Chapter: 7 who is this woman surname Mu?

The moment their eyes met, the battle began.

No words were exchanged. No warnings. Just a blur of power.

Heaven and earth twisted.

Emperor Lu Wuyue and Ancestor Mo Xuan clashed like gods of an ancient age, their every strike sending shockwaves that carved canyons into the land. Lightning tore the sky. Flames and spatial fractures ripped through the battlefield.

For an hour, the world watched from a distance.

No one dared to step within ten kilometers of their battle—not humans, not demons. Even the fiercest warriors held their breath. This was a war beyond mortals.

And then… it happened.

A severed hand fell to the ground, blackened and twitching.

All eyes turned.

It was the Demon Ancestor's hand.

But before victory could be claimed, the camera of fate shifted—

The emperor, though standing, was battered beyond recognition. His golden robes torn, blood soaking his chest, breathing ragged and shallow.

Across from him, Mo Xuan raised his remaining hand, eyes blazing with fury, ready to strike again.

But Lu Wuyue spoke—arrogant, cold, and unbending.

> "You've already lost an arm… and you still wish to continue?"

His voice cut through the smoke like a divine blade.

The demon froze.

Looking down at his fallen limb, he scowled. His aura flared again, but not with confidence—with frustration.

> "Hmph… If I hadn't just broken through… if I'd stabilized my foundation… and if you hadn't burned your lifeforce essence..."

The emperor interrupted, still standing tall despite his condition.

> "If, if, if. If you still want to continue… be my guest."

He smirked faintly through the blood.

> "But know this… even if it costs me what's left… I'll take your other arm next."

Mo Xuan's red eyes narrowed, rage flooding his veins. But in that moment, even he had to admit—

He had lost this round.

With a guttural growl, the Demon Ancestor stepped back, demonic qi swirling around him.

> "You're alive for now, Lu Wuyue… but mark my words."

> "This world won't always favor you. I'll return—and next time, I'll take your head."

His voice echoed through the sky as he vanished into the void.

Seeing their master retreat, the demon army panicked, falling into chaos.

> "Retreat!"

> "The Ancestor is withdrawing!"

What followed was a wave of cheering from the human soldiers.

> "The Emperor has won!"

> "Glory to the Empire!"

> "Long live His Majesty!"

From the rear lines, General Lin Hanyuan—the Level 7 warlord—rushed forward with several elite guards.

But the moment he approached...

The emperor collapsed.

> "Your Majesty!"

Lin caught him mid-fall, seeing the extent of the internal wounds—his lifeforce dimming fast.

Clenching his jaw, he turned to the troops and bellowed:

> "No one speaks of this."

> "Any soldier who witnessed His Majesty's condition is sworn to secrecy. Violation will be seen as treason."

He motioned to the guards.

> "Escort the Emperor to the Royal Medical Pavilion—immediately!"

As the unconscious emperor was carried away, the cheers of victory masked the truth:

The price of that triumph… might be too steep.

The shadows twisted unnaturally as Ancestor Mo Xuan limped through the veil of darkness guarding his lair. Demonic qi leaked from his severed arm, staining the ancient blackstone beneath him.

He had returned… in disgrace.

Each echoing footstep rang with shame. The silence of the chamber pressed down like chains—until suddenly—

A voice slithered through the dark.

Soft. Cold. Beautiful. Lethal.

> "So even after all that… you failed."

Mo Xuan froze.

His heart skipped a beat.

From the far end of the lair, a figure stepped forth. Her skin was pale as untouched snow, her hair long and black, flowing like midnight silk. She wore a deep blue gown, embroidered with floating silver sigils that shimmered faintly in the darkness.

Her eyes… they weren't human.

They were like mirrors of frozen lakes—beautiful, emotionless, terrifying.

> A direct descendant of the Mu Family.

Mo Xuan dropped to one knee instantly, trembling.

> "M-Miss Mu… I did all I could. But that wretch, Lu Wuyue—he burned his life essence. I had just broken through. I hadn't stabilized my cultivation. He caught me—"

Her voice sliced through his defense like a sword.

> "Excuses."

She took one step forward.

> "Excuse after excuse… Is this what you offer us?"

Her expression didn't change—but her presence intensified, pressing down like a heavenly mountain.

> "If you can't finish a half-dead emperor, how do you expect to earn your place among the Mu Family's Outer Bloodline Legion?"

Mo Xuan's lips parted again—but he couldn't speak. His body was drenched in cold sweat.

> "We gave you power. Status. A glimpse of the Upper Realm."

> "And you repay us… with failure?"

Her words were soft, but each one struck deeper than a blade.

Then, her tone turned final—cold as death.

> "Return again empty-handed… and the Mu Family will reclaim what it gave."

With that, she va

nished—without a sound, without a ripple—leaving only silence and dread behind.

Mo Xuan slowly rose, his body shaking.

> "Lu Wuyue… you survived today…"

> "But next time… I won't come alone."