Time to Shake the World!

Night had fallen over Dongshan City, and merchants began shutting their doors. Whether they were local residents or traveling traders from distant lands, everyone was retreating to their dwellings for the night.

On the city's main road, two dozen towering Minotaurs pushed heavily laden carts toward their temporary lodgings. Their massive frames were draped in crude animal pelts, and they carried enormous weapons—spiked maces, warhammers, and iron clubs. Their appearances were fearsome, their expressions grim.

The Minotaur Clan was a Yellow-ranked race, one of the lowest tiers on the Tianheng Continent. Though they possessed brute strength, their intelligence was lacking. Tensions between their nomadic tribes and the Empire had been escalating, with frequent skirmishes breaking out along the border. Yet, trade between the two factions continued.

The Minotaurs hunted ferocious magical beasts, selling their materials to human merchants in exchange for basic necessities. Of course, the ever-cunning human traders took full advantage of their ignorance, fleecing them for every last coin.

Tonight was no different.

They had traded ten precious beast cores—obtained at the cost of their brethren's blood—for a few meager carts of supplies. Their rage was palpable. The Minotaurs' leader, a middle-aged warrior with a colossal battle-axe strapped to his back, clenched his fists as he looked at the pitiful amount of goods.

"Ten beast cores! That damned human swindler!"

If not for the chief's strict orders to avoid conflict, he would have cleaved that rat-faced merchant in two with a single swing.

Just then, a squad of human soldiers appeared in the distance, marching toward them in tight formation. Their leader, a young officer clad in armor, blocked their path with a sharp glare.

"You lot—stop right there! What are you doing in the city?"

The Minotaur leader gritted his teeth, suppressing his growing fury.

"We are merchants of the Minotaur Clan," he said, his voice deep and rumbling. "Why are we being stopped, General?"

The officer snorted. "Spare me the excuses! You think I don't recognize Minotaurs when I see them? Do you have any idea what your people have done to our borders? You claim to be traders? Where's your permit?"

Permit?

The Minotaur's massive bovine eyes widened in disbelief.

"I have never needed a permit before! I have none!"

The young officer's eyes narrowed. "No permit? Then you're spies! Men, search them!"

The sound of swords being drawn echoed through the night. In an instant, the Minotaurs were surrounded by human soldiers, steel gleaming under the moonlight.

The Minotaurs were not cowards. With deep, guttural growls, they raised their weapons, ready to fight. The atmosphere grew thick with tension, and the watching townsfolk scattered in fear.

"Since when did human soldiers dare provoke the Minotaurs like this?" they whispered among themselves.

Before the conflict could erupt, another squad of soldiers arrived—this one far more disciplined, clad in dark leather armor embroidered with a sun-and-moon insignia. There were over a hundred of them, led by a formidable middle-aged general astride a warhorse, wielding a massive blade.

His booming voice shattered the silence.

"What is the meaning of this? Who dares cause trouble in my Dongshan City?!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"It's General Zhao!"

Zhao An—the highest-ranking officer in Dongshan, a third-tier Body Refining Realm warrior—had arrived.

The young officer sneered but did not back down. "General Zhao! These Minotaur spies are conspiring to breach the city! I caught them red-handed!"

Then, without hesitation, he swung his sword at the Minotaur leader.

The Minotaur roared in fury, raising his mace-thick wolf-fang club to block the attack. Against a mere human, he should have had the advantage.

But the next moment—

CRACK!

The Minotaur's massive weapon shattered like brittle wood. The steel blade did not stop. It sliced cleanly through his arm with a sickening SCHLK!

A heartbeat of dead silence.

Then—

A piercing scream erupted as the severed limb hit the ground with a wet thud.

The battlefield exploded into chaos.

Swords clashed. Blood sprayed. Roars and screams tore through the streets.

Zhao An's expression darkened.

"Kill every last one of them!" he roared, spurring his horse forward.

The battle raged on. Though outnumbered, the Minotaurs were powerhouses of raw strength, making the skirmish brutal and bloody.

Suddenly—

A thick plume of black smoke rose from the southern part of the city.

From afar, a frantic cry rang out—

"FIRE! THE TREASURY IS ON FIRE!"

The young officer turned his head sharply.

"General! The treasury is ablaze! Thieves are taking advantage of the chaos!"

Without waiting for orders, he shouted to his men, "We must stop them! Fall back—NOW!"

Like a coordinated machine, his soldiers immediately disengaged, sprinting toward the burning district.

Zhao An narrowed his eyes. Something felt wrong, but he had no time to think—the Minotaur leader was upon him.

Within moments, more fires erupted across the city, consuming vital structures.

Panic spread like wildfire.

"THE CITY IS UNDER ATTACK!"

Throughout the streets, human soldiers rampaged, cutting down any non-human they encountered.

At least two dozen foreign merchants lay slain, their lifeblood staining the cobbled streets.

The outcasts of society had had enough.

They fought back.

The city was now a maelstrom of blood and fire.

And there was no stopping it.