Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Central Land Northern Border, Alita Forest.

A massive rift gaped across the earth like a wound that would not heal, and the ground around the fissure had long since cracked, fissure lines spreading outward. The surrounding plants and trees had all withered.

Centered on the rift, demons were already everywhere.

Dretches clustered in heaps, tearing at one another with claws, biting flesh from rivals; imps circled in the air, waiting for chances to dive and snatch remaining limbs from the jaws of larger demons; berserker demons hammered their chests, vulture demons dove screaming into the fray, swinging talons indiscriminately.

They growled and roared, aiming cleavers or claws at those of their own kind, delighting in the pleasure of slaughtering one another.

Blood spattered onto the cracked earth, only to be absorbed away in an instant.

Huff! Huff! Huff!

A gale swept through, and winter snowflakes drifted from the sky.

White snow settled on the demons, only to melt instantly from the heat radiating off their bodies, turning into thin wisps of steam. Yet the snowfall grew heavier, and soon thin layers of white began to pile on the demons’ shoulders.

Still, that could not mask the ever-thickening Abyssal aura.

The densest concentration of aura lay directly before the rift.

A gigantic demon stood there.

Twin wings grew from his back, his entire body covered in dark, coarse chitinous armor.

That armor did not look like an external object; it seemed grown from his body, a thick, hardened keratinous layer etched with countless fine marks as if bearing traces of endless battles.

A pair of thick arms hung at his sides, ending in cold, gleaming talons.

On his head sprouted four pairs of curved special horns, starting at the brow and extending back toward the occiput, the two longest nearly reaching his shoulder blades, twisted and coiling like a crown.

His eyes were deep purple with jet-black pupils, devouring all light.

Overall, his appearance was not grotesque.

Compared to the vast majority of malformed demons, he was closer to what ordinary people imagined a demon to look like—the kind of terrifying presence found in ancient legends and bedtime stories.

And demons of this appearance often held a seat of power even in the perilous Abyss.

The Slaughter Great Demon, Abaddon.

He had once been one of the most trusted great demons under the Lord of the Flame Prison.

Countless demonic armies answered to him, his name spreading terror; where his banner flew, even the fiercest demons would crouch and tremble, casting him looks of awe.

While the lord slept, he stood above almost all demons.

For a long time, Abaddon carried out the lord’s will, ruling vast territories.

However...

The Halden Empire came.

These humans, these beings of the Material Plane, dared to assault the Abyss.

Our pioneering corps stormed the Abyss, pushing back inch by inch with steel and magic. The spell arrays built by Qin Rongyi and the others rent the Abyssal sky; the shield walls formed by the warriors crushed demon ranks like waves over bloodied mountains.

My stronghold was seized, fortresses and bastions collapsing.

His great army was slaughtered; he himself was captured, nailed to an iron frame and paraded as a spoil of war for decades.

Decades only.

For a long-lived great demon, that span was not terribly long.

He could bear this failure—after all, if an immortal of the Material Plane intervened and he, having given his all, was still outmatched, that was understandable.

If those so-called Mandate-level beings had opposed him instead of immortals...

Abaddon believed he could send them home forever.

Demons at the same echelon were stronger than most races.

But being pierced, impaled, hung high, enduring the daily gaze of the weak as they inspected and ogled—such anger and shame gnawed at his soul day by day.

Until the King awoke from slumber.

The Demon King rose.

Human immortals tried to oppose the King and were quickly shattered and fled back to the Material Plane.

After that, those humans retreated in panic, and he managed to break free.

Once off the iron rack, without magical suppression, wounds closed fast, but the humiliation left an indelible scar on his heart.

So Abaddon vowed, with sworn promises, to strike the Material Plane at the earliest opportunity, to create the conditions for the King’s descent.

But... things did not go as planned, and he was beaten back into the Abyss again.

Shame.

Truly shameful!

Consecutive failures stripped Abaddon of face.

And in the Abyss, there were not many chances to fail.

Failure meant a shaken status.

A shaken status often meant death was near.

Abaddon felt it: those demon generals who once crawled at his feet began to look at him differently after his failures. Thus he would rather degrade himself and take great risks to return to the Material Plane.

He would wash away his dishonor.

He would make those humans and the demons under them know that the name “Slaughter Great Demon” was not an idle title.

Until today.

He finally returned.

Abaddon inhaled deeply, letting the snow-laden cold air fill his lungs.

“Material Plane.”

“So this is the Material Plane.”

The demon extended an arm, letting snowflakes fall into his palm.

Tiny pale crystals briefly rested on his dark skin before melting into insignificant beads that almost instantly vaporized, leaving only a faint chill.

This was a thing absent from his Abyssal level.

Hmm... perhaps other Abyssal layers had it, but not where Abaddon had been.

“Cold, wet, fragile.”

He murmured, pausing.

“But... wonderful.”

Abaddon closed his eyes and felt his surroundings.

The wind brushing his skin, the smell of the Material Plane, the low-level demons’ hisses, and the intensifying Abyssal aura.

He could sense his strength slowly returning.

It was a subtle feeling, like parched earth drinking in moisture, like withered plants regaining life.

Abyssal essence seeped through his pores, flowing through his veins, filling each muscle, each bone, each cell.

His power was restoring.

Slowly, but steadily.

Abaddon opened his eyes and looked over the demons.

The lower demons still tore each other apart.

Chaos.

Disorder.

Madness.

This scene would freeze the blood of any Material Plane creature who misstepped here; most would break mentally at first sight.

But this was the Abyss’s normality.

Here, this was daily life; countless demons had experienced this.

Abaddon did not stop it.

This carnage was his deliberate allowance.

Demons slaughtering each other—their deaths, souls, and flesh—would be absorbed by the rift and converted into Abyssal aura.

This method of sacrifice was inefficient; it only temporarily raised local aura concentrations and could not sustain them long-term. But for Abaddon, it sufficed.

He was a great demon.

Once restored, he would not weaken with aura drops; absorbed energy stored within would not dissipate with local aura.

