Two middle-aged men stood in a wide, verdant-green valley surrounded on either side by soaring, craggy mountain ranges. The grass, which covered the entire area, was uniformly ankle-high, lime-green, and sparkled in the sunlight with spiritual dew. It would also peacefully sway in response to the cool breeze. The valley continued Northward, thinning, and widening in some regions due to the mountains, before terminating in a dense woodland. To the South, the valley slowly petered out- the visibility swiftly dropping as a thick, cloying fog hovered over the land, its depths inscrutable; the color was leeched out of all life bordering this phenomenon. And lastly, to the West was a small, dormant volcano. Its steep, obsidian-black slopes releasing an ominous, deathly aura that washed over the desolate, ash-covered lower regions.

The entirety of this land was situated upon a massive, stationary island levitating in the sky. The island was surrounded by an ocean of fog a few miles below its boundary, imitating the image of a lone rock cutting through the current of a shallow stream.

Tang Xiang stood on the easterly side of the valley. He was a tall, jade-skinned man with angular eyebrows, defined cheekbones, thin lips, and a rounded, cleft chin. The immaculate, black silk robe he wore clung to his lean figure- drawing one’s gaze to his narrow waist, broad shoulders, and defined chest muscles. His loose, straight black hair reached down to his waist, unaffected by the gentle breeze. The right sleeve of his robe was torn off at the shoulder, exposing a whipcord-muscled right arm with a dragon tattoo coiling around the limb- the dragon's tail wrapping around his wrist and ending in the center of his palm while its head and claws were proudly displayed on the outside of his shoulder. The tattoo’s graceful, swooping lines were seemingly alive as they shimmered against his skin. His pale blue eyes glinted with arrogance and crackled with heavenly energy. An ordinary steel broadsword hung suspended behind his back, attached to nothing, yet remained floating at the perfect distance to be drawn- its two-handed grip and cross-guard diagonally rising over his right shoulder and the tip of the blade extending past his left heel. An overall ordinary weapon compared to its wielder. The broadsword’s only remarkable aspect, and the one hint that the weapon was anything but ordinary was the pommel- a deep blue, jagged crystal that sporadically discharged forks of lightning into the air.

The other man was Mao Duyi, who stood on the westerly side of the valley. An individual of average height with tanned skin. His features were remarkably ordinary, with hooded brown eyes, large lips, smooth eyebrows, and a triangular face- a shallow burn mark on his left cheek. He was only wearing a pair of loose, plain white-silk pants, leaving his wide torso, chiseled abdominal muscles, muscular arms, and large hands exposed. Both of his upper ears were pierced with radiant metals emitting small, rainbow-colored coronas of light. And on each finger was a different ring with one or many alchemically condensed Beast Cores embedded into their structures. And hanging around a thin, silken string around his neck and resting in the center of his bare, muscular chest was a thick, jade pendant etched with profound symbols. His shoulder-length, straight, light-blonde hair is styled with a dozen colorful braids that similarly emitted signatures of Spiritual Treasures. His perfectly trimmed full beard was a shade darker than his hair.

“So, it’s Daoist Heavenly Azure Dragon.” Mao Duyi condescendingly sniffed, sizing up the other Immortal cultivator standing at the valley’s end- and found him wanting. The fifth stage of Half-Step Immortal held no place in the eyes of a tenth stage Half-Step Immortal such as himself. The mystic dirt and spiritual grasses beneath his feet were more useful than whatever items he could steal from the man. This was Mao Duyi’s initial reaction after scanning the cultivator with his Spiritual Sense.

However, Mao Duyi had not spent more than nine centuries of ascending through Heavenly Tribulation, chasing Fated opportunities and lucky chances, and waging unceasing, brutal warfare on the path to Immortality for nothing. He understood that there was a strong possibility this cultivator was suppressing the true strength of his cultivation base. If this was indeed the case, then the worst-case scenario was that Daoist Heavenly Azure Dragon was of equal footing with Mao Duyi- he did not entertain the idea his opponent was stronger given the overall pacing of the war. If the opponent were truly stronger, they would have instantly crushed all opposition to their power instead of allowing another to trample over their belongings and pillage their Kingdoms.

Mao Duyi may be a supremely arrogant man, but he was not without rationality and cunning; warfare was not only conducted on the field of battle. After over a millennium of wading through blood and climbing over the corpses and bones of his enemies, Mao Duyi developed a supremely arrogant mentality- the curses of his defeated enemies were the sweetest musical notes in his ears, and only the most beautiful, powerful women decorated his bed. And it was not only his victories, women, and treasures that made him arrogant. It was that everything he was, everything that was his, was achieved through his own efforts. No one stood behind him, no Sect could take credit for his actions and achievements- every martial technique was his own, the Dynasty he had erected overnight seven centuries ago was his own. Every Heaven-defying and life-saving treasure was accumulated through his own efforts and set aside as an inheritance for his progeny.

He considered himself the epitome of what every Rogue Cultivator aspired for. And this day...

Mao Duyi was nearly shaking from excitement.

