The Invisible Ghost Summoner

PART 1: THE SUDDEN HUMAN ATTACK

15 YEARS AGO,

The cold moon hung high over the battlefield, casting a pale, lifeless glow on the chaos below. The Black Dragon Demon King, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì, stood at the forefront of his army, his eyes glowing with malevolent power. He had never expected the humans to strike with such ferocity. His forces, though vast and terrifying, were being pushed back.

"Prepare yourselves, my demons!" He roared, his voice like thunder. "These humans dare to challenge us, but they will fall before the might of the demon race!"

His army, a terrifying mass of monstrous creatures and demon cultivators, bellowed in response, their guttural cries filling the night air. They charged forward, as if to crush the human forces beneath their feet. But the human armies, led by the united 12 Great Sects, were ready.

"We move now," Zhào Qīnglán's voice was a low hiss as he addressed the sect leaders, his eyes gleaming with calculated coldness. "Strike swiftly, and we will end this before it begins."

The sect leaders nodded; their expressions grim. The atmosphere was thick with bloodlust, the ground trembling under the weight of tens of thousands of soldiers. The human forces surged forward, their swords and spears gleaming in the moonlight.

The first clash was brutal. Swords met claws, spears pierced scales, and the air was filled with the stench of blood and the screams of the dying. The demons fought with savage fury, but the humans were relentless, attacking with precision, as if they had rehearsed this moment for years.

"Cut them down!" shouted Xue Sha, the leader of the Heavenly Sect, his blade cleaving through the flesh of a hulking demon. "For the future of humanity!"

The human lines advanced, pushing back the demons. But even as they made progress, the air shifted. A powerful force began to gather at the rear of the demon army.

"Be ready," Zhào Qīnglán muttered, sensing the impending danger. "The Black Dragon Demon King will not fall so easily."

And he was right.

With a roar that shook the heavens, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì unleashed his full power. A wave of black energy erupted from his body, crashing into the human ranks. The ground cracked open as the force of his attack left deep gashes in the earth.

"Retreat!" Yán Jiàoyáng ordered, his voice filled with urgency. "Fall back! Fall back!"

But it was too late. The demons had regrouped, their ferocity redoubled. For every demon that fell, two more seemed to rise. The humans, though powerful, were caught in a crushing vice, unable to hold their ground.

"We need to break him," Zhào Qīnglán said coldly, his hand tightening around his sword. "If we kill him, the demons will fall. This war will end here."

A heavy silence fell over the group, punctuated only by the sounds of clashing steel and the cries of the wounded. Then, Xue Sha spoke, his voice grim. "If we fail, there will be no turning back. The demons will wipe us from the face of this world."

"Then we fight until there is nothing left," Zhào Qīnglán replied, his tone unwavering.

The humans pushed forward once more, but their ranks were thinning. The Black Dragon Demon King was no ordinary foe. His power was vast, beyond anything the humans had ever faced. Yet, despite the overwhelming odds, the human forces refused to break.

Suddenly, a piercing cry echoed across the battlefield. A massive explosion of dark energy erupted from the demon lines, sending humans and demons alike flying through the air. The force of it was enough to shake the very heavens.

"Fall back!" Yán Jiàoyáng shouted as he stumbled, his face pale. "We need to regroup. We've lost too many!"

But it was too late. The Black Dragon Demon King's onslaught continued, and the human forces found themselves on the verge of collapse. The demons pushed forward with unrelenting force, and the humans were forced to retreat.

As the battle raged on, the sect leaders fought desperately to hold their lines. Zhào Qīnglán's eyes never left the Black Dragon Demon King, his mind calculating every move.

"We need to break him," Zhào Qīnglán said coldly, his hand tightening around his sword. "If we kill him, the demons will fall. This war will end here."

"He's too strong," Xue Sha growled, his voice strained as he fended off a demon's attack. "This isn't a fight we can win, not like this."

"We don't need to win just yet," Zhào Qīnglán replied, his eyes narrowing. "We only need to survive long enough to make him vulnerable."

The humans fought on, but the demons were relentless. The Black Dragon Demon King's dark energy surged with every movement, and the humans were finding it harder to keep their ground. The battlefield was a blood-soaked mess of shattered bodies, broken weapons, and the screams of the dying.

