Chapter 103: The Demon Race’s Probe

On a tranquil morning as the red sun rose,

golden sunlight poured over the land, draping the world in warmth.

That day, humanity still lingered in dreams of paradise. The world seemed peaceful and serene.

Yet beneath this illusion of calm, a great crisis loomed for the human world.

At the edge of the human realm, a gap had opened in the sealing barrier—a breach that led to a mysterious world, home of the Demon Race.

The Demon Race was a tribe of powerful and ruthless beings, always hungering to conquer the human world and rule over it.

Today, an elite force of a thousand demon soldiers poured out from the breach. Dressed in black armor and wielding razor-sharp weapons, their expressions were cold and menacing.

These were the best of the Demon Race—well-trained and deadly, sent to infiltrate the human world and gather vital intelligence.

And so they would plunge humanity into a fathomless darkness.

Led by Qatar, a commander at the peak of the Demon Emperor Realm, the demon elites surged forward into the world of men.

Their disciplined steps thundered as one, shaking the earth as they marched through the shattered sealing barrier.

Their eyes gleamed with icy resolve—there would be no mercy, no pity, only victory and glory. They had waited far too long for this moment.

As a swirl of crimson smoke faded, Qatar and his thousand-strong demon legion had already slipped silently into the human realm.

At that very moment, several dozen Sword King Realm cultivators stood guard at the barrier, still blurry with sleep, barely aware of the danger until it was too late. Swords were drawn in alarm.

But in their shock and disbelief, they were taken off guard—demon soldiers dispatched them in an instant, slicing their throats before a cry could escape.

One cultivator, with his dying breath, managed to send out an urgent warning—or perhaps Qatar allowed the message to spread, sowing chaos and fear among humans.

Alarms were blaring throughout the human world, but the people clung to their illusions, believing that problems belonged to someone else, that disaster could never touch them.

They had no inkling of the disaster descending on them or the fate awaiting their world.

Qatar gazed into the distance, brow furrowed, unable to hide his excitement. “After all these millennia… I never thought I’d set foot on this land again in my lifetime. The thrill is overwhelming. I owe His Majesty for granting me the honor of leading the vanguard!”

“Duersa, you’ll lead five hundred elites. Split up and move quickly. I want this Sword Qi Continent scouted out as soon as possible. Report everything to His Majesty.” Qatar took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back.

“As you command, Commander Qatar. I’ll get a handle on things right away,” Duersa replied, casting a look around. “Warriors of the Demon Race, follow me—let’s have some real fun!”

Five hundred demon warriors at the peak of the Demon King Realm followed Duersa, marching triumphantly toward the nearest human settlements.

【Ranks within the Demon Race: Demon Soldier, Demon Warrior, Demon General, Demon King, Demon Emperor, Demon Saint, Demon Sovereign, Demon God. Each stage is split into early, middle, late, and peak.】

Before long, Duersa’s elite squad struck at border villages while most humans still slept. The attack came swift and silent.

Suddenly the air was thick with flames and screams. Many were killed in their sleep, throats slashed before they could even understand. The stench of blood, smoke, and mingled cries of terror choked the dawn.

The carnage spread like wildfire. Demon soldiers reveled in the slaughter, finding cruel delight in the desperate pleas of powerless villagers at their feet.

Village after village was wiped out. Soon, even Duersa tired of the sport. He sneered down at those begging for mercy. “Thousands of years, and humans haven’t changed a bit—still weak and spineless as ever.”

“Shut the gates. Leave no one alive!” With a wave of his hand, Duersa produced a handkerchief and wiped his hands clean.

The demon warriors moved without hesitation at Duersa’s order, swiftly killing all who remained. Not even livestock were spared.

………………

Meanwhile, elsewhere with Qatar—

Qatar led the rest of his forces to storm a small border city, capturing every soul inside.

“You’re the leader here? Kneel before me and I’ll let your people live. What do you say?” Qatar leaned forward, watching the soot-stained figure before him with amusement.

The respected old City Lord glanced over his shoulder at his trembling family, disciples, and the gathered townsfolk—all burning with resentment and fear. He glared at the man astride his horse.

He knew kneeling would disgrace him forever, yet the spark of resistance burned in his heart. Sadly, he lacked the strength to face these demons. He wasn’t ready to die—if he could save these innocents by humbling himself, then so be it.

“You promise?” The City Lord locked eyes with Qatar, voice grim.

Qatar smiled wickedly. “A king never breaks his word.”

“Very well. I trust you’ll keep your promise.” The burdens of fate buckled his knees—he was about to kneel.

But suddenly, someone lunged from behind, driving a dagger deep into his heart—a betrayal from the disciple he valued most.

The young man’s eyes were red with fury. “Teacher, you mustn’t kneel! If you do, the Human Race’s backbone snaps. We’d rather die on our feet than live on our knees!” he cried, voice stripped raw.

Pride flickered in the City Lord’s eyes as he smiled faintly and closed them for the last time.

No time for grief, the young man seized the dagger and charged at Qatar, roaring, “Damn you demons! Go back to your own hellish world!”

Qatar flickered into motion, snatching the boy by the throat. He stared at him, genuinely amused. “Not bad, kid. You’ve got guts. But our two races are fated—one will be wiped from the earth.”

With a dull crack, the young man’s skull burst in Qatar’s grip. He tossed the body aside without a care.

“Kill the rest. No survivors!” Qatar turned away, calmly wiping blood from his hands with a handkerchief.

A wicked look spread among the demon soldiers. The women, children, and elders on site shrank back in terror.

One man stepped forward, fists clenched, and shouted, “Brothers and sisters, let’s fight them! Even if we die, we won’t be slaughtered like lambs!”

He raised his arm and a chorus of voices rallied behind him.

At this moment, fear burned away inside the crowd. They armed themselves and surged toward the demons, choosing desperate resistance over submission.

But it was a massacre from start to finish. The last to fall was a lone child—when the flames burned out, nothing but ashes remained.