‘My final test- the decisive battle before my ascension to the Heaven Realm.’ He could feel the weakened bottleneck that he needed to breakthrough for his ascension to first stage Sage Immortal.

“The coward finally arrives?” Mao Duyi clenched his hands into fists at his sides, the sound of his finger joints popping sounded like miniature glaciers cracking and dislodging from an ice shelf. His gaze burned with an inner fire- despite his opponent’s lackluster cultivation, the reward was exponentially more valuable.

Tang Xiang’s cold gaze bore into the ant that arrogantly dared to speak in his presence. The dog even displayed its puny treasures across its body- flaunting garbage and spewing crap. He would not lower himself to addressing such a creature. The absolute most he would grant it was a painful death on account of it soiling the surrounding air with its breath.

Tang Xiang flicked a finger.

Mao Duyi’s next condescending insult stuck in his throat while his pupil’s shrunk into pinpricks as the shadow of Death itself loomed over him.

Far below on mortal soil, two armies of more than five hundred million soldiers stood opposite one another. Each frontline was approximately fifty-thousand men and women across, and ten-thousand deep- with equal numbers of swordsmen, pikemen, and archers divided into regiments of over one hundred million.

The two opposing Generals were almost standing hip-to-hip in the center of the space between their respective forces, craning their necks up to the sky, their eyes squinted against the glaring suns with sweat beaded across their brows.

The general with dull red leather pauldrons embroidered with golden dragons lowered his hand from his face and slightly turned his body to the left toward his nemesis.

“Honorable Brother Meng,” General Sun Shanyuan turned to address the man by his side. “Would you entertain a conversation while our fates hang in the balance?”

General Kang Meng briefly glanced at Sun Shanyuan out of the corner of his eye before turning his gaze back onto the base of the island that broke through the clouds. He languidly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt the warmth of the suns on his face.

“En. Let us speak as warriors.” He said solemnly.

Sun Shanyuan looked back to his army. The regimental designation flags chaotically flapped in the wind over his army. Every armored warrior stood straight, still, and silent. He turned back, an expression of guarded wistfulness across his face and a question in his eyes.

“Not as men?”

“It would be pointless.”

“Perhaps.”

Kang Meng glanced at him from the corner of his eyes.

“What do you hope to gain?”

“Perspective.”

Kang Meng grunted, looking back at the island.

“And what do I gain?”

Sun Shanyuan exhaled strongly through his nose, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“A conversation between friends.”

“I do not count you among my friends.” Kang Meng snorted.

“And I consider myself grateful for this! I have heard stories of your victory celebrations- who gives their friends Silver Stemmed Berry Juice?” Sun Shanyuan could not help but good-naturedly reveal some embarrassing information.

Kang Meng stood slightly straighter, the plating and leather straps of his armor stretching or clinking together.

“You- it is a healthy alternative to wine.”

“And what of morale?” Sun Shanyuan said with a smile.

Kang Meng’s eyebrows furrowed, and he turned to address Sun Shanyuan.

“You always mock strangers?”

The sky suddenly darkened, the island’s cloud cover extending another one hundred miles in every direction, including over the island- blue lightning swimming through the clouds like massive, serpentine fish. Thunder rumbled in the distance. And then, without warning, the electric crack of lightning ripped apart the dark sky. Dozens of lightning strikes illuminated the clouds as they all continuously struck something on the island. The ground fiercely shook.

Sun Shanyuan and Kang Meng watched on with grim expressions as a massive pillar of fire erupted from the island, parting the overhead clouds, and dispersing the lightning. It started raining. The ground stopped shaking.

The island fell silent.

“Already? It cannot be as simple as that.” said Sun Shanyuan.

“The Immortals are unfathomably powerful beings- it is best to never make assumptions when they are involved.” Kang Meng stated.

“You admire them?”

“I am merely stating the truth.”

Sun Shanyuan barked a derisive laugh, “An ugly truth.”

“You sound as a child.”

“I would much rather prefer to be a child than a tool.” Sun Shanyuan huffed. “Are we not more than that?”

“No- we are servants." Kang Meng shook his head.

“Do you not long for more?” Sun Shanyuan insisted.

Kang Meng’s face darkened. “The strong rule over the weak. This is the way of the world- of all worlds. There is no other path.” He fully turned to face the other man.

“If you desire change, you must be strong enough to enforce it. Or possess the strength to have others enforce your decrees. It is as simple as this.”

“But why? If the idea has merit, if it is good for all, why should strength or power be that which dictates its use?”

“Because that is your understanding of the Dao.” Kang Meng’s expression turned severe.

“But do you have the strength to preach your Dao over another’s?”

Sun Shanyuan met Kang Meng’s gaze for a few moments before stiffly turning away.

“I suppose not.”

Thunder boomed and lightning tore apart the sky, consecutively striking down from the heavens onto the towering image of a flaming tiger that was half the size of the island.

The Generals’ eyes shook as they witnessed the might of the Immortals.

The tiger reared back its transparent, flaming head and released a bone-shaking roar that seemed to reverberate across the entire continent.

No one in the armies was spared- some vomiting onto the grass, others falling onto hands and knees, some staggering around drunkenly as they lost all sense of themselves, and most simply dropped their weapons or flag poles in shock.