Zhào Qīnglán moved like a shadow, his eyes never leaving the Black Dragon Demon King. He knew that a direct confrontation was suicide. But there had to be another way, another chance.

Suddenly, Zhào Qīnglán's sharp eyes caught sight of something—something that made his heart race. At the edges of the battlefield, a strange energy began to coalesce, a force that was neither human nor demon. He could feel it, a presence that was beyond the scope of both sides.

"What is that?" Xue Sha asked, his voice low, his gaze following Zhào Qīnglán's eyes.

"Something more dangerous than we can imagine," Zhào Qīnglán replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not the demon king. It's something else."

As the battle continued to rage, the humans were being pushed back further. Their forces were dwindling, but Zhào Qīnglán had seen enough. He knew the battle was lost—this wasn't their victory. But it was only the beginning.

The battlefield was littered with the bodies of the fallen, the air thick with the acrid scent of blood and smoke. The screams of the dying echoed in every direction. The night had become a hellish landscape, filled with the remnants of a battle that had barely begun.

"Rest now," Zhào Qīnglán whispered to himself as he turned his back on the carnage. "The real war is just beginning."

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

PART 2: THE RISE OF THE 12 DEMON TRIBE KINGS

The battlefield was soon to be chaos.

"Fall back!" Jiàn Liángyù yelled, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of the demons. The earth trembled beneath their feet as the 12 Demon Kings emerged, their overwhelming presence suffocating the air.

Huà Qīlíng, the Nine-Tail Fox Demon, flicked her tails, eyes glinting with malice. "So this is all they have?" she sneered, watching as the human forces scattered like ants before her.

Shèn Zhēngkāi, the Monkey Demon, let out a guttural laugh, his wild eyes scanning the panicking soldiers. "Pathetic!" he cried, leaping into the fray, tearing through the human ranks with savage glee.

The peacock demon Cǎi Fèihuáng's wings unfurled, bathing the battlefield in a burst of iridescent light. "So many to play with," she hummed, watching a group of soldiers try to form a line. They didn't last long.

Léi Jiàniú, the Thunder-Driven Bison Demon, stomped forward, each step crushing the earth. His laughter boomed as soldiers screamed in terror.

The human army was already on the edge of collapse. Nothing they did could hold back the tide of death. A young swordsman tried to rally his group. "Stay together!" he shouted, sword raised—but he was silenced before he could even make his next move, a demon's claw rending him in half.

Jiàn Liángyù's blade flashed. She fought with everything she had, but the weight of the battle was crushing. Her sword met the Rhino Demon's horn, sending sparks flying, but it was like fighting against a mountain. "Hold the line!" she ordered, but it was futile.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and each swing felt heavier, the blood of her comrades staining the ground. The air was thick with fear, the screams of the fallen blending with the roars of the demons. She barely caught a glimpse of the Lion Demon charging toward her, and she moved instinctively, barely dodging.

The battle was slipping away. The sect leaders fought on, but even they could feel the weight of hopelessness pressing down on them. The demons were too strong.

"Keep fighting!" shouted Jiàn Liángyù, though even she knew the words were empty. The human army was buckling. Many were already dead, their bodies torn apart by the merciless Demon Kings.

The Snake Demon, Chán Lìsī, slid through the carnage, her form a blur of deadly precision. She coiled around a group of soldiers, her venomous fangs sinking into their flesh. Their screams were cut short.

One by one, the demons picked apart the human forces, their laughter echoing through the dying battlefield. Jiàn Liángyù fought desperately, but she could feel the end coming. Her strikes were becoming slower, her movements more labored.

Behind her, a soldier stumbled, breath ragged, his eyes wide with terror. "We're going to lose," he whispered, voice cracking.

The Bison Demon swung its massive horn, sending two men flying into the air. The ground was littered with bodies. The once-proud human forces had become mere prey to the demons' insatiable hunger.

"Is this all they're capable of?" Chán Lìsī taunted, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched the humans falter.

Jiàn Liángyù's sword clashed with the Demon Kings' forces, but the weight of reality was too much. She couldn't save them all. She couldn't even save herself.

"Fall back!" she called again, but there was nowhere to run. The demons were everywhere.

