Ye Huan arrived like a summer storm—sudden, intense, and gone before the dust could settle. He lingered in Anping Town for barely half a day before vanishing back into the horizon.
Brief as it was, his visit changed the trajectory of Xiao Ke's survival. The transaction was swift: a stockpile of Black Crystal Steel was exchanged for over four hundred thousand gold coins. For Xiao Ke, the weight of the coin pouch was the weight of salvation. With the sudden expansion of his forces—two thousand new auxiliary troops and laborers—the financial strain had been a tightening noose. Now, with the coffers replenished, the immediate threat of bankruptcy had receded, buying him that most precious of commodities: time.
But Ye Huan left behind more than just gold. He left a warning, a whisper that was quickly turning into a roar across the continent of No Man's Land.
The "Sky Curtain" was descending.
Rumors spread like wildfire that an artifact of immense power was set to emerge. In this lawless continent, "artifact" was a word that commanded blood. No one knew the specifics, but the logic of the wasteland was simple: when a treasure is born, the world screams. The more violent the atmospheric anomaly, the more god-tier the prize.
This was no minor tremor. The prediction was that No Man's Land would be plunged into perpetual night for several days. It was an anomaly so terrifyingly exaggerated that it had already drawn countless powerhouses from the Empire's civilized provinces, all swarming toward the desolate frontier like moths to a dying flame.
In the command center of Anping Town, the air was thick with indecision. Xiao Ke sat with his inner circle: Ling Feng, Ye Yun, Qin Ice, Duan Canglong, Luo Hou, and Liu Feifei. The map on the table was useless against the coming dark.
The question was binary: Do they lock the gates, turtle up, and pray the darkness passes? Or do they assemble an elite strike team to navigate the blind chaos and gamble their lives for the artifact?
Qin Ice, her expression as cool as her name, broke the silence. "I strongly advise against organizing a team to try our luck."
The statement hung in the air. Ling Feng and Ye Yun exchanged puzzled glances. To a warrior, shrinking from opportunity felt unnatural.
"Why?" Xiao Ke asked, leaning forward.
Qin Ice's eyes were dark with history. She explained that she had stumbled upon ancient records regarding the Sky Curtain. It wasn't a unique event. Centuries ago, it occurred every few hundred years. Then, the intervals were shortened to a century. Then decades. Now, only twenty years had passed since the last descent.
"Wait," Ling Feng interrupted, his eyes wide. "Colonel Qin, are you saying this phenomenon is accelerating?"
"Precisely," Qin Ice nodded. "And the frequency suggests something disturbing. Many scholars speculate that the Sky Curtain isn't a herald of treasure at all. If it were a treasure, how could it appear repeatedly without ever being claimed? In all of recorded history, I have never heard of a single soul retrieving a supreme artifact from within the darkness."
The room fell silent, the allure of the treasure dimming slightly.
Ling Feng, however, wasn't ready to let go. He was a man driven by a chip on his shoulder the size of the Empire itself. "But look at the influx of people," he argued, gesturing vaguely toward the city walls. "Strong fighters are pouring in. If there's no treasure, why are they here?"
"They are here," Qin Ice countered, "because they are young, or stubborn, or desperate." She looked around the table. "Have you noticed the anomaly in the demographics?"
Xiao Ke frowned. "What anomaly?"
"The quantity is high, but the quality is... lacking," Qin Ice observed. "The heavy hitters are absent. The patriarchs of the Five Great Aristocratic Families? The Imperial royalty? The Cabinet's enforcers? The supreme warriors of the High Noble Clans? None of them has mobilized. The only ones arriving are the young upstarts looking to make a name for themselves."
Xiao Ke and Ye Yun exchanged a look of realization. It was a glaring omission. In a world governed by power, the absence of the apex predators usually meant the prey was poisoned.
"I suspect," Qin Ice concluded, "that the true masters know the truth: under the Sky Curtain, there is no prize, only death."
Ye Yun, usually the quietest of the brothers, cleared his throat. "I recall a text I read years ago. It didn't mention treasure, but it described the environment. It said that under the Sky Curtain, the equilibrium of the world shatters. Humans, beasts, zombies—all are consumed by a hyper-aggressive bloodlust. The desire to kill becomes a physical need."
He paused, letting the horror of that sink in, then added the killing blow. "But that's not the worst part. The text mentioned a phenomenon called the 'Mirror Clone.'"
"The what?" Xiao Ke asked, blinking.
"A simulacrum," Ye Yun explained, his voice grim. "If you walk through the darkness of the Sky Curtain, the environment generates a duplicate of you. It looks like you, moves like you, and possesses an Origin Power signature identical to yours. But it is a hollow mockery, driven by a singular purpose: to hunt down and kill the original."
A cold chill swept through the room.
"That explains the absence of the Grand Marshals," Ye Yun continued. "Imagine being a supreme powerhouse. Who is the only person capable of killing you? Yourself. No one wants to face an assassin with their exact power level."
