Snow and wind.

White flakes fell from the gray sky, landing on the shattered battlefield, on the demon corpses, on the wounds the great dragon was cauterizing, and were instantly melted by body heat into faint wisps of steam.

“Is it completely dead?” 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

The red iron dragon hovered high above, his blood-red dragon pupils fixed on the falling carcass.

The demon’s body had been torn in half, head separated from torso, wings shattered, blood splattering the sky.

“Whether it’s dead or not, first grind its bones to dust.”

The dragon’s pupils were blood-red, yet his reasoning remained unaffected, decisive in the moment.

His claws reached out.

With Master Life and Death active, the Eternal Death skill was pushed to its limit, an invisible sucking force surging from his palm, enveloping the falling demon remains—the head, the torso, and those scattered limbs.

Claim Life!

The demon remains were forcibly pulled back.

They changed trajectory midair, defying gravity to fly upward toward the six outstretched dragon claws.

Boom!

The demon remains landed in his embrace.

The six claws closed simultaneously, tightly gripping the already shredded great demon body.

When Master Life and Death triggers, the more lifeforms around, the stronger the life energy, and the poorer their resistance, the better the overall recovery effect.

Abaddon’s remains were now the fattest prey.

Garoth’s Claim Life and Life Extraction operated together at maximum.

Invisible tendrils pierced every corner of the demon remains, siphoning the residual life energy.

The great demon’s body withered visibly.

Skin lost its luster, muscles atrophied, bones grew brittle.

A body once full of power was being drained dry, emptied completely.

In contrast, the red iron dragon’s battle damage visibly recovered a great deal.

The wounds on his body healed rapidly, his condition improving at an astonishing rate, his breath restoring. Though still short of full vigor, he was no longer grievously wounded.

Then Garoth used a touch of Explosive Qi.

A surge of flame flared in his claws.

It was fierce and violent, scorching Abaddon’s remains inch by inch, from skull to torso, from wings to talons.

Flesh turned to ash in the blaze.

Bones shattered and crumbled under the heat.

Demonic aura dissipated in the burning.

The great demon’s remains were being erased bit by bit until finally everything turned to ash and cinders, drifting from between the dragon’s talons to merge with the swirling snow.

But…

Beyond the ash, something peculiar appeared.

It was purple.

At first glance it looked like a droplet-shaped solid crystal, translucent and smooth, like a carefully polished gem.

On closer inspection, its shape gently trembled and shifted.

Sometimes lengthening, sometimes shortening, sometimes swelling, sometimes contracting… essentially like some condensed liquid that would not disperse.

It was small overall, about the size of a human fingertip.

Against the dragon’s enormous bulk it seemed like dust.

Yet this tiny liquid-like thing was not immediately destroyed even by the violent flame from the Explosive Qi. It swayed in the fire but retained its complete form, showing no signs of instant incineration.

Moreover, it seemed to endure for quite some time.

“What is this?”

Garoth’s gaze tightened.

He dispelled the flames, stopped the Explosive Qi, and gently pinched the purple liquid between his claw tips, lifting it to his face for close examination.

It trembled slightly on the dragon claw, as if alive.

At the same time, corresponding inheritance knowledge flooded into his mind.

The wisdom accumulated from countless generations of dragons surged like a tide, unfurling in his head and making him instantly understand what it was.

Tear of the Gods.

Tear of the Immortal.

Those were its two most common names.

“This? A good thing!”

Garoth’s eyes showed sudden realization and delight.

There are only two paths beyond Legendary life.

One is to ascend to godhood.

Gather faith, assume authority, become a ruler recognized by the world.

If you choose to ascend, above Legendary is demigod, and demigod is a form of deity.

The other is to break the limit.

Do not rely on faith or seek recognition, but continually excavate your own potential, surpassing limits again and again.

If you choose to break the limit, above Legendary lies Immortalhood, beings who, by their own powers, stand shoulder to shoulder with gods.

In Atlant and on the Arotala Continent, godly faith isn’t strong.

There are no widespread religious traditions here, no vast priestly classes, no entrenched theocratic systems, and thus no soil for demigods to arise.

All beings above Legendary here are Immortals.

Basically, only within the Orc Empire Kantum do demigods exist. Those people worship orc deities, forge faith with blood and fire, follow a supreme god, and thus birthed demigod beings.

“A god is a ruler granted authority by the world.”

“An immortal is a brigand who, by his own might, stands equal to rulers.”

Garoth pondered the inheritance descriptions, whispering to himself.

The source of a god’s strength is called Authority.

It is power granted by many planes and worlds, part of the rules, fueled by countless believers’ faith—the more believers, the purer the faith, the stronger the Authority.