As for those fallen demons?

Abaddon’s light swept across the battlefield, skimming over fallen bodies and struggling survivors.

To die for him should be considered an honor.

“It’s still too slow. Let them die faster.”

Abaddon slightly lifted his head, exuding dense demonic qi.

Wherever he passed, the fighting demons attacked each other all the more savagely, as if maddened.

Time passed with the howling wind and snow.

“Are they here?”

Soon Abaddon looked skyward.

Legendary lives were approaching fast.

He sensed those presences bearing down from different directions, speeded as if racing with all their might.

“These Material Plane creatures respond quickly.”

“And... only legendaries?”

Abaddon narrowed his eyes, thinking.

This time, they were cautious, not repeating the last direct-all-out war approach.

If the Material Plane had followed the same tactic—call an army and proceed inch by inch—then by the time they arrived and sacrificed more Material Plane lives to delay him, he could have fully recovered to his prior life level.

But the other side was not foolish.

“Fine.”

A bloodthirsty gleam crossed Abaddon’s eyes.

“Then let the lives and souls of legendaries forge my great demon form!”

Yet he did not strike immediately.

It was not yet time.

“All demon generals, ready yourselves!”

He commanded.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Figures, wrapped in Abyssal aura, surged skyward to meet the incoming legendaries.

Among them, only three high-tier demon generals remained, including a six-armed serpent demon.

Last time there had been five.

The quantity and average rank of the other demon generals had fallen.

Abyssal competition was fierce, and demon generals were limited.

They did not spawn from nothing; they required time to grow and be honed in battle, devouring kin to rise in rank.

The last defeat had cost Abaddon dearly among his generals.

This was one reason he was willing to come to the Material Plane at great risk.

Unless he humbled himself before other great demons, begging for reinforcements—an admission of defeat—he could not hope to open a suitable rift channel relying only on his remaining generals.

Abaddon took a step back, his body melding with the Abyssal vapors spurting from the rift.

His figure blurred, barely there, leaving only a pair of cold eyes fixed on the sky.

The Material Plane legendaries did not yet know his state.

If they remained cautious and did not unleash their full force, he could buy time—the more seconds he gained, the more power he’d restore.

On the distant horizon, many figures closed in rapidly.

The leaders’ auras were strongest: crown-level legendaries, followed by slightly weaker but still legendary presences.

Abaddon scanned those figures.

The ones from the east bore heavy, condensed auras.

They were lithe and quick, leaving afterimages in the air; their leader’s life force peaked near Mandate, a martial monk at the limit of crown-level.

From the south came an actual mage tower.

A true mage tower, its surface etched with complex magical runes and each layer glowing, topped by a crown-level spellcaster surrounded by magic light. She stood on the tower platform, robes snapping, magical energy almost solid.

From the west came dragons.

Three blue dragons flew in a character-shaped formation through the high sky, stirring thick black clouds, thunder and lightning crackling in the storm.

Lightning flashed through the clouds and struck, leaving scorching traces in the air; winds whirled, shredding the snowflakes.

Leading them was an Ancient Blue Dragon, evidently crown-level.

His size was largest and his scales darkest; each wingbeat shifted entire cloud layers. The other two were nearly crown-level, just a hair’s breadth shy.

“Crown dragons, a spellcaster, and a martial monk approaching Mandate.”

Abaddon muttered.

“Not a bad lineup.”

His face remained calm, showing no fear.

Then Abaddon turned his gaze north.

His eyes slid past the other legendaries and fixed on that imposing black-red figure.

The Red Emperor.

King of Aola, Scarlet Emperor Cangxing, the Undying Dragon, lord of the Northern Border...

Garoth Ignas.

Abaddon recognized this dragon.

It was him.

That damned red-iron dragon who had unleashed a world-shattering strike that had turned the previous rift and fortress to dust; that hit had even inflicted injuries that drove Garoth back to the Abyss.

Through some of the scouts already infiltrated into the third layer, Abaddon knew this dragon’s names and titles.

That was all.

As a great demon, he couldn’t be bothered to learn the specifics of the other’s skills.

In his view, how strong could a Material Plane dragon really be?

Even if it could unleash such an attack, so what?

An extraordinary blow that required long preparation and limits was but a flashy trick.

In real combat, the enemy would not give you time to prepare.

Abaddon stared into the sky without moving.

He waited.

He would wait for these legendaries to engage his generals, and then he would steal every second he could to recover.

Abyssal vapor still seeped, wrapping his body.

He felt his power creep upward; though far from full strength, among high-tier demon generals Abaddon already had the confidence to sweep them aside.

A little more time, a little more recovery, and he could act.

In a blink, generals and Material Plane legendaries closed to near range.

The battle was about to ignite.

The crown-level martial monk struck first.

No hesitation. From miles out, he transformed a fist into a palm and pushed through the air.

Vast solar-soul energy surged from his body and condensed into a solid, scorching giant palm in midair, nearly a hundred meters across, palm lines visible and each finger imbued with mountain-flattening force.

The giant palm slammed toward the leading iron-mounted demon general.

Boom!

The iron-mounted demon charged with weapon raised, hooves leaving purple flames with each step. It roared and lunged at the palm, its spear thrusting out.

Spear met palm.

Shockwaves rippled outward. The iron-mounted general’s body convulsed and was blasted backward, tumbling and then regaining posture to charge again.

The battle erupted.

The six-armed serpent demon swung six arms, each holding a different weapon.

Her gaze flicked between the Crown of Magic and the Ancient Blue Dragon, then she chose and charged the Southern Domain’s Crown of Magic. All six arms moved, the weapons tracing dense arcs in the air.

Another demon general, a massive seduction demon, lunged at the western dragon group.

More ordinary generals surged.

Berserk demons pounded chests and charged roaringly; vulture demons dove from above with talons outstretched; barbed-lance demons shook their spikes and braced.

They followed behind high-tier generals, swarming into battle with the Material Plane legendaries.

Magic and lightning streaked; blade light danced with talons.