Ling Feng looked skeptical, drumming his fingers on the table. "So, if the Sky Curtain falls, the world is just flooded with evil twins? How does anyone survive?"
"Light," Liu Feifei interjected softly. "The clones are creatures of absolute darkness. They manifest in the wilderness. If we stay in the city, light every torch, burn every lamp, and banish the shadows, the clones cannot form. That is why the smart ones hide."
Ling Feng slumped back, clearly dissatisfied. "So we just sit here? Ye Huan is our age, and he traveled thousands of miles for this. Big Brother," he looked at Xiao Ke, pleading, "are we really going to cower behind walls for days?"
Xiao Ke looked at his sworn brother. He knew Ling Feng's heart. Born a concubine's son in a High Noble Clan, Ling Feng had spent his life fighting for scraps of respect. He worked twice as hard to get half as far. To him, caution looked like weakness, and a missed opportunity felt like a confirmation of his lower status.
"Third Brother," Xiao Ke said, his voice gentle but firm. "Caution is the parent of safety. We are new here. We have enemies on all sides—' Guns & Roses', the 'Double Eagle Merchant Alliance'. If we wander out into a magical darkness that turns men into murderers, we are handing our heads to them. We stay."
Ling Feng opened his mouth to argue, saw the steel in Xiao Ke's eyes, and closed it. "Yes, Big Brother. We stay."
Xiao Ke turned to the Mayor. "Feifei, post the notices. Two days from now, when the sky goes dark, Anping Town enters martial law. I want this city blazing like a supernova. Soldiers on every corner. Shoot to kill for curfew violators. We will not let the darkness in."
Two days later, the sun refused to rise.
The morning light was a sickly, bruised purple, resembling the final moments of twilight. Heavy, suffocating clouds pressed down on the earth, erasing the horizon. By noon, the world had been swallowed. Visibility dropped to five meters. A thick, inky fog began to roll through the streets, carrying with it the metallic tang of ozone and fear.
Anping Town became a beacon in the void. Every lantern was lit, every fire stoked. The citizens huddled in their basements while soldiers patrolled the perimeter, their knuckles white on their rifles.
Xiao Ke spent the lockdown in the isolation of the training room, channeling his focus into the Tiger Ben Art.
The cultivation technique was grueling. He was tempering his bones, transforming them into vessels of immense power. He had already "illuminated" seventeen of the twenty-five bones in his rib cage. Combined with his spinal column, his skeletal structure was becoming a biological hydraulic press. His punching force had skyrocketed to 7,000 jin—roughly 3,500 kilograms of raw, kinetic violence.
However, his internal energy—his Origin Power—lagged, sitting at a respectable but comparatively modest 4,500 Cahels.
Exhaling a plume of white mist, Xiao Ke wiped the sweat from his brow. "Eight more ribs," he muttered to himself. "Eight more days and the torso is complete. Even a Level 8 Brave General won't be able to shrug off a hit from me then."
He stepped out of the training hall, feeling the strange pressure of the atmosphere, only to find Ye Yun sprinting toward him, his face pale.
"Big Brother," Ye Yun gasped. "Trouble. It's Ling Feng. He's gone."
Xiao Ke's stomach dropped. "What?"
Ye Yun thrust a crumpled piece of paper into his hand. The handwriting was hasty, arrogant, and unmistakably Ling Feng's.
Big Brother, Third Brother. I can't do it. I can't sit here like a turtle in a shell while destiny waits outside. I'm going to change my fate. Don't worry about me. I'll be back in a few days with the artifact, and we'll drink to my victory. Trust me.
"That idiot," Xiao Ke growled, crumpling the note. "He's let his insecurity drive him mad. The world outside is a slaughterhouse right now."
"I'm going after him," Ye Yun said, reaching for his weapon. "I'll take a squad."
"No!" Xiao Ke barked. "You remember the lore. The wilderness generates Mirror Clones. They match your Origin Power. You go out there, you face an exact copy of yourself. It's a coin flip whether you survive."
"We can't just leave him to die!"
"We won't," Xiao Ke said, his voice dropping to a calm, commanding register. "I will go."
"You?" Ye Yun stared at him. "Big Brother, with all respect, your Origin Power is lower than mine. You're the Grand Commander. You can't risk it."
"That is exactly why I have to go," Xiao Ke reasoned. "Listen to me. The Mirror Clones replicate Origin Power. If I go out, my clone will have the energy of a Level 6 Warlord. But..." Xiao Ke clenched his fist, the knuckles cracking. "My combat style doesn't rely on Origin Power. It relies on pure physical strength. The clone mimics magic, not muscle. It will have my energy, but it won't have my 7,000 jin punch. It will be a glass cannon. I can break it."
Ye Yun opened his mouth, but the logic was sound. It was a loophole in the magic system, and Xiao Ke was the only one who fit through it.
"Hold the fort," Xiao Ke ordered, turning toward the garage. "I'm bringing him back."
