Chapter 40: The World is Vast, Yet So Small… Right, Tso Lan?

Ten thousand bolts of thunder, this was the divine majesty said to originate from the God-King Zeus. Shendu raised his arm to parry the sword's edge, as the lightning relentlessly attempted to grind away his life force.

"Is this all? Not enough! Not nearly enough!"

He let out a ferocious roar. The Noble Phantasm-grade Horse Talisman flashed with spiritual light, restoring his body to its peak in an instant. With sheer physical might, he withstood the charge of the thunder-hooved oxen and forcibly overturned the chariot.

Glancing at his surroundings, the dragon legions were finally suffering from the disadvantage of numbers; only a few dragons remained in the sky, circling amidst the hail of arrows. In the rear, within the sky above the palace, new dragons were beginning to gestate. However, the speed of their regeneration could not keep pace with the efficiency of the Heroic Spirit warriors' slaughter.

These warriors had followed the King of Conquerors in life, becoming battle-hardened veterans who had conquered the known world. In terms of legion-scale warfare, they were an absolute force. Without a Noble Phantasm like Gilgamesh's that countered Reality Marbles, facing them head-on was a monumental task.

Many Heroic Spirit warriors had now freed themselves from the main fray. They galloped across the yellow sands, raising their swords with war cries, circling Shendu like hunters harrying their prey.

Iskandar drove his chariot in a wide arc through the desert before charging back into the fray. Lightning flickered and surged, as countless killing intents manifested, aiming to strike down the King who dared to stand alone in the center of the battlefield. Figures swarmed him, dense as moths to a flame.

Shendu stood his ground. In the next second, an Anti-Fortress level pressure erupted. He peeled back his lips in a grin as a gargantuan pillar of fire tore through the desert, carving a corridor through the endless sands. In a mere heartbeat, a thousand warriors perished under the power of the Noble Phantasm-grade Dragon Talisman.

But quickly, the void in the battlefield was refilled by sand and soldiers. They came wave after wave, unafraid of death, each a testament to the essence of "conquest."

Next came the Noble Phantasm-grade Pig Talisman. Golden beams of light with immense piercing power swept across the battlefield. Shendu was like an endgame boss being raided, one man holding back a thousand, standing tall amidst the swirling sands.

"Annoying insects," he rasped.

Several general-level Heroic Spirits finally closed the distance. They raised their swords high, carving bloody arcs through the sand before retreating instantly after a single strike. Shendu snorted coldly as his wounds healed completely.

Though his two lethal moves had erased many warriors, it was still not enough. The dragon legions in the sky were wavering, and the speed at which they were being replenished was far too slow!

Between the two legions, this was where Shendu held the disadvantage. When he reigned as King, he suppressed Asia with absolute power; almost none dared to resist. Whenever the dragon legions swept through the sky, the opposition had no choice but to kneel. These Heroic Spirits, however, had their experience and tenacity forged in the baptism of a hundred wars.

In essence, there was a fundamental difference. Even an Assassin like the Hassan could hardly resist them one-on-one, let alone against the general-level warriors equipped with Noble Phantasms.

Shendu knocked back the swarming crowd and leapt backward. He lowered his eyes slightly. The Shadowkhan were not suited for this specific battlefield. But no matter, he had a more direct, brutal method.

He pressed his palms together, and the earth vibrated beneath his feet. In front of the magnificent palace, along the imperial walkway leading to the Emperor, nine towering statues rose from the ground.

These nine statues stood dozens of feet high, each with a unique, monstrous, non-human face. They held swords, sabers, or halberds; they wore battle armor and carried lethal weapons! As the nine statues rose, a magnificent aura of iron and blood radiated outward.

Shendu growled, "Awaken, my Generals!"

He threw his arms wide, and nine streaks of light shot from his body into the nine statues.

Noble Phantasm: Rat Talisman Power: To give motion to the motionless.

The ground trembled incessantly as the statues slowly returned to life. As if breaking free from the shackles of time, massive chunks of stone fell away. In an instant, the sacred hymns rose again! The nine Generals' eyes blazed like torches as they looked out over the yellow sands.

"Who dares disturb our Master!" Nine voices merged into one, stepping over the brick walls and marching toward the world's dividing line.

Zoran's expression shifted slightly. If Shendu hadn't displayed this power, he might have forgotten the demon possessed this ability.

He murmured softly, "To melt the weapons of the world to cast nine golden men and stand them before the palace... such is the spirit of the Ruler of the World..."

Before his eyes, the nine Generals resurrected from the river of time stepped onto the yellow sands, their heads reaching for the sky as they dove into the fray. Their armor was wreathed in a bloody light as they drove straight in. Though outnumbered, they moved forward with unstoppable momentum.

The King of Conquerors' warriors could only gallop beneath their feet; every step the giants took kicked up a hundred feet of sand. One General swung a sword, and the earth split into a deep chasm. Another swept a spear, clearing the sands as if entering an empty field.

Iskandar watched the scene before him, his eyes filled with shock. He let out a long cry, fearlessly urging his chariot forward.

"What majesty! What spirit! Truly, a worthy opponent!"

Heroic pride surged in his chest. Lightning wove into a dense web as he charged toward one of the Generals. Within his Heroic Spirit army, the light of Noble Phantasms began to flicker. Warriors returned from the dead battled against the great giants; the battlefield was grand and vast, the clash changing the very colors of heaven and earth.

A true epic!

Zoran clapped lightly. On the other side, Waver's eyes were wide with shock. With his limited experience, a scene of such magnitude was enough to overwhelm the soul. A struggle between Kings was always thus: either fight until the last enemy falls, or take the head of the opposing King. Only then could the waves of war be stilled.

Zoran's gaze wavered. He and Shendu were similar, yet different. They were both Demons, their essences were the same, and it wouldn't be wrong to call them the Lords of Fire and the Moon.

But the difference was that Shendu ruled the Asia of the ancient era, while Zoran ruled the Moon alone. Shendu could be called a King because, beyond his demonic nature, he was a King. This was a fact acknowledged by both Gilgamesh and Iskandar, who accepted him as an equal opponent.

Zoran was different. The Moon had no soil suitable for human habitation. The only things that had ever stood by his side were the stars. This was why the temperaments of these two demons were so starkly different.

Identity determines perspective. The Shendu of the past was accustomed to betrayal. Even betraying his own demon brothers and sisters was simply his way of surviving as a ruler of millions of miles of land.

But Tso Lan? All he ever possessed, aside from the stars of the universe, were his seven brothers and sisters who ruled different elements on that azure planet far below his feet.

This was a small, private sentiment belonging solely to Tso Lan, one not shared with outsiders. The moment Zoran merged with this soul, he had felt it. As the eldest who lived apart from the world, Tso Lan held this bond very close to his heart.

Beyond the magnificent battlefield, he looked up at the firmament. The so-called "Loneliness of the Moon" was exactly this. The world possessed by the Moon Demon was vast, vast enough to encompass an entire universe that no one cared about. But at the same time, the Moon Demon's world was very small, small enough to hold only seven siblings.

Netherworld had ground away too much, not just wisdom. Even such a faint, small sentiment could not escape the attrition of time. The Netherworld was like a blood-red millstone; so-called demonic wisdom, so-called sibling affection... all vanished into the unchanging silence of ten thousand years.

But, fortunately.

One elder was gradually remembering it all.