In the distance, she saw Zhào Qīnglán, her face etched with determination, but even he couldn't stem the tide. The six sect leaders, standing with their backs to each other, were all that remained—each of them struggling, barely standing. But even their combined strength was fading.

"Keep fighting!" Jiàn Liángyù's voice cracked. Her body screamed for rest, but the battle wouldn't stop. The demons weren't stopping.

The battlefield was drenched in blood. The air was thick with smoke and cries of pain. The cries of the fallen were like a symphony to the Demon Kings, who reveled in the destruction.

And still, Jiàn Liángyù fought. She fought until her sword could no longer hold the weight of the battle. Until she could no longer ignore the truth: they were losing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------PART 3: A SUDDEN TURNOVER, HIDDEN FORCE

The triumphant roars of the demon armies echoed across the battlefield as they celebrated their recent victories. Their morale was high, and their loyalty to the 12 Demon Generals was unwavering. But the eerie calm of the night was soon shattered by a sudden wave of inexplicable behavior among the lower-ranked demons.

At first, it was subtle. A demon soldier paused mid-celebration, its eyes darting erratically as though it were following something unseen. Another froze, trembling, then began swiping at the air with its claws, growling in frustration. Within moments, chaos erupted.

All across the battlefield, low and mid-ranking demons started acting strangely. Some clawed at their own bodies as though trying to rid themselves of something invisible. Others began spinning in circles, howling, or colliding with one another in confusion.

"What is the meaning of this?!" roared Huáng Shīyáng, the Lion General, his golden mane bristling with irritation as he watched the disorder spread like wildfire.

The 12 Demon Generals quickly stepped in, demanding answers from their troops. Fēng Chénhǔ, the Crocodile General, snapped his powerful jaws and barked orders, but his men were too disoriented to respond. Cǎi Fèihuáng, the proud Peacock General, spread his vibrant feathers in a display of authority, but his soldiers only cowered and whimpered.

"This is disgraceful!" hissed Chán Lìsī, the Snake General, her voice dripping with venom. She slithered through the ranks, striking at those who stumbled or fell, but even her piercing bites elicited no reaction.

The generals exchanged uneasy glances. Something was terribly wrong. This was no ordinary disobedience or fear—it was as if the soldiers were trapped in a shared nightmare.

Even the mid-ranked demons, usually more disciplined and resilient, began succumbing to the same bizarre behavior. Their eyes glazed over, their movements became erratic, and their once-coordinated ranks dissolved into chaos.

From a distance, the human armies watched in stunned silence. The once-formidable demon forces were now a disorganized mob, their power seemingly crumbling before their eyes.

"Stay alert," muttered one human soldier to his comrade, gripping his weapon tightly. "This feels like a trap."

But it was no trap. The mystery of the demons' behavior would soon deepen, pulling even their strongest leaders into the spiraling madness.

Suddenly, The Lion General, Huáng Shīyáng, roared in frustration as chaos erupted among the Demon Generals. He stomped across the battlefield, his golden mane bristling. "What is this madness? Stand down, all of you! Lord, what is happening to them?" His voice trembled slightly as he turned towards the Black Dragon Demon King, whose expression darkened.

The Spider Demon General, Sī Jiāozhū, shrieked as her webs flew uncontrollably, tangling not just her soldiers but herself as well. Her eight legs flailed wildly as she tried to free herself, shouting, "Get off me, you useless fools!" Her venomous glare fell on a nearby demon who had been immobilized by her threads. "Move, or I'll eat you myself!" she snapped, her frustration mounting as her silky traps ensnared her own movements.

The Crocodile General, Fēng Chénhǔ, growled, his massive jaws snapping at thin air. His tail whipped around in wide arcs, knocking over soldiers like bowling pins. "Get back! They're everywhere!" he bellowed, his sharp teeth clamping shut as if trying to bite an invisible enemy hovering above him. His eyes darted wildly, reflecting terror he couldn't comprehend.

The Buffalo General, Mò Tuó Niúwáng, snorted furiously, lowering his head as though charging into battle. "Out of my way!" he roared, his hooves digging into the ground. Without warning, he barreled through a crowd of demons, trampling several underfoot. Yet there was no enemy ahead—only his paranoia driving him into a frenzy.