The special power corresponding to Immortals is collectively called Potency.

It is the symbol of one’s own ability, forged from self, soul, and countless battles—self-reliant, not dependent on external sources.

It’s well known that divine Authority manifests as divine status.

But few know that Immortals also have a corresponding Fate Form.

“The demon lord above a great demon is an Immortal life.”

“And this Tear of the Immortal is the Fate Form of an Immortal, containing the nascent Potency that the Slaughter Great Demon had not yet fully condensed.”

Garoth mused.

Whether a Tear of the Gods or a Tear of the Immortal, they are remains left by lives that almost reached a higher level but fell mid-ascension. These lives had touched the edge of Authority or Potency yet ultimately died on the road.

Hence they are called “tears.”

They are regret and sorrow, crystallized unfulfilled dreams.

Their essence is the shaped form of Authority or Potency, both half-finished.

Most importantly, having this Tear of the Immortal can greatly increase the success rate when attempting to breakthrough to Mandate of Heaven!

Mandate of Heaven is the first step on the Path of Immortality.

Countless Legendaries are stuck at Crown Level because of various reasons, unable to take that step due to lack of proper opportunity. The Tear of the Immortal is one of the best chances.

Furthermore, absorbing a Tear of the Immortal has other benefits.

There is a probability it strengthens the embryo of one’s Potency, or even allows inheritance of a certain nascent Potency from the original owner.

The inheritance states that Tears mainly increase the chance of success for Mandate breakthroughs; the chance to strengthen or inherit Potency is lower—only a few lucky ones achieve that.

Even so, Garoth’s breath grew heavy at the thought.

“My Adaptive Evolution talent…”

“If I become an Immortal, then it will be my Potency.”

“If I can get enough Tears of the Immortal, even Fate Forms… my Potency will grow stronger!”

Adaptation is only the beginning.

Being active is the process of evolution,

and shifting from active to limitless, willful evolution—that is true power, unbounded, becoming the ultimate perfect lifeform.

Garoth understood why his talent, though improving, had never experienced a qualitative leap.

Ultimately, his life tier was not high enough to condense his own Potency.

“Gods? Immortals?”

“When I forge an ultimately perfect body, no one will stand above me!”

In that instant, an urge to storm the Abyss opened up in his heart.

Hunt the great demons of the Abyss!

Garoth could nearly imagine the scene.

Standing in the Abyss with countless demon corpses underfoot, a Tear of the Immortal clenched in his claws; then absorb, evolve, breakthrough…

“Hm?”

Suddenly his eyes narrowed as he looked back at the Tear.

“It’s affecting me.”

He concentrated and discovered the Tear of the Immortal trembling subtly, emitting an invisible fluctuation that silently seeped into his consciousness, stirring emotions and amplifying desires.

It was the original owner’s obsession crystallized into the Tear.

Garoth reined in his mind and stored the Tear into a spatial item.

The Tear contained the original owner’s obsession and emotions; it cannot be casually absorbed and used—preparation and proper method are required.

Absorbing it rashly could cause more harm than good.

Garoth exhaled a hot breath.

He skillfully smoothed his impatience and calmed his thoughts, then reviewed the recent battle.

“The one I just killed really was a great demon.”

“By his own account, he weakened himself to arrive early in the Material Plane, self-degrading to do so.”

Garoth stretched his body.

The wounds that were healing still throbbed. In places where bones had been exposed, new flesh was beginning to grow; in pierced areas, organs were only just regenerating fully.

He had won, but the fight had been hard.

Abaddon’s strength far exceeded a typical high-ranking demon general.

That guy was a numbers freak.

No flashy mechanisms—just raw stats: extreme values in strength, speed, defense… and he could enhance those stats further by switching forms, making already excellent attributes even stronger.

Early in the fight he had pushed Garoth firmly to a disadvantage.

If not for Born from Death, the multiple resurrections, the leech-regeneration, the rapid evolution mid-battle… Garoth might truly have lost.

However, Abaddon was all numbers.

He lacked sophisticated mechanisms.

This great demon only fought head-on, crushing by numbers, charging repeatedly. When he met an enemy he couldn’t kill who grew stronger the more it was struck, he grew flustered.

And beyond combat, demons’ intelligence was a weak point.

If Garoth had been in a similar position, upon sensing the enemy’s state was off he would immediately change tactics:

probe, observe, analyze, seek weaknesses.

If necessary, withdraw to preserve strength and seek another chance.

He would never go all-in irrationally to see an opponent’s limits.

But no species is perfect.

This is a common flaw of the demon race.

They are naturally furious and quick-tempered, easily swayed by emotion; when enraged they can lose reason and become reckless.