From the mage tower came flashing spells; lightning cut through blue dragon clouds; storms howled...

The demons resisted madly.

No doubt they were again firmly on the losing end.

In number and quality they could not match the Four Domains’ legendaries.

But demons fought with utter ferocity.

Many were fearless to the point of stupidity: even with arms hacked off they would bite, even with chests pierced they would lash out with claws in their dying moments.

The Four Domains’ legendaries, holding the advantage, did not want to be dragged into mutual destruction.

Their tactics were conservative—step by step, steady, not pressing to crush immediately.

Abaddon watched coldly.

Good.

Fight well.

Keep it going; the longer it drags out, the more I recover.

Suddenly, a chill flicked across the demons’ gazes.

He noticed the Red Emperor bow his gaze and glance in his direction.

That glance was brief and casual, like a fleeting sweep.

But Abaddon felt that it had paused on him for a moment. Then the dragon spread wings and burned with fierce qi.

Yet the dragon did not rush to other generals.

The dragon beat its wings and rose straight up.

Abaddon frowned slightly, tracking the figure tightly.

He saw the red-iron dragon’s body change as it ascended; Dragon Qi welled from within, shaping and coalescing around him into a new form—three heads and six arms.

A three-headed, six-armed battle form.

The Red Emperor opened his maw.

Three mouths yawned, Dragon Breath beginning to condense within.

His six huge arms drew together towards the chest, palms facing like he was cupping something; Dragon Qi and Dragon Breath compressed and condensed between his palms into a dazzling orb.

Abaddon’s pupils narrowed.

He had not seen this starting pose directly.

When the dragon struck last time, Abaddon had been deep within the rift and had not witnessed that strike’s construction, but a strong certainty rose in his heart:

This was it.

This was the move!

When it landed upon the earth, the sky would change color and the rift would be leveled.

Below, the rift still spewed aura.

Abyssal energy gushed, demons scattered, generals still fighting... If that strike came down now, everything would repeat.

All would be undone.

Abaddon’s breathing grew heavy.

He could not afford more delay!

He knew he had not recovered enough; acting now was not ideal.

If he had another hourglass’s grain of time—half even—he could restore more. But if he allowed the red-iron dragon to finish forming unimpeded, that strike would come and there would be no more chances.

Besides...

His current state would do.

A great demon degraded was still a great demon; his essence did not change, only his life tier lagged. He was confident he could sweep any demon-general-level Material Plane creatures, even if it took longer.

“Take care of that dragon first.”

Abaddon said softly, his pupils reflecting the red-iron dragon’s form.

“This time, I will not suffer shame because of him!”

“With his blood and dragon soul, I will reclaim my glory!”

A pair of fleshy wings on the demon’s back unfolded. With a beat they surged skyward.

A dark silhouette tore through wind and snow, hurtling straight for the red-iron dragon.

Abaddon’s speed was terrifying.

Like a black lightning bolt he crossed the battlefield in a blink; the clashing legendaries and generals only felt a gust pass and, before they could react, the figure was gone.

His talons reached, locking onto the red-iron dragon’s heart location.

If that strike landed, it would tear through his chestplate, rip out the heart, and kill him outright.

Even better, the red-iron dragon was forming a terrifying energy orb.

At that moment he concentrated fully, pouring all energy into the sphere.

Attacks that surpass one’s limits and require long preparation are most vulnerable to interruption.

If disrupted, energy would go wild and backfire, injuring the caster—he might not even need to strike; the dragon could blow himself to pieces. Then Abaddon would finish him with a talon.

Closer.

Closer still.

Abaddon could make out scale patterns and the expressions on the dragon’s three faces.

Now!

The demon accelerated to its target.

Suddenly, the red-iron dragon bowed his heads and all six eyes fixed on Abaddon. One dragon maw split into a grin.

Alarm flared in Abaddon’s chest.

That smile was wrong.

He saw the dragon’s six converging arms abruptly change trajectory.

They stopped condensing energy and shoved outward instead.

The half-formed orb flew free.

It was not a complete construct: energy insufficiently condensed, shape irregular, cracks snaking across the surface as it tumbled—on the verge of collapse at any instant.

Yet it remained an extremely compressed mixture of Dragon Qi and Dragon Breath.

Its power was immense.

Abaddon’s pupils shrank; a flicker of unease crossed his face.

He shifted slightly, altering his flight path to avoid a direct hit.

Abaddon reacted fast, moving with great speed.

Though already close, he dodged the linear-thrown sphere. But before he could feel relief, the half-formed orb detonated behind him.

Boom!

Blinding light swallowed everything.

Destructive energy swept outward; the shockwave tore away surrounding cloud layers.

Air split with a shrill wail; space quivered and thin fissures formed; even sounds were drowned by the explosion, leaving only buzzing ears.

Abaddon was not directly struck.

But he was too near and was blasted by the shockwave.

He tumbled through the air dozens of times, flapping bat-wings to barely regain control.

When he steadied, several charred marks marred his dark chitinous armor; tiny fractures spread across the keratinous chest layer like a spiderweb, though no blood flowed and the wounds were not deep.

He looked down at his chest.

Then he raised his head and looked afar.

The red-iron dragon hovered high.

He showed no signs of backfire; three heads held high, six arms at his sides. Three pairs of dragon pupils flashed a strange light and looked at him with a trace of amusement.

“Your eyes.”

Abaddon rasped, voice hoarse. “So you noticed me long ago—no wonder your counter was so fast.”

He felt his disguise exposed.

“This is interesting.”

“But that’s all.”

The cracks in the demon’s chest healed rapidly; new keratin layers regrew and charred marks flaked away.

He bared his teeth in a savage grin.

Then he beat his wings and flew forward until he lined up horizontally with the red-iron dragon, roughly a li away.

High in the sky, wind and snow raged.

Two figures faced off in midair.

One, a dark demon great demon with twin wings and four pairs of special horns twisted into a crown, bat-wings spreading to shade a patch of sky.

