he slid silently past the whispering students and arrived back at his desk.
The moment he sat down, his twin sister, Xu Xia, turned in her seat and glared daggers at him, her arms crossed over her chest and her amber eyes burning with unvented frustration.
Xu Xuandong didn’t even attempt to offer one of his usual playful excuses.
He simply spread his hands wide in total surrender.
“I sign out.” Before she could utter a single word of scolding, his head slammed face-first onto the polished wooden desk with a heavy THUD, and his consciousness instantly plunged into darkness.
His mind floated into an eerie, suffocating void.
A dream manifested—fuzzy, distorted, and shrouded in dense fog.
He couldn’t make out any shapes or colors, but through the static of his subconscious, a faint, metallic voice echoed directly into his mind: Careful…
Xu Xuandong abruptly snapped awake, pulling his head off the desk.
A cold, prickling sensation washed over his spine.
His Alert feat was buzzing—it wasn’t a violent, violent alarm, but a low, persistent frequency vibrating in his soul.
Something bad was coming.
Something dangerous, and soon.
He turned his head to look at his twin sister.
“We are going,” he said flatly.
Xu Xia blinked, her eyes widening in pure shock.
For the first time in her entire life, she found her brother’s expression completely devoid of sarcasm, laziness, or mischief.
His face was cold, sharp, and utterly serious.
“Xuandong…
what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Xu Xuandong didn’t answer.
He simply shook his head, grabbed his coat, and stood up from his desk.
Without waiting for the end of the school day, the twins returned straight to the Sun Moon Imperial Palace.
Leaving Xu Xia in the main courtyard, Xu Xuandong strode directly toward the Emperor’s private study.
Stepping into the room, he looked at his father sitting behind the massive mahogany desk.
“Father…
did something happen recently?” Emperor Xu looked up from his imperial scrolls, visibly surprised by his son’s sudden appearance.
He shook his head.
“No.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Why?
What’s wrong?” Xu Xuandong remained quiet for a beat, then shook his head.
“Nothing.” Internally, his mind was racing.
His Alert feat never misfired.
He knew with absolute certainty that a major threat was converging on his family, but without concrete details, speaking out now would only cause unnecessary panic in the court.
He shifted his gaze, changing the subject.
“I want to go to the imperial treasury.
As you promised me.” Emperor Xu studied his son’s solemn demeanor for a long moment before giving a firm nod.
“Very well.
Follow me.” They descended into the subterranean levels beneath the central palace, passing through dozens of elite guard checkpoints until they stood before a monumental, reinforced metallic vault door etched with high-tier defense arrays.
Emperor Xu pulled out a specialized imperial emblem and a heavy, complex key, slotting them simultaneously into the mechanism.
With a deep, grinding hum of ancient gears, the massive vault slowly unsealed and swung open.
Both father and son stepped into the vast chamber.
Xu Xuandong looked around, his sharp eyes scanning the legendary wealth of the Sun Moon Empire—fields of luminous spirit herbs, stacks of ultra-rare metals, and rows of Grade 8 and Grade 9 soul tools glowing with terrifying power.
Suddenly, a thin, shimmering thread of golden light materialized in his vision.
The Guidance of Grace…
Xu Xuandong followed the golden line as it wove past display cases of priceless jewels, leading him to a secluded stone pedestal in the deepest corner of the vault.
Resting atop a faded velvet cushion was a small, ancient red dagger, continuously emitting a faint, suffocating evil aura.
“Father, what’s that?” Xu Xuandong asked, pointing at the blade.
Emperor Xu’s eyes narrowed the moment he saw where his son was pointing.
He frowned heavily, stepping forward to block his path.
“Don’t get close to it, Xuandong.” Xu Xuandong blinked, staring at the dark energy wrapping around the red metal.
There was a subtle, primordial resonance within that aura—something uncannily similar to the Godslayer Black Flames and the power of Destined Death from Elden Ring.
He didn’t back down.
“Tell me what it is.” The Emperor’s face turned stern.
“I said do not mess with it.
It is not something you should touch.” “Why?” Xu Xuandong countered directly, looking up into his father’s eyes.