The Snake Demon General, Chán Lìsī, let out a furious hiss as she coiled her body defensively. Her venom dripped from her fangs, sizzling as it hit the ground. "Show yourself, coward!" she spat, her voice trembling with anger and fear. She lashed out blindly, her tail whipping through the air, striking down a nearby demon who yelped in pain.

Meanwhile, the Peacock General, Cǎi Fèihuáng, shrieked in horror. "My feathers! They're pulling out my feathers!" he cried, clutching at his wings as though trying to protect them from invisible hands. His once-proud plumage lay scattered around him, leaving him disheveled and humiliated. He stumbled backward, collapsing onto the ground, his pride shattered.

The Rhino General, Mò Tiějué, snorted loudly, his thick skin glistening as he prepared to charge. "Enough of this!" he bellowed, his heavy feet stamping in frustration. He turned his horned head toward the Spider General, who was still tangled in her own web. "You're making it worse!" he growled, charging at her in a fit of rage. Sī Jiāozhū screamed as she narrowly dodged his attack, her webbing torn apart in the process.

High above, the Condor General, Jiàn Tiāoyù, circled in the sky, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. Yet his focus seemed misplaced—his dives and swoops targeted fallen demons, scavenging as though hunting for food among the dead. His piercing cry echoed through the air, but it brought no strategy or leadership to the fray. He had completely lost sight of the human battle below.

The Monkey General, Shèn Zhēngkāi, screeched in panic, leaping from one spot to another with frantic energy. "Get them off! Get them off!" he howled, flailing his arms wildly. His powerful fists struck demons left and right, knocking out his own soldiers in his desperate attempt to escape whatever unseen force haunted him.

Amid the chaos, the Black Dragon Demon King, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì, stood tall, his crimson eyes narrowing as he observed the madness. His voice boomed across the battlefield. "Enough!" he commanded, but his generals failed to heed his words, consumed by their hallucinations. His clawed hand clenched into a fist as he turned to Huáng Shīyáng. "This... is no ordinary attack," he growled. "Something is feeding on their minds."

Huáng Shīyáng's golden eyes flickered with uncertainty. "What should we do, Lord?" he asked, his voice low and reverent.

The Black Dragon's gaze hardened. "We endure," he said, though the weight of his own words seemed to drag him down. For even he could feel the pull of the unseen force, creeping ever closer.

However, then, they also got the attack...

Huáng Shīyáng, the Lion General, stood firm amidst the chaos, his sharp gaze scanning the battlefield. But then his vision began to waver, colors distorting and shapes morphing into a fiery ring. He growled in confusion as the flames encircled him, leaping higher and higher, closing in on him like a lion trapped in a circus act.

"No! This isn't real!" he roared, his voice tinged with desperation. Yet his body betrayed him, compelled to leap through the imagined hoops of fire. Each jump felt heavier, his powerful legs trembling as unseen creatures latched onto him, their fangs piercing his flesh. His blood drained in steady streams, the vitality in his limbs fading.

His once-mighty form collapsed to the ground, his golden mane dulled and streaked with sweat and blood. Huáng Shīyáng's eyes glazed over, lost in the hallucination, as he remained trapped in a nightmarish trance.

In the heart of the battlefield, the Demon King, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì, sensed a shift in the air. His crimson eyes narrowed as he scanned for the source of the disturbance. But then, the world softened around him.

"Lord…" a soft, familiar voice called.

He turned sharply and froze. Before him stood his wife, her gentle smile radiating warmth, and beside her, their children, laughing and reaching out to him.

"Honey! My son, daughter…" he whispered, his towering form trembling as raw emotion overwhelmed him.

He stepped forward, his mighty hands reaching to embrace them, but his legs buckled. The unseen creatures had struck, their translucent forms latching onto his scales, siphoning his blood. The warmth of the vision faded as cold reality returned.

"No… not now," he growled, shaking his head violently. With sheer willpower, he shattered the illusion, his form swaying as he regained clarity.

As his vision cleared, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì's heart sank.

The 12 generals—his elite, his pride—were faltering. Huáng Shīyáng lay unmoving, his once-commanding roars reduced to weak, incoherent growls. Nearby, Chán Lìsī's legs twitched feebly as she lay entangled in her web. Jiàn Tiāoyù circled sluggishly, his wings dragging against the dirt before he collapsed in a heap.