The other, a black-red three-headed giant dragon, three heads proud, six arms hanging—like something out of myth.

At a glance, neither looked like a native of this world.

Below, other legendaries and demon generals still fought.

Magic explosion lights, lightning strikes, muffled impacts of fists and feet, demon roars and human shouts filtered faintly.

Some crown-level legendaries and high-tier daemon generals glanced upward.

They saw the duel but withdrew their gaze, not meaning to interfere; on the Material Plane’s side, crown-level fighters eased their assault slightly, not hastening to end the battle.

“Abyssal Archfiend?”

From the dragon’s side, a voice rang with a hint of surprise.

Abaddon smiled, baring fangs.

“Sharp sight.”

He threw back his head, spreading arms and wings as if to embrace the Material Plane and the coming fight.

“This is our second encounter.”

He introduced himself. “Abaddon, Slaughter Great Demon under the Lord of Flame Prison.”

“Though not at full strength now, I have more than enough to shatter your resistance.”

Abaddon fixed the red-iron dragon with a scornful stare.

“Come, little dragon of the Material Plane.”

He curled a talon toward the dragon.

“Let me see what else you can do besides brewing one massive attack.”

“Surprise me—let me revel in your pain and sorrow.”

He opened his mouth to show jagged fangs. Then he sneered: “Or run now.”

“I’ll let you flee first, then I’ll chase slowly, until you have nowhere to retreat, until you despair seeing that you cannot escape my palm.”

He waited.

Waited for fear or tension to flit across the dragon’s face.

Any normal Material Plane being hearing the name “Great Demon of the Abyss” should react; it was imprinted deep in the soul from repeated Abyssal incursions.

The red-iron dragon was silent for a second.

Then he laughed.

All three dragon faces smiled.

There was surprise, relief, and something Abaddon could not read.

“Just a great demon.”

The dragon’s voice rolled, layered like thunder.

Abaddon’s gaze sank. “What did you say?”

he demanded.

The red-iron dragon spoke slowly, every word clear: “Just a great demon—do you expect me to flee, to avoid your edge?”

Abaddon’s eyes bulged.

“Just?”

“Just!”

He was the Slaughter Great Demon! Once the most trusted general under the Lord of Flame Prison! A being that struck fear into countless Material Plane creatures!

Even degraded and not at full power, he was still a terror spawned by the Abyss!

This dragon dared say “just”?

“You—!”

Abaddon’s roar had not finished when the red-iron dragon cheerfully continued.

“That strike just now was a half-formed product, and you dodge a half-formed product, then swagger before me?”

The dragon shook his head, the smiles on his three faces widening with mockery.

“Hah.”

“A great demon?”

“In my eyes, nothing special. Your words sound like a mongrel barking.”

Abaddon’s face twisted.

Demons’ qi churned violently; purple light ran wild, staining the sky murky. Snow that fell in that zone instantly vaporized into steam.

“Are you trying to anger me?”

Abaddon’s voice strained up from his throat.

“You succeeded!”

“But you will regret it!”

He howled and beat his demonic wings hard.

His massive body sped toward the red-iron dragon with incredible velocity, his dark shape leaving an afterimage, talons slicing the air with shrieks.

Opposite, the red-iron dragon unfolded six arms and three necks, unflinching to meet him.

Nearer.

Nearer still.

When the mind was intensely focused, time seemed to slow.

As they closed, Abaddon allowed a silent smile; the previous rage melted away.

Between his horn clusters, purple electric sparks popped and raced over him.

Where the electricity passed, muscles swelled, bones grew, chitin thickened.

Abaddon’s body started to expand.

Purple demonic qi swept his body, and the dark keratin armor visibly thickened.

New keratin layers sprouted from beneath the skin, covering the old to form thicker protection; muscles ballooned, each fiber taut and filled with explosive force.

His back batwings spread wider by meters.

Wing bone spikes lengthened and sharpened like curved spears.

Talons grew thicker and more hooked, nail roots bulging and tips razor-sharp. The four pairs of brow horns grew thicker and more tortuous, twisting into a real crown atop his head.

The Slaughter Great Demon’s battle form.

Even degraded, even not at his peak, he remained a being that made countless creatures shudder.

Abaddon bared his fanged grin and breathed heavily, purple demonic qi pouring from his mouth and nose.

Then he saw it.

The dragon also changed.

Golden lightning surged through the red-iron dragon, wrapping his three heads and six arms, crackling louder and denser, forming a golden net. Bloodflame rose from under his scales, scorching the surrounding air and wrapping his whole body.

He too swelled in size.

Dragon scales thickened, edges glowing like red-hot iron.

Lotus-like red patterns spread across his scales from the chest outward—along limbs, neck, head—until they covered his entire body like veins of fire flowing beneath the surface.

All three pairs of dragon pupils flared, their radiance a burning light.

His length, around fifty meters before, swelled to sixty, seventy meters with the lightning and bloodflame—

Still growing.

Lofty and magnificent, rivaling even a great demon’s bulk.

As they closed, both completed their battle-form transformations.

Abaddon struck first with his right claw.

No flourish—pure force and speed, ripping the air and opening five jet-black slashes that briefly tore space.

The dragon’s left head whipped around; two of the six arms raised in unison.

Smash!

When claw met arm, a visible ring-like shockwave burst from the impact point.

Compressed air condensed into solidity and radiated outward, sweeping away wind and snow, tearing cloud layers to reveal a sullen sky beyond.

Abaddon’s talon sank into the dragon’s forearm.

At the same time, the dragon’s arm was forced downward—but the attack was stopped.

“What power!”

Abaddon’s heart jolted.

He felt the vast force contained within the dragon’s claws and arms, matching his talon blow.

Though somewhat weaker than his own, this was no small thing—but he was a great demon! With traits like demonic power that enhance strength!

At parity, his power attribute had once exceeded most dragons. He had torn Ancient Dragons’ wings bare-handed and smashed giants’ skulls with a single fist.

Strength was his pride.

