Yet, so many years had passed, both Long Zhantian and Hei Mingba had assumed Ashura had forgotten about the Demon Seal. Especially now, with the Asura Clan holding an unparalleled status in the Demon Realm—Ashura King himself being the foremost power—why would he bother breaking the seal?

Others might not know that Ashura had achieved the Demon Emperor realm, but Long Zhantian and Hei Mingba understood it perfectly. A Demon Emperor was undoubtedly a top-tier powerhouse in the current Demon Realm. But when those true demons finally descended, what would a Demon Emperor amount to?

They remembered that in the Primordial Era, when the demons descended, even the Great Witches, beings vastly more powerful than Demon Emperors, perished at their hands. The power of those demons was terrifying; one couldn't be sure that even Demon Sovereigns wouldn't be commonplace among them.

They simply couldn't believe Ashura would jeopardize his current lofty position just to break the seal. He had no apparent need to do so.

Hei Mingba had always strived to maintain the balance of power within the Demon Realm precisely to avoid conflict. Who knew what Ashura would do once a true battle erupted?

However, this time, the conflict was triggered by Zhan Bulasi interfering. Hei Mingba hadn't expected Ashura to be so utterly fixated on breaking the seal, which is why he had tacitly allowed this fight to occur. Yet, he hadn't anticipated underestimating the sheer hunger Ashura harbored to shatter the barrier.

Long Zhantian and Hei Mingba struggled to comprehend it: Ashura, someone who hadn't even been born in the Primordial Era, merely the descendant of some unfortunate demon left behind in the Demon Realm, who clawed his way to the position of Asura King through sheer strength—all this effort just to break a seal? What was the point of it all?

Though bewildered and unable to grasp the motivation, one thing was starkly clear in their minds: they had to stop Ashura, no matter what.

Looking at the blood-drenched Long Zhantian, Ashura suddenly spoke, "Long Zhantian, we've shared some history over the years. I truly do not wish to kill you. Step aside. I promise you, even if my clan’s armies descend upon the Demon Realm, you and Hei Mingba will face absolutely no harm!"

"Heh, I never expected the cruel and merciless Ashura to display such humanity. Ashura, the fact that you still care about Old Hei's and my safety shows there is feeling left in your heart. That means you possess human emotion. If that's the case, you are no longer a true demon—so why insist on breaking the seal?" Hearing Ashura’s words, Long Zhantian showed no surprise; everything felt as it should be.

Though the Demon Race now was far more brutal than humankind, they still retained vestiges of human emotion. This was because many among them carried the bloodline of the Witches; they were not entirely fiends.

Only those legendary demons were utterly devoid of sentiment, acting purely on instinct and base desire.

"This is my destiny; I cannot refuse. Long Zhantian, move aside. I truly do not wish to kill you!" Ashura’s voice began to chill, as if these notions of emotion irritated him. Yet, deep down, he genuinely recoiled at the thought of slaying Long Zhantian. He was of the Asura Clan, profoundly lonely in this Demon Realm. Hei Mingba and Long Zhantian, despite being his adversaries, had been companions for tens of thousands of years—intimate confidants who were the only ones who truly understood him. How could he bear to kill such kindred spirits?

Because of this internal reluctance, Ashura had long avoided a fight to the death with Hei Mingba and Long Zhantian. At times, he even questioned himself: was breaking the seal truly a good thing?

But the memory ingrained in his bones, the inheritance flowing in his blood, compelled him. He had to break the seal. He was a demon, and his kin were the rightful masters of this land. He was bound to rescue them.

"Ashura, if you are truly set on breaking the seal, then you must step over my body first!" Seeing the hesitation flicker in Ashura’s eyes, Long Zhantian sighed softly. You have your mission, but do I not have my own burden?

Once the demons descended upon the Demon Realm, they would sweep through it with devastating speed. With their current strength, how could they possibly resist the demonic invasion? Once they conquered the entire realm, they would surely turn their sights toward the Human World. After the disappearance of Great God Yinglong and the subsequent vanishing of the Immortals, there was no one left in the Human World capable of standing against the demons. Soon, perhaps the entire Three Realms would fall—a prospect he absolutely could not allow.

The Witches were the precursors of humanity; the Witches were humanity’s guardians. He was a descendant of the Witches. Even though humanity had long forgotten the Witches, even trying to eradicate them, he still could not stand by and watch humans be slaughtered. That was the mission of the Witches…

Even if it meant death, he would stop Ashura’s actions.

Seeing the look of grim resolve in Long Zhantian’s eyes, Ashura let out a faint sigh. "If that is the case, then do not blame me for being impolite!"

As he spoke, a blood-red light began to glow faintly in Ashura’s hand. Immediately, an ancient, long sword materialized in his grip. It was entirely obsidian black yet radiated a vivid, sanguine light.

The hilt was shaped like a demon’s head. The moment Long Zhantian saw the sword, his expression shifted slightly.

Abi Sword.

This was the Abi Sword—the very blade legendary for slaying countless Great Witches? It was rumored to have been the personal sword of Abiraja, the King of the Demon Race. How could it be in Ashura’s hands?

Long Zhantian was filled with shock. This was a demonic sword renowned as an equal to the Primordial Divine Artifacts—a true demonic sword, not the inferior imitations they forged themselves!

Witnessing the emergence of this devil blade, Long Zhantian knew his chances this time were slim to none. In terms of raw power, he was already inferior to Ashura. His only reliance was his physical body, but no matter how formidable his physique, against the Abi Sword, it would be like soft tofu. What defense could he possibly mount?

Yet, even so, there was not the slightest hint of retreat on Long Zhantian’s face. Even in death, he could not let Ashura take another step closer to Qin Mountain…

"Ao…" A dragon’s roar erupted from Long Zhantian’s throat. Immediately, strands of black light radiated across his body, and his form began to expand rapidly. In the blink of an eye, he had ballooned into a colossal demonic dragon form, over a thousand zhang long, resembling a great lizard but bearing four pairs of wings upon its back…

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