The armored jeep tore out of the city gates, its headlights cutting a fragile cone of light into the suffocating gloom.
Xiao Ke drove north. The south led to the Thousand Needle Stone Forest and the borders of civilization—too safe for a man looking to prove himself. Ling Feng would have headed north, deeper into the abyss of No Man's Land.
The atmosphere was oppressive, a physical weight against the windshield. Xiao Ke glanced upward and nearly drove off the road.
There was no sun, but there were moons. Two of them.
They hung in the sky like weeping sores—twin crimson eyes staring down with malevolent intent. The Blood Moons.
In the old folklore, a red moon meant war. Green for hunger, Red for strife. But two? That was an omen beyond catastrophe. As Xiao Ke stared at them, he felt a sudden, irrational spike of rage—a desire to stop the car and scream, to break something, to tear flesh.
He tore his eyes away, breathing hard. Psychological contamination, he realized. Do not look up.
He pressed on, the engine roaring against the silence. Suddenly, movement ahead forced him to slam on the brakes.
In the headlight beams, nature had gone mad. A scrawny wild dog was locked in combat with a wilderness lion. In any sane world, the dog would have fled from the scent alone. Tonight, the dog's eyes were glowing red. It was a mangle of torn fur and exposed bone, yet it threw itself at the apex predator with suicidal fury, growling with a sound that was more demon than canine.
The lion, equally crazed, swiped a massive paw, crushing the dog's spine. It bit through the neck, ending the fight, but the violence didn't satiate it. It tore the carcass apart in a frenzy, then snapped its head up, locking eyes with Xiao Ke as he stepped out of the vehicle.
The lion didn't hesitate. It abandoned its kill and charged, moving with a supernatural speed fueled by the Blood Moons.
Xiao Ke didn't flinch. He reached for "General," the heavy saber strapped to his waist. He didn't use fancy techniques. He didn't flare his Origin Power. He simply engaged his hips, pivoted, and swung with the force of a falling building.
The blade met the lion mid-air. There was a wet, tearing sound, like a zipper being undone. The lion was bisected cleanly, its momentum carrying the two halves past Xiao Ke to land with a wet thud on the asphalt.
"Madness," Xiao Ke whispered, flicking the blood from his blade.
He turned to get back in the jeep, but a flicker of movement in the periphery froze him. Someone was watching.
Xiao Ke turned slowly, leveling the tip of his saber at the darkness of the roadside ditch. "Since you've come, show yourself. Lurking in the shadows on a night like this is a good way to get killed by mistake."
A figure stepped into the pale wash of the headlights.
Xiao Ke's breath hitched.
The man was tall, lean, and wore the distinct uniform of the Steel Wheel Grand Commander. At his waist hung "General." His face was Xiao Ke's face.
But it was wrong. The skin was the color of old parchment. The eyes were rimmed with red, and the pupils were dull, lacking the spark of consciousness. It was like looking at a wax figure that had been animated by a dark spirit.
A Mirror Clone.
The creature tilted its head, its jaw working stiffly. "Kill you..." it rasped, the voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on stone. "Plunder... Origin Power... for the Master."
Xiao Ke narrowed his eyes. "Master? Who is your master? Are you a construct of Song Jiongyang? Or Qiao Zhennan?"
The clone didn't process the interrogation. It simply rebooted its command loop. "Kill you!"
It drew its saber. The blade hummed with a violet aura—Origin Power. It was strong, matching Xiao Ke's own energy signature perfectly.
The clone surged forward, a blur of speed.
Xiao Ke stood his ground. He stepped into the attack, bringing his blade up in a hard block.
CLANG.
The impact created a shockwave that kicked up dust. Xiao Ke felt a vibration travel up his arm—Origin Power, about 4,500 Cahels. Exactly as predicted. The energy was stinging, potent.
But the weight behind the blow? It was light. It felt like fighting a child wielding a sledgehammer.
Xiao Ke grinned. You have my magic, but you don't have my bones.
The clone had copied the software but failed to download the hardware.
Xiao Ke didn't give it a second chance. He exploded into motion, unleashing a storm of strikes. The clone tried to parry with energy-infused blocks, but Xiao Ke's physical strength battered through its defenses. It was like a wooden fence trying to stop a runaway train.
With a roar, Xiao Ke shattered the clone's guard and drove his saber through its chest.
The clone didn't bleed. It convulsed, its form destabilizing like a glitching video feed. Its edges blurred, turning into gray ash that scattered on the wind, leaving nothing behind but the night.
Xiao Ke sheathed his blade, frowning at the empty air. "Curious," he murmured. "And disturbing."
Miles away, at the mouth of Death Valley, the air ripped open.
A massive black vortex swirled, a wound in reality itself. From the depths of the abyss, a voice echoed—ancient, raspy, and hungry.
"Under the red gaze, my soul sleeps... My will is the canvas of this sky... Go, my children. Slaughter the flesh. Harvest the Origin. Bring it to the void... I shall rise again."