Now he lacked a crushing advantage.

In that instant Abaddon noticed the dragon’s eyes.

They held clear surprise.

Surprise that his own strength could be inferior.

What right do you have to be surprised?!

Abaddon felt an absurdity.

Simultaneously he noticed the dragon’s other arms, snapping shut like a Venus flytrap, converging to encircle him from different angles, attempting to block his retreat.

The middle head opened wide and Dragon Breath condensed, ready to spew.

Abaddon gave a low roar.

His left wing beat suddenly and he twisted his body.

Dragon breath grazed his shoulder, scorching the keratin to red and sizzling, but at the same time his left talon lashed out toward the dragon’s chest.

The dragon’s other arms pressed down as a guard.

Claw met arm again.

This time Abaddon’s right talon remained lodged in the dragon’s forearm.

He ripped violently.

Shred!

Large flakes of scale and chunks of flesh were torn away; scales flew and gore sprayed. Dragon blood spurted like a fountain onto Abaddon.

Whoosh!

Bloodflame flared.

Dragon blood on him ignited, burning and searing, causing sharp pains.

Abaddon frowned and had to split off a sliver of spirit to guide demonic qi to wrap and suppress the burning bloodflames.

Across, the dragon seemed unmoved by pain.

His dragon blood still flowed, but he did not retreat.

All six arms swung simultaneously—two balled into fists, two became talons, two joined like blades—attacking Abaddon’s skull, chest, abdomen, back, and wings from six directions.

“You cannot bridge the gap between our essences.”

Abaddon did not dodge.

His demonic wings pulled close, shielding his front.

No-Light Shield!

At once, a deep black, profound radiance enveloped him.

Black as ink, deep as an abyss, it swallowed surrounding light and formed an oval shield that wrapped Abaddon completely.

Crack! Smash! Smash! Smash!

All six blows landed at once.

Dense fissures spidered across the black shield.

They spread from impact points and covered the entire surface; then—crack!

The shield shattered into innumerable black fragments whirling in the air, which then formed a black tide sweeping back toward the red-iron dragon.

The dragon convulsed.

Six depressions or tears instantly appeared on his body, matching the positions of the six blows that struck Abaddon’s shield: scales scattering, flesh torn, blood pouring out, leaving a shocking sight.

No-Light Shield could absorb damage, store it, and when broken, reverse it back.

Abaddon stood unscathed behind the shattered shield and smiled with satisfaction as he looked at the wounds on the red-iron dragon.

Then he surged toward the dragon again.

Sizzle, sizzle.

Lightning-like demonic qi again crawled between his horns and raced across his form. As it passed, his shape shifted.

Muscles tightened; fibers bunched like steel wires.

His body streamlined, head sharpened to a perfect aerodynamic shape, and two additional demonic wings condensed behind the original pair—three pairs total.

Shadow-Demon Form!

At this stage his speed reached extremes.

Moreover, he could inherit and retain part of the prior Mountain-Demon Form’s strength, folding some of that power into the new form.

He mainly used these two battle forms.

But after some preparation in combat he could switch, each change temporarily inheriting aspects of the previous state.

Forms stacked, growing stronger as the fight wore on.

This was the Slaughter Great Demon Abaddon’s combat style.

“Taste my talons!”

Abaddon roared, circling the dragon with extreme speed.

His form left countless afterimages; bat-wings beat in sync to reach peak velocity. He struck from every direction—fast, brutal, each claw aimed at vital points.

The red-iron dragon responded with everything.

Three pairs of eyes provided full 360-degree coverage; six arms parried multiple directions; all three heads rotated constantly, tracking Abaddon; six arms swung to block incoming attacks.

But Abaddon was too fast.

Even when the dragon captured his trajectory, he could not block everything in time.

Rend!

A slice tore open the dragon’s left thigh.

Crack!

A claw shredded the right shoulder, scales splintering.

Slic—!

A long cut opened across the abdomen; blood gushed.

Wounds multiplied on the red-iron dragon.

Blood poured from many places, reddening his scales.

Yet he did not flinch or cry out—he fought on in stoic silence, blocking and countering.

“Target the heads first.”

Abaddon made a decision.

His countless afterimages condensed at once.

He materialized and raised his right talon directly for the dragon’s skulls.

Two of the dragon’s arms rose to block; a third swung from the side to strike Abaddon’s flank.

Abaddon folded as if teleporting to evade.

He spun midair and his left talon struck that same head.

Tear!

A blocking arm lagged a beat.

The claw grazed the dragon’s cheek.

Though avoiding a direct hit, talon tips cut the face and blood flowed down.

As Abaddon prepared to pursue, the dragon’s middle and right heads simultaneously spewed Dragon Breath.

Two scalding pillars crossed in a sweep, burning everything in their path and sealing his retreat.

Abaddon retreated with a snort.

He beat wings and shot backward to avoid direct blast, then arced through the air and sprinted again.

The red-iron dragon roared.

His body rotated, wings sweeping like blades to horizontally lash at the demon.

Abaddon pulled back again.

The wings grazed his body but missed.

The demon looked at his talons.

They were smeared with dragon blood, which became like licking crimson flames.

He shook them, demonic qi flaring to extinguish the bloodflame.

Then he lifted his head to look at the red-iron dragon.

The dragon’s wounds healed quickly.

Muscles twitching, bones knitting, skin closing, scales regrowing—though not incredibly fast, they were definitely repairing.

Abaddon grinned.

“Regeneration?”

He said aloud: “You endure beyond what I expected.”

“Fine. I’ll enjoy skinning and dismembering you.”

The red-iron dragon did not answer.

He hovered, three pairs of eyes fixed on Abaddon.

The center head shot upward; its pupils became deep blood red. Then the other two pairs matched.

His body swelled again.

Golden lightning intensified; bloodflame thickened; atop that rose another layer: a crimson radiance pouring from his depths to coat his scales.

The dragon’s aura leapt a stage and continued to rise slowly, like something within him awakening.

“His combat power is still increasing?”

