Master and Servant Through a Thousand Worlds

The Spiritwood Realm, the Imperial City of Ten Thousand Saints.

Beneath a veil of light rain, cries of battle and pleas for help rang throughout the imperial city.

Spells flashed across the rainy sky in dense, lightning-like volleys, raining down upon the earth.

But each flash meant another life was lost.

In the city’s streets and alleys, in courtyards and inside homes, corpses lay scattered everywhere.

They had died horribly. Some had been hacked to pieces, others were mangled beyond recognition. Worst of all were the heaps of minced flesh, held together only by bones and sinews, with barely a human shape remaining.

One building after another had collapsed and crumbled, leaving ruins everywhere.

Clusters of flames flickered among them. They offered no warmth; instead, they made the place seem even colder.

The towering city walls were battered and broken, failing to stop the massacre.

Instead, the imperial city had become a terrifying hellscape, its streets running with blood.

At that moment, inside the Imperial Palace at the city’s center,

a sinister-looking man struck a young man with his palm, sending him flying. The youth spat blood and landed among the corpses like a broken sack.

The sinister-looking man swept the area with his spiritual sense, burst into laughter, and departed.