“At least give me a reason.
Just saying it like that makes it sound like you don’t want anything good for me.” Emperor Xu let out a long, heavy sigh, his rigid posture deflating slightly.
“It is a cursed weapon left behind by the First Emperor of the Sun Moon Empire.
Simply touching the bare hilt causes a person’s flesh to instantly decay and rot until they die in agony.
Legend says…
it once slaughtered a god.” Xu Xuandong nodded thoughtfully.
Without a single second of hesitation, he channeled his soul power, covering both of his hands in dense, swirling pitch-black Godslayer Flames, and reached directly for the weapon!
He grabbed the hilt.
“LEAVE IT!
PUT IT DOWN!” Emperor Xu shrieked in absolute horror, his soul power exploding as he lunged forward to pull his son back!
Before his father could reach him, Xu Xuandong nonchalantly picked up the cursed dagger and started swinging it randomly through the air, testing its weight with a few casual slashes.
“I’m fine,” Xu Xuandong said, tossing the dagger lightly into the air and catching it by the hilt again.
Emperor Xu froze dead in his tracks, his eyes bulging out of his head, completely shocked beyond belief.
“I choose this,” Xu Xuandong declared, looking down at the red blade.
Internally, his gamer brain was analyzing the feedback: As long as I keep the Godslayer Black Flames continuously active around my hands while holding it, the decay rule can’t touch me.
He could feel it—the blade contained the raw, unadulterated Law of Death.
He faintly recalled a terrifying, god-killing dagger being briefly mentioned in the lore of the original work, but he needed to retreat to his private room to dig deep into his memories and identify its exact origins.
“How…
how are you picking that up without decaying?!” Emperor Xu stammered, his voice shaking.
Because Xu Xuandong had precisely coated only his palms in the condensed black fire, the thin layer of Godslayer Flame blended seamlessly with the dagger’s own dark, evil aura, completely fooling the Emperor’s vision.
Xu Xuandong shrugged casually.
“Maybe because I’m special.” Emperor Xu swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to force his regal composure back into place.
He looked at his seven-year-old son with profound gravity.
“Xuandong…
you must never tell anyone about this.
Not your sisters, and not your mother.
Am I clear?” Xu Xuandong nodded seriously.
“Understood.” Securing the cursed dagger inside a specialized storage tool, Xu Xuandong left the vault and headed straight to his personal quarters.
Locking his heavy bedroom doors, he opened the hidden stone passage and descended into his subterranean sanctuary.
Manifesting his Steam Deck, he summoned Withers and instantly swapped his class from Druid to Wizard, selecting the Divination subclass.
Having previously mastered Glintstone Sorcery, he possessed a deep, fundamental understanding of the cosmos and the movement of the stars.
Sitting cross-legged under the stone ceiling, Xu Xuandong closed his eyes and channeled his spirit power upward, seeking the guidance of the celestial realm.
His mind slipped away, falling into a deep, divinatory sleep.
A dream vision erupted in his mind: Colossal, warhammers rained down from the shattered heavens like meteors, slamming violently into the earth!
Standing amid the destruction were two colossal, terrifying shadows—one taking the shape of a mountain-sized Giant Ape, and the other a massive, armored Serpent with towering horns.
Xu Xuandong snapped awake, his brow furrowed in a deep, dark frown.
When he had used divination in the past, he had managed to view Zhongli Wu’s exact movements from start to finish without the slightest resistance.
But this time, the guidance had manifested strictly as a symbolic prophecy.
Because those two beasts possess genuine divinity, Xu Xuandong realized, his eyes narrowing.
Da Ming and Er Ming…
The Sky Azure Bull Serpent and the Titan Giant Ape.
The raining hammers clearly signified the Clear Sky Sect.
They are coming after my family…
A suffocating, bloodthirsty killing intent flared in Xu Xuandong’s eyes.
Because the two beast kings held traces of divine status, his vision had been fragmented into symbolic metaphors—but fortunately, as spirit beasts, they lacked the intellectual capacity to actively cast counter-divination spells to hide their tracks.