Abaddon was startled.

Opposite, all six blood-red dragon pupils stared at Abaddon.

Then he spoke.

“Come.”

“Again!”

His voice was hoarse like rolling stones, unhidden warlike intent clear.

“Struggle while you can!”

Abaddon pushed down the odd unease in his chest.

His wings beat and his streamlined Shadow-Demon form streaked at even greater speed toward the dragon.

The fight resumed.

Abaddon’s speed still held the edge.

His talons, wing-bone edges, even tail tip became lethal weapons, raining attacks from all sides, each strike targeting the dragon’s joints, wounds, and blind spots.

His assault was a storm, encircling the dragon.

But the red-iron dragon clearly grew stronger.

He matched Abaddon’s tempo.

Three pairs of scarlet pupils tracked every move; six arms parried, blocked, and counterattacked—and their counters began to land!

Abaddon’s claw tore open a dragon’s rib cage, pulling away chunks of muscle.

Talons sank deep into flesh, leaving a deep wound; dragon blood sprayed and burned at the demon’s claws.

Yet almost simultaneously a poised dragon arm lashed out, fingertip wrapped in highly compressed Dragon Qi, solidified and lightning-fast, stabbing at an exposed opening Abaddon’s attack had made.

Abaddon twisted aside.

The dragon’s talon bit along his keratin, gouging a deep scar from rib to chest; blood dripped into the high-altitude snow.

“This one—speed and reflexes both improved.”

Abaddon thought.

This was the first time he had truly been hurt.

Previous battles had been him harming others and enjoying the hunt.

But now the dragon could hurt him.

“Still, this should be his last resistance.”

Abaddon snorted; twisting in midair he dodged the dragon’s tail sweep.

Before he could strike, the dragon used momentum to spin.

Arms swept and forced him back, then its heads opened and Dragon Breath poured out—three scorching pillars fanning to block his escape.

Abaddon laughed coldly.

His form contorted midair, folding with incredible agility to slip through a gap in the breath.

The scorching beams grazed and singed his armor edges, but he did not care.

He closed in and his right talon aimed for the dragon’s throat.

Two dragon arms rose to block.

On impact, Abaddon’s left talon struck from below in a sneak, his body twisting, and jabbed fiercely into the dragon’s abdomen.

Thrust!

The demonic talon sank into flesh, piercing scale and muscle into the abdominal cavity. Abaddon ripped out a massive chunk.

Blood and tissue fell from his claws into the air.

The red-iron dragon’s face hardened like steel.

His expression did not twist with pain, as if the wound was not on him.

Yet two other massive arms slammed into Abaddon.

Smash! Boom!

The hits landed hard.

Abaddon’s keratin armor dented deeply.

Two deep imprints marked his chest and shoulder; fractures spidered outward. A shock of pain hit him; bones groaned.

But the killing light in his eyes flared.

Though injured, his talon carved a deep trench under the dragon’s scales, blood gushing from the gouge.

Bloodflame splattered.

The dragon raised his arms again.

All six moved: two guarded, two attacked, two like iron pincers wrapping toward Abaddon’s neck.

“Is he stupid, or truly fearless?”

Abaddon’s form became an afterimage and he retreated, wings beating hard to create distance.

He glanced at his wounds.

He raised his head and stared at the blood-soaked, wound-riddled red dragon whose aura grew more dangerous.

Something was off.

This dragon was rapidly adapting to his speed.

At first he couldn’t match Abaddon, passively taking hits. Now he could track trajectories and counter effectively.

And... the more injured, the more ferocious his attacks.

Not just fiercer.

All his attributes rose.

Speed, strength, reflexes, defense—each minute he grew stronger, as if wounds did not weaken but stimulated him.

“Interesting... very interesting!”

Abaddon licked his lips; besides murderous intent, his eyes held the excitement of discovering a novel prey.

“It’s been long since I met such a creature.”

“Let’s see how long you can last!”

He lunged again like black lightning, afterimages streaming, lightning crackling between horns and purple demonic qi racing over him.

Mountain-Demon Form!

His body swelled monstrously.

Muscle bulged like inflated sacks, every fiber taut with explosive force.

Keratin armor thickened into heavy plate; his streamlined form became as massive as a mountain—broad shoulders, thick back, arms like pillars.

After switching, though slightly slower, he was still much faster than at the start.

Some agility from his Shadow-Demon form remained, layered onto this new form.

His strength and defense skyrocketed.

“Now, crush you!”

Abaddon roared and charged with brutal force, claws together like crushing presses, slamming down with irresistible power!

The dragon raised six arms in crossed block.

Boom!

This impact was heavier than any previous.

An obvious shockwave burst from the clash and spread outward, ripping apart the few high clouds. Even other legendaries in nearby battles felt the tremor and diverted some attention toward the Red Emperor and the great demon.

The red-iron dragon grunted.

The six arms creaked under the strain.

His proud, vigorous body was shoved rearward; masses of scales shattered and bloodflame gushed, staining the sky beneath him.

Abaddon pressed the advantage.

He charged into the dragon’s body, coating himself in burning bloodflame, and rammed his massive head into the dragon’s arms, forcing defensive limbs aside.

Bloodflame licked his form but he paid no heed.

“Die!”

Abaddon’s right-arm muscles stood out like cords, fibers taut, veins bulging.

Talons closed and demonic qi welled from his palms, condensing into a cold gleam at the tips—ink-black and capable of piercing anything.

He stabbed fiercely at the dragon’s chest.

Thrust!

The heavy scales and tough muscles were pierced by what felt like Abaddon’s peak concentrated strike—claw driving through front chest and coming out the back.

The talon passed through bone and flesh and grabbed a still-beating heart.

Time seemed to freeze.

Abaddon’s face showed a cruel, gleeful smile as he crushed the dragon heart completely, then he fixed the dragon’s eyes and declared in a low voice:

“See, this is the resistance against the Abyss...”

His words faltered mid-sentence.

“Not dead?”