If they combined stable emotions with high intelligence, perhaps the Abyss would have already swallowed all worlds.

“I hope there are more great demons willing to weaken themselves to arrive in the Material Plane.”

“Then they’ll become my Tears of the Immortal.”

The red iron dragon felt quite pleased, thinking joyfully.

Though the fight was harsh, the gains were immense.

One Tear of the Immortal was worth all the effort.

Besides, he gained valuable combat experience and evolved a bit more.

Garoth calmed his mind and lowered his eyes to the other regions.

The battle continued.

On the ground below and in the sky, fierce fights raged everywhere.

Demons still resisted and roared, but the tide had decisively turned.

In the North, Legendaries had Crown-level Holy Spirits present.

Their Mandate domains strengthened allied Legendaries within and suppressed demon power; with that imbalance, Northern Legendaries held a huge advantage.

Garoth cast a wary glance, with no intention to intervene.

Demon generals were excellent whetstones.

The Northern nations’ Legendaries were not in mortal danger; fighting demon generals would yield abundant experience.

As for Legendaries elsewhere…

Garoth looked in different directions.

To the east, Crown-level martial monk Varta’s expression was composed.

His figure split into three, three silhouettes simultaneously assailed the iron-mounted demon.

The demon general on iron mounts was already badly wounded, demonic aura collapsing, movements sluggish. The three monk forms attacked in rotation, fists and kicks combining, each strike carrying mountain-breaking force.

Soon he unleashed another palm.

A vast sun-soul qi surged from him, coalescing into a giant hand, red-hot like an iron brand, carrying annihilating power that slammed into the demon general.

Boom!

The demon general was smashed into the ground.

The earth shook, stones flew, forming a deep palm-shaped crater.

To the south, the Tower of Magic hovered in midair.

Aphra stood atop the tower, her robe fluttering, dense magical radiance swirling around her.

Her incantations were swift and flawless, constructing powerful spells.

As she finished a syllable, chains of holy light shot from the tower, wrapping the already gravely wounded six-armed serpent demon.

The serpent demon struggled, six arms flailing to break free.

But the chains tightened quickly, constricting deeper into flesh, and combined with other Legendaries’ fierce assaults, the chains pulled her into the tower’s interior.

Almost simultaneously, thunder rolled from the west.

Lamorein roared, dense black clouds circling him, lightning weaving through the clouds. He opened his great maw and heavenly thunder fell like a waterfall, fiercely striking the high-ranking demon opposing him.

That demon was charred black by lightning and fell from the sky.

Other demon generals were also steadily driven back under the onslaught of many Legendaries.

Earlier, apart from the North, others had been conservative; now they seemed like different people, their attacks ferocious, allowing the demons no respite.

Garoth watched this unfold quietly.

When he had been fighting Abaddon for his life, the others’ offensives had not been like this.

Although the demons had been suppressed, they had been able to endure; the various attacks seemed intense but were actually tepid.

Now that Abaddon was dead, they dropped caution.

A hum.

Garoth said nothing.

He merely hovered in place, watching quietly, neither aiding nor stealing anyone’s prey.

At the same time, he produced magical medicine, black oil, gemstones, and other items from his spatial tools, eating as he observed. Unending Regeneration and Rapid Regeneration worked together.

The dragon’s body healed quickly, his breath growing robust, looking far from the ravages of a major battle.

Those he watched one by one tightened and accelerated their offenses.

In the time it takes to drink a pot of tea, the battle was essentially over.

The Tri-Crowns and the Lord of Thunder annihilated the high-ranking demon generals they faced. The monk smashed the iron-mounted demon’s body to pieces. The dragon’s lightning turned enemies to charcoal.

The Crown of Magic drew her target into the tower—whether alive or dead was uncertain, but likely not a good outcome.

Soon the last ordinary demon general fell.

It was a berserker demon, surrounded by three human Legendaries, finally collapsing in a pool of blood. Its corpse fell from the sky, smashing into the ground and splattering bloody mud.

The ordinary Legendaries turned direction and began cleaning up the lesser demons.

The Crown-level figures stopped.

They looked up to the sky at the still-hovering imposing figure.

Before long, two human Crown-levels approached him.

“The majesty’s might radiates like the sun at noon.”

Aphra spoke first, saying, “Single-handedly slaying a great demon and protecting Atlant’s peace… your presence is the blessing of the northern folk.”

Garoth glanced at her without responding.

Varta flew up too.

His face was calm, his self-radiance flickering as if in thought, but he remained silent, hovering before the red iron dragon, his eyes skimming the dragon’s healing wounds.

Meanwhile, the Lord of Thunder did not approach.