Without wasting a second, Xu Xuandong closed his eyes and cast a second Divination spell, specifically targeting the location of the Clear Sky Sect strike force currently operating within the Sun Moon Empire.
He plunged back into the stellar trance.
This time, the vision cleared.
He saw a hidden encampment tucked deep within a desolate mountain valley on the empire’s border.
Scanning the camp, his mind counted their total numbers: Thirty elite masters—five Title Douluo, ten Soul Douluo, and fifteen high-rank Soul Sages.
Xu Xuandong opened his eyes, his gaze hardening into pure, unyielding steel.
He raised two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp, rhythmic whistle.
From the shadows of the chamber, a dark rat scurried out while a night bird fluttered down onto his shoulder.
Grabbing a piece of parchment, Xu Xuandong rapidly drew a precise map of the mountain valley he had seen in his vision and handed it down.
“Find this exact location immediately.” The two creatures bowed their heads and vanished into the darkness.
Xu Xuandong stood up, pulling out his long-range communication soul tool.
He initiated a high-priority channel to contact his hidden network of old powerhouses.
The signal chimed twice before connecting.
Out of the three grand seniors, only Duke Yang answered.
“Your Highness?” Duke Yang’s stern voice echoed from the soul tool.
“What’s wrong?” Xu Xuandong stared into the dark abyss of his secret chamber, his voice dropping into a cold, terrifying whisper that chilled the air itself.
“We are killing gods.” “Huh?” Duke Yang’s bewildered voice crackled through the spirit guidance communication tool, carrying a sharp mix of static and existential dread.
Xu Xuandong leaned back against his velvet chair, tapping his fingers idly.
“You heard me correctly, General.
But don’t worry—they aren’t full-fledged ones.
They are only budget ones.” A heavy, long-suffering silence echoed over the array before Duke Yang let out a tired sigh.
“Your Highness…
I really don’t believe that makes it any better.” “Are you in or not, Duke Yang?” Xuandong asked, his voice dropping into a sharp, uncompromising tone.
Over the receiver, the veteran commander grunted defeatedly.
“I already gave you my word, Your Highness.
I said I would follow you to death, and I intend to keep it.” “Good,” Xuandong smirked, his eyes flashing.
“Then go secure a Grade 9 Soul Cannon.” “…Huh?” “Do you not have any other words in your vocabulary?” Xuandong deadpanned into the device.
“Your Highness…” Duke Yang rasped, rubbing his temples on the other end.
“With all due respect, I don’t think a Grade 9 Soul Cannon would be enough to harm a god!” “That cannon isn’t meant for the gods,” Xuandong replied, a cold, calculating smile touching his lips.
“It’s meant for the thugs.” Another long pause followed before Duke Yang finally capitulated.
“As you command, Your Highness.” Cutting the signal, Xuandong channeled his spirit power into his right hand.
The dark metallic frame of the Steam Deck shimmered with azure light, reconfiguring its physical shape into the crystalline, glowing bottle of the Flask of Wondrous Physick.
Uncorking it, he downed the golden liquid in a single swig, feeling an instant wave of surging vitality and mental clarity wash over his meridians.
With a swift flick of his wrist, the flask dissolved and remanifested into a weathered, ancient silver bell—the Black Knife Tiche Spirit Calling Bell.
A low, ethereal chime echoed through the silent chamber.
Pale spectral mist erupted across the marble floor, condensing into the sleek, terrifying figure of Black Knife Tiche.
Dressed in shadow-forged armor and wielding her crimson-flamed dagger, the legendary assassin knelt on one knee before him.
Xuandong tossed a parchment scroll onto the desk.
“Search for these specific targets.
They belong to my uncle’s faction.
Eliminate them cleanly.” Tiche caught the list, her glowing red eyes scanning the hit-list.
As she prepared to meld into the shadows, an intrusive, absurdly petty thought popped into Xuandong’s head.
“Wait,” Xuandong called out, tapping his chin.
“Could you also…
castrate every single man in his faction while you’re at it?” The deadly spirit assassin paused, tilted her head slightly, and gave a calm, methodical nod.
“Exquisite.
Get to work,” Xuandong commanded.