The clouds surrounding the island were thrown into a roiling turmoil as lightning and fire wreaked havoc- especially on the island itself.

“That... It is unlike anything I have ever seen.” Sun Shanyuan dazedly muttered, having recovered enough to stand, and once more watched the battle unfold.

‘Are we safe?’ He wondered. Even at this distance the aftershocks of the battle were enough to rattle over one billion Qi Condensation soldiers. A poorly aimed martial arts technique would absolutely destroy this entire region, let alone the armies.

“Such magnificence. Such power!” Kang Meng spoke passionately.

Similar exclamations came from thousands of soldiers in either army.

“I have never seen anything like this!”

“These must be two of the strongest Immortals in the Mortal Realm!”

“Do not be a fool. They are powerful, but far from the strongest.”

“Is that Heavenly Tribulation lightning? How can this be?!”

“Look at those flames! Truly an Immortal fire technique!”

“Who is winning?!”

“I cannot see anything from here.”

A massive dome of flames bloomed over the entirety of the mountain- constant lightning strikes hammered down onto it from hundreds of angles. The dome suddenly contracted, as though taking a breath, then exploded outward in a tsunami of billowing flames, smoke, and crackling blue lightning.

“What is that?!”

“I see it too!”

A small blue sphere defiantly hung suspended over the island- an ocean of raging flames surrounding it.

“That must be the Immortal!”

“There is such a heaven-defying defensive technique?”

“He did not even try to escape! That was completely defensive!”

The lightning-cloud cover over the island flashed a darker blue, the number of strikes increasing by half and the thunder booming twice as loud.

“Look there!”

Millions of eyes scrutinized the storm with more intensity after hearing some unknown voice shout in surprise. And then- hundreds of gasps sounded when they saw the anomaly.

The lightning was no longer striking the island but was now condensing over the sphere of lightning and slowing spreading out in a strange pattern until it formed the shifting image of a dragon that stared down at the island. An Azure Lightning Dragon!

“It is a dragon!”

“What kind of heaven defying technique is this?!”

The azure lightning dragon raised its head toward the clouds, opening its mouth in a silent roar as thousands of lightning bolts surged across the sky and struck the island. The sky flashed a blinding white, and thunder boomed. Gusts of hurricane winds swept through the valley.

General Sun Shanyuan’s legs collapsed beneath him as his meager cultivation base was entirely suppressed. The sound of crashing armor and snapping leather sounded out beside him as General Kang Meng suffered a similar fate. Along with both armies. Some even outright died from the pain of their Meridians shattering under the strain.

Sun Shanyuan caught himself on his palms and coughed out a mouthful of blood. His eyes bulged in disbelief when he looked to his side.

Kang Meng was only on his knees. Panting, and with concentration written across his face, but unwilling to fall.

‘How- is he that much stronger than me?’ Sun Shanyuan regretfully wondered.

Kang Meng slowly stood.

‘How...’

Sun Shanyuan could feel blood trickling out of his nose, the weight on his body and soul was too much to bear. That was also when he heard the distinct clamor of armor and weapons- Kang Meng’s forces slowly rose to their feet.

‘No...’

Sun Shanyuan looked to his forces, and saw his fate was indeed sealed. For his army were either lying unmoving or on their hands and knees.

‘No! This- this cannot be...’

Sun Shanyuan hung his head, some of his inky black hair having escaped his helmet and hung in strands beside his face. He heard footsteps and the crunching of dry grass. He craned his head up, squinting against the suns. Kang Meng came to a stop in front of him. Sun Shanyuan hung his head.

“So, this is how it ends?” he spoke to the ground. The dry grass pricked his palms. Drops of sweat fell from the ends of his hair, his eyes absently watching as they wet the ground.

“Yes.”

“I have one request.”

The sound of a sword scraping against a scabbard rang in Sun Shanyuan's ears.

“Do not allow my soldiers to suffer.”

Silence.

“I won’t.”

“Thank you, General Meng.”

The wind whistled. Blood sprayed the grass in front of him, spattering across his hands. His eyes slowly closed for the last time.

That night, an entire kingdom of fifty billion mortals was annihilated before the sun of the next morning breached the horizon.

Nightmarish stories swept through the lands.

Farmers gossiped as they travelled along dusty roads hauling rice, spices, and vegetables.

Guardsmen practiced and exercised, boasting of their martial prowess and how the battle would have been different if they were present.

Nobles calmly sipped steaming tea in their reading rooms, discussing the tide of politics and inevitable repercussions to their businesses.

Silver taels, gold bullion, and Spirit Stones exchanged hands.

Cultivation Sects collapsed while others rose to tower above the rest- their reputations and disciples exponentially increasing.

Despicable rumors about dishonorable, nefarious Rogue Cultivators spread. Many were hunted down; most were driven from their cultivation caves or exiled.

No one was, however, surprised. Kingdoms rose and fell with the coming of another day. Cultivators waged total war with one another in the skies on a weekly basis- and mortals caught the aftermath every time. It was normal. It was life.

After all, the strong rule over the weak.