"Aren't you going to draw your weapon?" a little boy asked curiously, his eyes locked on the composed figure of "Ning Rongrong."
"Go ahead," she replied with a faint smile, hands behind her back. "I'll just stand here. Let's see what you can do to me."
"…She's insane," muttered the little girl in white, seated calmly on her floating lotus. "Sixth Brother, she's even crazier than your mom."
"You dare compare her to my mother? I'll beat her so badly she'll be toothless and begging for mercy," snapped the armored boy. With a furious shout, he charged toward "Ning Rongrong," his energy surging.
Suddenly, tendrils of something tougher than dragon tendons burst from his sleeves, binding "Ning Rongrong" in midair. With a spin that twisted the sky, he slammed her from above into the ground like a comet.
BOOM!
The entire courtyard trembled violently.
A crater over fifty meters deep formed at the impact site.
"Did he win?"
"She must've cracked her skull."
"…No, wait. She's fine!"
The ten boys stared in disbelief.
Even a first-level god would've suffered serious injuries from that attack. Yet, there she stood in the crater, completely unscathed, dust calmly settling around her.
"That's all?"
"Ning Rongrong" chuckled lightly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Don't worry. That was just the appetizer. The real course is coming now."
The armored boy's muscles flexed, and the remaining restraints on his body shattered with a resonant crack.
"Fourth Gate: Gate of Pain, open!"
"Fifth Gate: Limit Gate, open!"
"Sixth Gate: View Gate, open!"
"Take this—Peacock Barrage!"
With a thunderous roar, he launched himself through the air. Red shockwaves exploded around him as compressed air transformed into countless fists that slammed toward the spiked tortoise shell surrounding "Ning Rongrong."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each strike rang like a drumbeat of war.
But then, something strange happened.
The moment those energy fists struck the tortoise shell, they rebounded—each one reversing trajectory and launching back at the armored boy, faster and more powerful than before.
His eyes widened. He tried to dodge.
It was useless.
Each attack had locked onto him, following him like homing missiles—only now, with double the power.
"Aaaaaaah!" he cried out in pain, his body wracked by his own blows.
"What… kind of technique is that?!" another boy gasped.
The remaining nine stared in shock.
The little girl on the lotus, always observant, quickly grasped the principle. "That shell... it's not just defensive. It's like a divine mirror. It reflects attacks, and amplifies them. Unless we have overwhelming force to break it instantly, we won't even scratch her."
"Impossible…" murmured the oldest boy among them. "Who in the God Realm has this kind of power?"
"Doesn't matter!" barked another. "Together, we can break it!"
Their determination reignited.
"Man and Sword as One!"
"Mountains Collapse and Earth Cracks!"
"Radiance of Life!"
…
Their divine powers burst forth in a dazzling storm—sword energy, light, flames, and shockwaves raining down upon "Ning Rongrong" like the wrath of the heavens.
BOOM!
And then… it all reversed.
Everything they hurled at her was reflected.
Only now it was twice as strong.
CRASH!
The counterassault hit them squarely.
"AAAHHH!"
"Ow ow ow—my face!"
"I'm gonna cry…"
One by one, the proud young gods were beaten black and blue, hurled out of the sky and into the dirt.
They had once reigned supreme among the new generation of the God Realm. Yet here they were, defeated… by their own attacks.
"Big Brother, Second Brother, Third, Fourth, Fifth… Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth!" the armored boy cried out, listing their names with growing anxiety.
Then the tortoise-shelled "Ning Rongrong" turned her gaze toward the last one standing—the innocent little girl on the lotus platform.
"…Your turn."
Her smile was calm. But her aura shifted—now heavy and suffocating.
The white-robed girl remained pure and graceful, an incarnation of benevolence. Her very presence could suppress evil. But she was still young… and still afraid.
"Don't you dare touch my sister!"
The armored boy roared.
Crack!
More restraints shattered within him.
From the palace walls, a cry echoed.
"Bian'er, don't!" It was the Golden Dragon King, Gu Ri, her expression filled with panic.
"Eighth Gate: Gate of Death—Open!"
Scarlet steam erupted from the boy's pores as his blood began to boil and evaporate. His muscles expanded violently. Space around him warped and twisted.
The final gate—Death Gate.
The power was overwhelming, capable of shattering mountains and tearing through dimensions. A price paid in flesh and soul. A power even the Five Kage of ancient martial legends would've feared.
And yet—he stepped forward without hesitation.
"Oh~ the eighth gate…" murmured "Ning Rongrong," raising her brows in faint amusement. "Impressive."
"Bian'er, he's your father!!" the real Ning Rongrong suddenly shouted, her voice sharp with urgency.
A moment of stunned silence.
The armored boy hesitated.
"…Dad?"
His power began to waver.
The imposter finally dropped the disguise—gray hair, gray eyes, and a calm aura unique only to him. His features bore a striking resemblance to the boy.
"Gu Ri," he said softly, glancing at the Golden Dragon King, "Is he our son?"
Gu Ri's lips trembled. "Yes… yes, he is. Ye Feng, save him!"
Ye Feng nodded.
He raised his hand. A sliver of pure gray divine energy slipped from between his fingers, gentle as a breeze, yet carrying unfathomable power. It entered the boy's chest—straight into his core.
Vitality, once collapsing, stabilized instantly.
Not only did the boy survive—his heart now beat stronger than ever before.
"…My heart," the armored boy murmured, wide-eyed.
"You now possess the Nine-Aperture Chaos Heart," Ye Feng said calmly. "With it, you can open the Eighth Gate without cost—again and again."
Before anyone could respond, a golden streak of light shot up into the sky and landed beside him.
A girl with scorpion braids and radiant features beamed at Ye Feng. Her eyes sparkled with emotion. Her presence was soft yet resilient, a rare harmony of power and grace.
"Xiao Wu."
Ye Feng reached out and gently patted her head.
"You're finally back," she whispered.
"…Mn."
Xiao Wu turned to the dumbfounded group still recovering on the ground.
"Alright, you little devils. Haven't you been shouting for years about wanting to see your father? Well, here he is. The Chaos God, Ye Feng."
The ten boys and one girl gaped at him in stunned silence.
The bunny-eared boy blinked, dazed.
"…Dad?" he whispered, looking up at the man who had just beaten the soul out of him—and filled his heart with burning awe.