As Tiche faded seamlessly into the dark void, Xu Xuandong closed his eyes, summoned the Steam Deck back into its handheld form, and sat cross-legged to enter another deep divination.
The air in the grand hall of the Sun Moon Empire’s royal court was thick enough to choke on.
Seated upon the obsidian throne, the Emperor stared blankly at the parchment in his trembling hands, his expression a bizarre mix of utter disbelief and mounting fury.
“Explain this to me again,” the Emperor said, his voice dangerously low.
“What do you mean more than fifty high-ranking officials were castrated overnight?” The chief royal servant bowed so low his nose nearly brushed the polished marble floor, sweating profusely.
“I-Your Majesty…
it is precisely as the report states.
Over fifty key members of the noble court woke up this morning to find…
a vital part of themselves missing.
And left at every single scene of the crime was a written note.” “And what did the note say?” The servant swallowed hard.
“It…
it read: ‘This was done by Shrek Academy’s Mu En.
If you have the guts, come to Shrek and settle it.'” The Emperor’s lips twitched violently.
A muscle in his jaw worked furiously as he fought the sheer, absurd indignity of the statement.
Mu En?
The Dragon God Douluo?
One of the most venerable, legendary ultimate powerhouses on the continent…
slinking into the capital like a thief in the night just to castrate fifty middle-aged bureaucrats?
It was so blatantly ridiculous it bordered on madness, yet the nerve of whoever penned it was staggering.
However, as the Emperor’s eyes scanned further down the confidential scroll, the faint absurdity melted into a cold, prickling dread.
Underneath the bizarre maimings was a far darker body count: several high-profile assassinations, executed with terrifying, supernatural precision.
Every single victim belonged strictly to his imperial brother’s political faction—a faction that had been quietly gathering power to challenge the throne.
The royal servant cowered further into the polished marble floor, trembling as he whispered the rest of the confidential report.
The absurd claim that Mu En—one of the grandest legends of the continent—was slinking through the capital in the dead of night wielding a pair of shears had completely paralyzed the court with bewildered indignation.
Yet beneath the hysterical panic, the Emperor’s sharp mind mapped the true extent of the damage.
Every single official targeted belonged to his brother Xu Gongfeng’s covert loyalists.
By using absolute, unmitigated absurdity as a smoke screen, the unknown assassin had decapitated the traitorous faction’s command structure without triggering a desperate, bloody civil war.
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed into a dark, contemplative gleam as he realized only one person in the empire possessed such a terrifying blend of lethal precision, hidden resources, and utterly unhinged petty brilliance.
Deep beneath the palace in his subterranean sanctuary, Xu Xuandong opened his eyes from his stellar trance, the celestial light fading from his pupils.
The Divination subclass had served its purpose—the precise coordinates of the Clear Sky Sect’s hidden encampment were burned into his mind.
He glanced down at the dark rat returning with a scrap of parchment, confirming that his shadow scouts had pinpointed the valley.
Thirty high-level combatants, including five Title Douluo, were waiting in the shadows, anchored by the lingering divine pressure of Da Ming and Er Ming.
It was an overwhelming force designed to crush the Sun Moon Empire’s royal line in a single surprise assault, but they had severely underestimated one tiny factor: a seven-year-old prince with a Steam Deck and zero regard for standard martial soul etiquette.
Uncorking another elixir from his inventory, Xuandong re-established the long-range communication link to Duke Yang.
“General,” Xuandong’s voice echoed through the array, laced with a cold, wicked calm.
“I assume the Grade 9 Soul Cannon is secured?” Duke Yang’s raspy voice came through after a long pause, sounding like a veteran commander who had fully accepted his descent into madness.
“It is in position, Your Highness.
But if these intruders truly possess five Title Douluo and the backing of ancient beasts…” Xuandong chuckled softly, tapping the dark frame of his console.
“A Grade 9 Soul Cannon isn’t for a fair fight, General.
It’s the opening argument.
Position the heavy artillery at the valley mouth, seal the perimeter with spirit guidance arrays, and prepare the carpet bombing.
We aren’t going to honor them with a martial soul duel—we’re turning that mountain valley into a giant firing range.”