Some generals were already sprawled motionless, their bodies trembling as their blood continued to seep away. Even the strongest among them could barely lift a weapon or speak coherently.

Hēi Lóng Tiāndì clenched his fists, but his strength betrayed him. His knees buckled as he sank to the ground, his voice hoarse yet filled with defiance.

"This… is not how it ends," he murmured, his gaze hardening despite the weakness consuming his body. But even he could not deny the vulnerability that now gripped him and his once-mighty army.

MEANWHILE, in the human's side.

The soldiers, once brimming with confidence, were now paralyzed by a creeping dread. Something unnatural was in the air—an oppressive force that they couldn't see, only feel.

"Did you see that?" A soldier's voice trembled as his eyes darted nervously around. He had glimpsed something flitting through the air, just a shadow, too quick to be grasped, too odd to ignore.

"Something's... off," another muttered, clutching his spear tighter. "It's like the air itself is moving around them."

The figures of the demons—those terrifying beings of power—were now sluggish, their once imposing forms sagging, as if all vitality had been drawn out of them. Their eyes lacked focus, their limbs dragging as if weighed down by an invisible force.

Yán Jiàoyáng was the first to break the silence. His face was tense, his fingers moving in intricate motions as he whispered under his breath. His mantra, an ancient incantation, was not meant for combat, but for sight. He closed his eyes, muttering the words that would sharpen his perception beyond the physical realm.

The shadows around the demons began to reveal themselves, not as tangible creatures, but as... something else. Yán Jiàoyáng's breath caught in his throat as he saw the truth.

"They're not being attacked," he said, his voice cold and distant as he opened his eyes, the mantra still lingering in the air around him. "They're being... drained."

He turned to face the others, his gaze intense. "These shadows—black, white, red—they're feeding from them. But not physically. It's as if they're siphoning their essence, their strength. The demons are... weakened, not by violence, but by... exposure."

"What do you mean, 'feeding'?" Zhào Qīnglán asked, confusion written all over his face.

Yán Jiàoyáng nodded toward the demons, their movements slow and disoriented. "They're being touched, but not in a way that causes harm directly. These shadows, they're... teasing them. They move around, touch them, encircle them, but there's no physical contact. It's like they're playing with their minds. The demons don't even realize it."

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, still unable to fully comprehend what was happening. One muttered, "Are we supposed to fight these... things?"

The air was thick with an unfamiliar fear—something unnatural was at play, and the soldiers had never seen anything like it. No one dared to make a move, unsure if these shadows were threats or mere illusions.

Yán Jiàoyáng's eyes narrowed, his voice steady. "It's not an attack in the way we know it. But they're draining the demons' strength, piece by piece. If we wait, they'll be too weak to fight. But for now, we must keep our distance."

"But what if they turn on us?" Zhào Qīnglán's voice was tight, a deep unease gnawing at him. The demons were already weakened, but what if these shadows—whatever they were—weren't finished yet?

"They're not interested in us," Yán Jiàoyáng said, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "At least, not yet. They're focused on the demons. We can use this. But we must be patient. We can't rush in blindly."

The soldiers stood still, their bodies tense with fear, their eyes darting nervously to the shadows that flitted around the demons. No one spoke for a moment, the eerie silence broken only by the occasional whispering wind. The air seemed heavy, charged with something far more dangerous than they had anticipated. 

In the distance, the shadows moved, their forms shifting unpredictably, as though playing a silent game with the demons. And all the humans could do was wait, unsure whether they were witnessing the beginning of their salvation or the prelude to their own destruction.

As the eerie shadows continued to dance around the demons, draining their energy and feeding on their confusion, Yán Jiàoyáng's mind raced with the implications of what he had observed. His mantra had allowed him to see beyond the physical realm, and what he saw made his stomach churn. The demons, now weak and hallucinating, were at the mercy of these unseen forces. They staggered, disoriented, their movements sluggish and erratic.

"They're not going to last much longer," Yán Jiàoyáng said, his voice low but steady. "These shadows—whatever they are—are draining them. They're hallucinating, exhausted... They can't fight like this."

He turned to the commanders, his eyes sharp. "We wait. The longer we do, the more they will be weakened. If we strike now, we risk losing soldiers. But if we give them time, they'll be ripe for capture. We can take them without a single casualty."

