In the abyssal expanse of the Void Sea, where reality itself unravels into fragmented stars and colossal meteorites, an unnatural landmass emerged. What was once a void as empty as oblivion birthed cities that spanned from humble settlements accommodating tens of thousands to vast metropolises housing billions.

Forty thousand years ago, when this region held not even the crumble of a stone, a lone wanderer discovered domain portals—swirling vortexes reminiscent of the Abyssal Sea's chaotic currents. Over decades he explored these interdimensional gateways, finding each led to fertile realms teeming with exotic species and abundant spiritual energy ideal for cultivation.

Word spread like wildfire through the void. As time stretched into millennia, seven dominant races ascended while ancient titans from various factions relocated shattered stars here to construct fortresses upon meteorites. The landmass formed by these celestial fragments became known as the Vale of Void.

Now, the Vale's domain portals bustle with cultivators trading rare materials and spiritual stones between dimensions. Among its most striking features is a crimson monolith ten times larger than an immortal island. Perched atop it looms a fortress resembling some primal beast coiled in eternal slumber—a bastion for thunder-adepts of the ancient, granted to Ferrel by the race's elders.

In a chamber paved with sapphire crystal that crackled with live lightning, Ferrel lounged in opulence. Six ethereal beauties from his own served him—five deliberately chosen disciples seeking enlightenment through servitude, and one seventeen-year-old whose allure was matched only by her desperation to grasp thunder's secrets.

"Master," she purred in that voice which could melt stone, "when will you teach me the next secret?"

Ferrel's fingers lingered on her silken back as his mind drifted. After their disastrous campaign in the Abyssal Sea, he'd been left speculating about the mysterious deliberations between Beverly and her allies—speculations that now drove him to await a critical summit.

A bloodied woman was dragged into the chamber next, shackled with spear-pierced limbs. "You think my race won't exact vengeance for what you've done?" she spat through crimson-streaked lips before Ferrel's lightning seared her soul.

"Stone," he murmured to his lieutenant Reid, who watched with clinical detachment as the captive's body paled into deathly pallor. The Vale's beauty masks its cruelty, much like the woman beside him—her laughter shrill with morbid fascination.

Yet just as Ferrel prepared to extract location from her soul, reality itself fractured. A figure emerged through spatial ripples—the very man whose blood Ferrel had spilled in the Abyssal Sea:

"Stonemind!" Ferrel's grin widened. "Just when I was beginning to wonder where you'd escaped to..."