He saw the red-iron dragon, pierced through and missing a heart, yet the three pairs of blood-red pupils still stared unblinkingly at him.

Then the dragon lifted one of his arms.

In the next moment, a gravitational, siphoning force erupted from the red-iron dragon’s broken body center.

Whoosh!

On the battlefield below, the fighting demons froze.

Life essence drained from them and the slain bodies as rivers returning to the sea, wildly surging toward the dragon in the sky.

Not only that—

Targeting Abaddon, the dragon’s talon also clawed at him from afar; he felt life energy being drawn uncontrollably from within his body. Strands of life essence were ripped out and funneled toward the dragon.

They poured into the huge void in the dragon’s chest and his wounds.

Then meat buds at the edges of the chest opening sprouted and proliferated at visible speed, intertwining and striving to close the breach and regenerate organs.

His wounds healed at an eye-opening pace.

His aura recovered astonishingly fast.

“Damn!”

Abaddon was shocked and furious.

He tried to yank his arm free.

But the dragon’s body tightened; newly grown meat buds and contracting muscle fibers clamped down on his arm and would not let him withdraw instantly.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

As he tried to pull back, spontaneous bursts of flame erupted on his head, rasping his mind and making him dizzy, blood flowing, ears ringing.

At once, the dragon’s six arms seized Abaddon’s arm, talons embedding into his keratin and digging into muscle so he could not break free.

Then all three dragon mouths opened.

Dragon Breath!

Scorching columns spewed almost point-blank.

Scarlet brilliance struck Abaddon.

Boom!

Abaddon finally wrenched his arm out with tremendous force, ripping away chunks of flesh and bone. But he was hurled back by the Dragon Breath’s impact, tumbling through the air.

Burned by the breath, his chest, abdomen, and face were lacerated—charred, flesh curled back revealing gory muscle; keratin plate shattered and peeled in slabs, drifting away in the wind.

A demon’s body was incredibly tough, but struck by such breath, he suffered grievous injury.

Abaddon’s chest heaved as he looked across at the red-iron dragon.

Bloodflame billowed around the dragon, reaching up into the clouds.

Six arms neatly aligned, three heads held high.

In appearance, he now carried even greater great-demon majesty than Abaddon.

“Good, very good.”

Abaddon felt the pain across his form and his face darkened.

“The heart is not your weak point? Then I will tear you apart entirely!”

He lunged again.

The red-iron dragon met him.

Their bodies crashed and clashed crazily in the high air.

Each collision boomed like thunder; shockwaves radiated in circles, shredding wind and snow, shaking the sky.

Their figures entangled, separated, and streaked long paths across the heavens.

Blood sprayed, flesh flew, scales and plates shattered.

Abaddon shifted into Shadow Form again.

His speed soared; he blurred into afterimages and struck from all sides.

The dragon’s wounds multiplied—deeper and more numerous; in places white bone showed and muscle was nearly gone.

Still the dragon fought, though visibly strained.

Finally the great demon seized an opportunity.

He charged almost in a straight line, bracing his spine to take the dragon’s counter.

Two dragon arms struck him in the back, shattering armor and flesh, but he pressed on into the dragon’s embrace.

A pair of demonic arms stabbed in from both sides.

Talons pierced scale and muscle and came out the other side.

“Die!”

He roared; muscles and veins bulged and he ripped the dragon in two.

Rip!

The red-iron dragon’s body was torn in half.

Left and right halves hung in the great demon’s talons; blood rained down and splashed over Abaddon. Bloodflame ignited and burned him, but he reveled in victory without care.

The demon raised his arms and howled to the sky.

“Victory! Belongs! To! A—”

The voice stopped.

Alarms rang in his chest.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Dragon Breath streamed from the dragon’s mouths, striking him. Talons, wings, tail—all assaulted him in a counterassault far surpassing previous killing power.

Abaddon was caught off guard and struck by breath head-on; his talons slipped free of the dragon flesh.

The two torn halves of the body fell away.

But as they fell, the two halves were pulled back together as if by invisible threads.

Shattered bones reassembled; jagged fragments sprouted new bony spikes that interlocked.

Ripped muscle fibers entwined and reconnected; blood vessels rejoined and blood began to flow; skin covered the wounds; scales reformed.

Terrifying wounds healed at a rate defying logic.

Halfway down in their fall, the dragon still bore seams of colossal wounds—but he opened his eyes.

All six eyes remained blood-red.

Roar!

Though appearing near dead, his aura made Abaddon sense peril.

He was stronger, fiercer, more dangerous than before.

“The closer to death, the stronger?”

Abaddon stared, electrified.

He had roughly learned the dragon’s combat pattern.

This was a creature that grew stronger the more it bled, a monster that revived through death.

He also saw the dragon was barely holding on, his patched body and stitched closure suggesting near limit.

“A dying struggle.”

Abaddon muttered: “How long can you hold on? Embrace your death!”

He dove, the dragon surged upward.

Fist and claw strikes boomed like thunder.

The dragon’s attacks came in rolling waves, each blow stronger and faster; six arms spun like windmills attacking from all angles.

Abaddon could withstand the onslaught.

His experience, technique, and immense physique let him meet the storm.

But every clash numbed his arms, demonic qi drained, wounds multiplied; keratin plates peeled away revealing raw, battered muscle.

Yet a great demon remained a great demon.

He was the Slaughter Great Demon who had survived countless fights against formidable foes.

Abaddon gathered power again.

He shifted forms.

Boom!

His body swelled.

The Mountain-Demon’s brute force stacked with Shadow-Demon agility.

His demonic talons burst forth and pierced the dragon’s abdomen, ripping to leave enormous wounds. But the dragon’s counter did not lag; two dragon talons slammed into his chest and side.

Crack! Crack!

Bones snapped audibly.

Abaddon felt multiple bones break, shards tearing into organs and bringing stabbing pain.

He was flung outward, tumbling, wing flaps slowing him to barely steady.

Keratin plates were almost entirely broken away, large slabs peeled off, skin ripped to reveal scarred crimson flesh, some wounds to the bone.