The soldiers around him murmured in agreement, sensing the truth in his words. The demons were in no state to defend themselves. They were falling apart—physically drained, mentally shattered.

But not everyone was convinced. Zhào Qīnglán, the leader of the Sect of Celestial Summoners, stepped forward, his posture rigid with purpose. He had been watching the demons, his brow furrowed in thought.

"We've already waited long enough," he said, his voice clear and unwavering. "They are vulnerable, yes. But that's exactly why we need to strike now. We've seen what they're capable of. This could be our only chance to eliminate them without risking a full-scale battle."

His eyes swept across the gathered commanders. "We can't afford to be passive. These creatures may be draining the demons, but who's to say they won't turn their attention to us next? We have to act before they recover, before they get stronger."

Yán Jiàoyáng's gaze met Zhào Qīnglán's, a moment of tension hanging in the air. "You're right about one thing—their situation is precarious," he said slowly. "But rushing in now could be disastrous. We have to play this carefully, wait for them to be completely drained. The longer we wait, the easier it will be to capture them without a single casualty."

Zhào Qīnglán didn't answer immediately. He was clearly torn, but the fire in his eyes showed his determination. "I disagree," he said, his voice firm. "We take advantage of their weakness now, or we risk losing this opportunity forever." 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------PART 4: THE CLAIMED VICTORY

Zhào Qīnglán's gaze hardened as he watched the demons falter, their once formidable strength reduced to mere shadows of their former selves. He turned to his commanders, his voice ringing out with authority.

"Now!" he ordered. "Attack! Show them no mercy."

At his command, the human forces surged forward, weapons raised, hearts filled with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. The demons, already weakened by the unseen forces, were unable to defend themselves. Soldiers hacked through the ranks of fallen demons, cutting down those too slow or disoriented to react. The ground was littered with their bodies—some still twitching, others lifeless.

Swords flashed, arrows flew, and the human army pressed on, slaughtering those demons who were too weak to even rise. The demons' confusion, combined with their lack of strength, led to more chaos, their lines shattering under the onslaught. It was a massacre, yet the humans felt no glory in it—only the cold satisfaction of a battle near its end.

Zhào Qīnglán stood at the center of the battlefield, his eyes gleaming with fierce determination. His robes, once pristine, were now stained with blood and soot, but he stood tall, his presence commanding every gaze. Around him, the remnants of the human army rallied, emboldened by his unwavering confidence.

"Zhào Qīnglán!" shouted Líng Lónghuá, the Azure Spear Sect Leader, as she approached, her spear glinting under the fading sunlight. "Your reckless actions risk all our lives! Do you not see the larger picture?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "Larger picture? Líng, the larger picture is humanity's survival. If you lack the courage to strike when the enemy is weak, then step aside and watch me end this war."

Behind her, Wén Jiàn, the Iron Fist Sect Leader, crossed his arms. "Zhào, you cannot act alone. The sect leaders stand as one, and we demand unity in decisions. Summoning your beast without council approval is unacceptable."

Zhào Qīnglán raised his hand dismissively, ignoring the murmurs of dissent from the 11 sect leaders gathered behind him. "Unity is what holds you back. What we need now is decisive action, not endless debates."

"Decisive action?" roared Pǎo Tiānhuá, slamming his twin swords into the ground. "Your arrogance knows no bounds! Summon your beast, and you'll risk the wrath of the demon king himself!"

Zhào Qīnglán turned slowly, his eyes narrowing at Tiānhuá. "Wrath? Let him come. It's time we showed the demons that humanity is no longer their prey." He raised his hands, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Furious Tiger, arise!"

The ground beneath them trembled violently, cracks spreading as the summoning circle glowed a brilliant orange. A deafening roar pierced the chaos, and from the light emerged a massive tiger, its fur ablaze with fiery streaks, its eyes burning with unyielding rage. The beast's presence silenced both armies momentarily, the sheer intensity of its aura forcing weaker men to their knees.

The tiger snarled, its massive paws digging into the earth as it assessed the battlefield. Zhào Qīnglán stepped forward, placing a hand on the beast's side. "Furious Tiger, you know your task. Leave no demon standing."

