just a step away from breaking into the legendary realm of Emperor Wu.
And the black-clad guards? They were not left out. As they devoured the flesh and blood of the slain, their own power levels soared. The weakest among them reached the rank of Martial King, while the strongest approached the level of semi-saint.
The rapid rise in their strength was nothing short of astounding. But such power came at a terrible cost—the annihilation of an entire city.