When he stabilized, he did not rush to attack.

He floated, gasping, watching the red-iron dragon.

The dragon’s body swayed precariously.

A huge through-and-through wound in his abdomen spurted organs and blood. Scales were mostly shattered, flesh ragged; his breath was thin and irregular—like a candle in the wind.

“Ah, it’s over.”

Abaddon’s expression calmed; he spoke unhurriedly.

“In my long life I have faced countless foes, and you, red-and-iron giant, rank among the most memorable.”

“This will be your honor.”

He could sense the dragon’s life force was nearly extinguished.

That last burst had been his final blaze.

Such reckless, all-out attack must have exhausted him.

Indeed, the dragon froze. Movements stopped; six arms dropped weakly, three heads hung low, mouths parted but no sounds came.

Then eyes dimmed.

As if all that propped him up had been pulled away, the huge body stumbled and then, like a marionette, fell toward the ground.

“Finally...”

Abaddon whispered.

He felt weariness and weakness, but more satisfaction.

Yet the crown-levels of the Material Plane below were still fighting.

They noticed their great’s fall but showed no reaction—they did not flee. Their assault remained measured, dealing with enemies before them.

This...

Abaddon felt a bad premonition.

Then he saw the red-iron dragon’s falling body halt.

The fall stopped.

Hum!

A brilliant, pure, life-filled pale light surged skyward!

Light poured from the dragon’s core and lit the entire sky. It pierced wind and snow, cut through clouds and obstacles, and shone over the land.

It was so dazzling Abaddon narrowed his eyes.

He saw the dragon who should have died bathed in light and open his eyes again.

Wounds healed at blinding speed.

A huge through wound, gaping rips near bone, a nearly shattered body—all repaired at impossible speed; broken bone rejoined, torn muscle restored, fragmented scales regrown.

His aura recovered like a volcano erupting.

In moments he was nearly at full power again!

The light faded.

The red-iron dragon stretched.

He flexed six arms, moved three heads, twisted neck and waist, and then looked at Abaddon.

They stared at one another.

One body battered and nearly peeled, keratin almost gone, demonic qi nearly spent and on the brink.

The other now nearly intact.

Abaddon fell silent.

His expression changed from stunned to bewildered, then to a near-ludicrous rage.

At last he trembled and laughed to the sky.

Angry laughter.

“Hahahahahaha!”

“A true Undying Dragon!”

He stopped laughing and slowly said, “I see where that title comes from.”

Regret?

Though unwilling to admit it, a trace of regret crept into Abaddon’s heart.

If he had not underestimated the dragon and had cautiously plundered intelligence about this Undying Dragon first, today might have unfolded very differently.

But what is done is done; regrets changed nothing.

Abaddon opened his talons and calmed down.

“Come then, let me see how many times you can revive.”

Whoosh!

He beat his demon wings.

Yet the boastful Abaddon did not rush the dragon.

Instead he suddenly spun and shot toward another direction—

the rift.

Demons reaching his level retained some survival-honed wisdom despite their violent natures. They understood the importance of retreat.

But there were others here.

The Crown of Three Aspects, the Crown of Magic, the crown-blue dragons—all surged at once.

They forced back the generals and launched a torrent of attacks at Abaddon, cutting off his route to the rift and denying him escape.

The generals’ assaults were frantic but could not break the line.

Abaddon had to stop.

He had barely turned when the familiar dragon shadow closed to mere feet.

“Would a great demon like me die because of you crawling pests?”

Abaddon paused, laughed: “Ha! Impossible!”

His body swelled again.

Demonic transformation stacked his attributes; remaining keratin plates shattered into fragments and scattered; muscles split with fissures and blood and demonic qi squeezed out like a flood.

This was his final strength.

After countless fierce battles his demonic body neared its limit; this was the last madness.

And his target was singular.

Whoosh!

Wings beat fiercely as he rushed the red-iron dragon.

He refused to believe the dragon could kill him.

“The closer to death, the stronger—now he’s weakest!”

“Kill! Kill him!”

Abaddon gambled his all and closed on the red iron giant.

But the result surprised him.

Rend!

His talon tore at the dragon’s scales and set off sparks. He still ripped them, leaving wounds, but the resistance felt unprecedented.

It was as if the dragon had evolved in battle.

Abaddon clearly felt the dragon’s scales harden beyond before.

At the same time, the dragon’s speed had greatly increased; not relying on a near-death burst, he could now match the demon’s tempo.

Boom! Boom!

Explosive sounds continued as the two figures tangled and tore the sky; no other legendaries approached their battlefield.

Time ticked by.

The battle slowly reached a close.

Not long after,

Abaddon roared and threw everything into a final attack, snapping the dragon’s neck.

Crack!

His talon seized the dragon’s head and twisted hard; vertebrae fractured with an audible snap.

But he had reached his limit. The dragon’s talon wrapped and the head was caught.

Tear!

He ripped hard; the neck broke, the spine separated, the skull detached from the body.

The world spun.

Abaddon’s vision blurred; he watched his body fall, saw his wings droop lifeless and his blood spread across the sky.

“Dead? Is he dead?”

He clung to a final thread of consciousness and watched the dragon.

Then he saw...

The dragon emitted a siphoning force again, drawing life from the surroundings, absorbing life energy from the battlefield below and even from Abaddon’s own bleeding corpse.

His state visibly improved.

Can’t this end?

Never-ending...

Seeing this familiar scene, Abaddon was speechless.

“Is this dragon some god-incarnation of a dragon or an immortal disguised after degradation?”

“Enough, end it...”

Abaddon shut his eyes and stopped watching the dragon’s figure, embracing death as darkness consumed his mind.

ps: Exhausted, burned out.

Writing to the end left me flushed, hands trembling, sweating—a very strange feeling, haha, feels like I’m about to evolve....

Finally, please vote monthly tickets! Monthly tickets! Monthly tickets!

Let this sovereign take the monthly-ticket crown again!