With a roar, the tiger leaped into action, a blur of flame and fury tearing through the demon ranks. Screams filled the air as claws raked through flesh, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The humans watched in awe as the beast decimated the enemy lines, seemingly unstoppable.

As the slaughter continued, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì, his strength nearly spent, struggled to stay upright. His mind was foggy, and his vision blurred. He could hear the distant sounds of his generals' fall as they succumbed to the relentless assault. His body felt like it was made of lead, his blood drained by the unseen forces.

With one last, desperate cry, he channeled all his remaining strength into the twelve generals.

"Awakened ! You must... lead them... retreat!" His voice was ragged, barely a whisper, but the command was clear.

The twelve demon generals, slowly regaining their senses, staggered to their feet. They exchanged looks of confusion and fear, their once-mighty power now reduced to shadows of what it had been.

"We retreat," Hēi Lóng Tiāndì said softly, his voice thick with exhaustion. "It's over."

But even as the generals began to gather their forces, Hēi Lóng Tiāndì collapsed to his knees. His body was failing him, and Huáng Shīyáng, still struggling to maintain control over his own body, rushed to support the Demon King.

"Get up! We need to leave... quickly!" Huáng Shīyáng growled, his own strength fading as he helped the Black Dragon Demon King to his feet.

Hēi Lóng Tiāndì's eyes flickered, his once indomitable spirit now a dim ember. "I can't... I can't..."

Before they could move, Zhào Qīnglán and his tiger appeared before them, blocking their path. The tiger snarled, flames licking at its jaws as it crouched, ready to strike. Zhào Qīnglán's smile was cold and victorious. "And where do you think you're going, demon king? The battlefield is no place for cowards."

Huáng Shīyáng stepped forward, shielding his king. "You've gone too far, human," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Using a beast like this... you're no better than the monsters you claim to fight."

The tiger growled, its eyes locking onto Huáng. It recognized him, and for a moment, hesitation flickered in its gaze. Huáng saw it and seized the moment. "You," he said, pointing at the tiger. "Traitor! How dare you turn against your kind? Against the balance we are sworn to protect?"

Zhào Qīnglán laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. "Balance? Don't make me laugh. Beasts exist to serve humanity. This tiger understands its purpose. Perhaps it's you, Huáng Shīyáng, who needs a lesson in loyalty."

Huáng clenched his fists, his body trembling with rage. "Loyalty? You dare speak of loyalty while enslaving a creature of such majesty? You humans are nothing but parasites, feeding on what you do not understand."

The tiger roared, silencing him. Zhào Qīnglán stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Enough of your self-righteous drivel, Huáng. This beast serves a greater purpose now—one that will ensure humanity's dominance over all."

Huáng lunged at him, his claws unsheathing in a blur of gold. The tiger intercepted, swiping at him with a massive paw. Huáng blocked, but the force sent him skidding back, his feet carving trenches into the earth.

 "Your Majesty, go!" Huáng shouted, his voice strained. "I'll hold them off."

Hēi Lóng Tiāndì hesitated, his gaze heavy with sorrow. "Huáng..."

"Go!" Huáng roared, his golden eyes blazing with determination. "Your survival is all that matters now!"

The demon king nodded reluctantly, retreating with the remaining generals. The tiger roared in frustration, attempting to give chase, but Zhào Qīnglán raised a hand, stopping it. "Let them run. They'll spread the tale of today's defeat, and the world will know that Zhào Qīnglán is the true hero of humanity."

Huáng collapsed to his knees, his strength waning.

Blood dripped from Huáng Shīyáng's mouth as he spat at the ground, his voice hoarse but defiant. "Even beasts deserve loyalty. You've twisted it into a monster, enslaved by your kind."

The tiger growled low, its massive body looming over the wounded demon. Yet, there was a flicker of hesitation in its eyes—a fleeting moment of conflict that Huáng Shīyáng seized upon.

"You were once free," he whispered, his voice softening as if speaking directly to the tiger's soul. "Do you not remember?"

Zhào Qīnglán's laughter cut through the moment like a blade. "Enough of your pitiful words!" He gestured sharply, commanding the tiger to strike.

But before the beast could deliver the final blow, Huáng Shīyáng's comrades—the remaining demon generals—descended in a coordinated effort. Their combined strength created a barrier of energy that shielded Huáng Shīyáng.