Lamorein merely glanced at Garoth from afar, his gaze falling on the dragon’s wounds and watching them heal at a visible speed, the newly formed scales already covering most of him.

Garoth noticed the glance and ignored it.

Then the Tri-Crown spoke slowly.

“His Majesty Ignas.”

“I previously noticed you obtained a Tear of the Immortal.”

“Would you be willing to give it to me? I am prepared to pay any price, everything I have.”

Varta’s tone was sincere, his gaze burning hot enough to nearly ignite.

Garoth looked at him with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Your eyes are keen.”

Varta nodded: “The aura of a Tear of the Immortal is distinct; one near Mandate cannot miss it. Your Majesty should understand—I have been stuck at Crown level for a long time; I’m only one step away.”

“With a Tear of the Immortal, I very likely could breakthrough Mandate.”

He paused, then said in a low voice: “Please, Your Majesty, grant this to me. I can pay any price.”

He did not hide his desire.

Garoth looked at him and asked in a faint voice, “What were you doing while I was fighting the great demon?”

Before the Tri-Crown could answer, the dragon’s eyes sharpened.

He swept his gaze around, not only past the Tri-Crown but also at the Crown of Magic and the distant Lord of Thunder.

Then he said in a low, dangerous tone: “I am tired of formalities and of playing polite games with you.”

“I know very well you were deliberately delaying.”

“With your power you could have quickly defeated opponents and supported me, yet you didn’t. If I and the demon were to both be grievously wounded, you would happily eliminate me along with the demon.”

His gaze was a blade, aimed at the Tri-Crown.

“We are competitors, and that’s understandable. If I were in your place, under those circumstances I wouldn’t rush to support a rival either.”

“But you still dare to hope to obtain a Tear of the Immortal from me?”

These words peeled back the last veil of the four-way alliance’s pretenses.

Varta opened his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words.

He was never eloquent.

Moreover, Garoth spoke the truth—Varta had indeed been delaying, hoping to see the dragon and the demon cripple each other.

Aphra’s gaze flickered but she remained silent, eyes shifting between the dragon and the monk.

Far off, Lamorein’s expression tightened slightly at these words.

Then he raised his head, showing a look of keen interest.

“Your Majesty misunderstands, that was not my intention.”

Varta finally spoke.

“If Your Majesty is willing to trade, I can sign a contract to never invade the North, and even cede broad territories on the eastern continent to Your Majesty, granting resource points to the North for generations.”

“This contract can be witnessed by the gods; there will be no chance of reneging.”

Garoth remained unmoved.

“The purpose of a contract is to be torn up.”

He said it evenly.

Varta’s face tensed subtly.

But he still did not want to give up this opportunity. He took a deep breath and pressed on: “What must I promise, or what must I give, to change your mind?”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed, his breath burning and dangerous.

“You can try to take it from my hands.”

“There is no other way.”

The words left no room for negotiation.

On one hand, Garoth could not casually create a Mandate-level rival for himself; if Varta broke Mandate, next he might aim to remove Garoth.

On the other hand, the Tear of the Immortal was something Garoth needed too.

Not only might it strengthen his Adaptive Evolution talent—if his adaptation could be truly enhanced, that would be a qualitative leap—but breaking through Mandate itself is not easy.

Dragons, if not felled by fate, are destined to become Legendaries; it’s a racial bloodline advantage. Yet even dragons are not guaranteed Mandate upon reaching a certain age.

For most dragons, Crown is the endpoint of their life. Many dragons don’t even reach Crown.

Across the planet Bernardo, there are few Mandate dragons.

Varta was silent for several seconds.

His self-radiance flickered; his expression grew complex, and then he turned to exchange a look with the Crown of Magic.

Aphra took a step back, glanced at the dragon and the monk, and then spoke.

“To obtain such a treasure as a Tear of the Immortal, congratulations.”

She first gave a slight nod to Garoth, then turned to the Tri-Crown: “Lord Varta, which of us who reached Crown level did not have the potential for Mandate? I believe you can breakthrough Mandate by your own power; why be fixated on external objects?”

Clearly, she did not intend to intervene.

The Crown of Magic and Varta were both human, but not close allies; they were not of one mind.

She had no particular interest in the Tear of the Immortal and did not want to see a Mandate appear in the Eastern Alliance.

Besides, if it came to fighting, she would likely be on the front lines and face a high probability of death, and on the other side there was the Lord of Thunder, who might not spare anyone.

As for the Red Emperor—

Perhaps many had overlooked that he was a high-tier Legendary but still far from Mandate.

Varta remained silent for a long time.

His expression darkened slightly. He glanced once at the red iron dragon and finally said nothing more, turning away and departing.