"Retreat!" one of the 12 generals barked, his voice echoing with urgency.

Huáng Shīyáng hesitated, his gaze shifting between the tiger and Zhào Qīnglán. But the generals' firm grips dragged him back, their retreating forms disappearing into the shadows.

Zhào Qīnglán didn't pursue. Instead, he stood tall, his expression a mixture of triumph and disdain. "Run, cowards," he muttered, loud enough for the human forces to hear. "The victory is ours!"

As the demon forces retreated in disarray, Zhào Qīnglán stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion. He surveyed the battlefield, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. The demons were broken, their leaders defeated. The human army had won—for now.

"I am the hero of this battle," Zhào Qīnglán declared, his voice rising above the chaos of retreating demons. "The demons' disorientation and weakness? It was all part of my plan. My secret summon beast... the one who caused all of this. It was my power that brought them down."

The soldiers roared their approval, but not everyone shared their enthusiasm. From the back of the gathering, a strong, clear voice cut through the jubilation.

"Hero? Is that what you call yourself?" Yán Jiàoyáng stepped forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Zhào Qīnglán. His crimson robes, embroidered with flames, swayed lightly in the breeze as he approached. "You claim this victory as your own, yet you ignore the unseen forces that aided us in this battle."

Zhào Qīnglán's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. "Unseen forces? Are you telling me that the demons were defeated by shadows?" His tone dripped with mockery.

The crowd stirred uneasily as five figures emerged behind Yán Jiàoyáng. Jiàn Liángyù, her sword glinting under the fading light, stood with a quiet yet undeniable authority. Quán Zhàotāo loomed nearby, cracking his knuckles with a deliberate show of strength. Tí Lìhéng kept his stance casual but calculated, his sharp eyes watching every movement. Zhì Jiànchéng exuded calm as he crossed his arms, while Hù Yùxiáng, the radiant shield on her back catching the light, regarded Zhào Qīnglán's tiger with open skepticism.

Yán Jiàoyáng's voice broke the tension. "Your tiger may be strong, brother Zhào, but its power doesn't explain what we witnessed today. The hallucinations, the confusion among the demons—that wasn't your doing."

Jiàn Liángyù stepped forward, her voice clear and measured. "He's right. There were forces at play here—forces we do not fully understand."

Tí Lìhéng nodded. "That chaos wasn't natural. Something—or someone—helped us."

Zhào Qīnglán scoffed, dismissing their concerns with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense. It was the skill of my tiger, nothing more."

Quán Zhàotāo raised an eyebrow, his tone incredulous. "Your tiger? What skill could a merely tiger possibly have to cause hallucinations and confusion on such a scale? It's absurd."

Yán Jiàoyáng smirked, his words cutting deep. "You're the one hallucinating, brother Zhào. Or perhaps you've started to believe your own lies."

"You even hide behind that pillar with Sister Líng, old Zhào!"

The five companions chuckled, their laughter like a blade twisting in the wound. Zhào Qīnglán's supporters bristled at the insult, their faces hardening with anger.

"How dare you mocking Brother Zhào!" Líng Lónghuá shouted, stepping forward with clenched fists.

Zhào Qīnglán raised a hand, silencing his followers. His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped to a cold growl. "And what about you, Yán Jiàoyáng? What did you contribute to this battle? I saw no great acts of heroism from you or your sect."

"At least I don't take credit for what isn't mine," Yán Jiàoyáng retorted, his voice rising. "I am grateful for the unseen aid we received. That's more than I can say for you."

Zhào Qīnglán's face darkened further, his fury barely contained. Behind him, his supporters began to clamor, their voices rising in anger.

"Enough, all of you!" Zhì Jiànchéng's voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. He stepped forward, his expression stern and commanding. "This is not the time for infighting. We have wounded to tend to and a battlefield to secure."

His words had the desired effect, dampening the rising tension. The crowd began to disperse, though the divide was clear. On one side stood Zhào Qīnglán and his loyalists, their belief in his leadership unwavering. On the other side, Yán Jiàoyáng and his companions, their skepticism of Zhào Qīnglán's claims evident.

Though the battle against the demons had ended, a new rift had formed—a fracture among the humans that would not be easily healed.

----------------------------------- End of Chapter 1 ----------------------------------------