Nine Venoms Sect Founder

At the border of a fallen divine kingdom, five hiveminds, each over 300 meters tall, drifted in the sky. With dozens of writhing black tentacles stretching out of a dark-green brain, the mountainous hiveminds conjured pictures of extra-terrestrial entities leaping out from sheer fiction to corrupt the world of men. But if their unprecedented shape was worrying enough, the obscenely large and thick lips at the bottom of their brain-shaped heads, made even deities shiver. 

Trapped between those horrible beasts, an androgynous youth dressed in a long white skirt and bandages of golden chains that left much of his skin exposed, danced passed the sweeping tentacles and baleful gases as he soared toward the sky. "Heeeeeeeee!" A shrill cry thundered from the hiveminds and, uniting their sentience in one collective consciousness, they cast a shapeless barrier across the area—blocking the youth's escape. Sensing the noxious energies flowing out of the invisible wall, Xerzan recoiled and twirled back to his original spot, still surrounded by the five abominations.

Independently, those creatures possessed early-stage Empyrean-Monarch-strength. At the fourth-level of the Heavenly God Realm, Xerzan could defeat early-stage Monarchs. Now at the fifth, he should have nothing to fear from the freaks. A pity that once they joined forces, although their destructive powers didn't increase by much, their defensive skills left no room for breakthroughs. 

For three days and three nights, Xerzan clashed with the creatures, never once gaining an advantage. Annoyed…he'd never felt more annoyed. The more time he lost here, the lower his chances became. He couldn't let this drag on any longer. "Repugnant vermin, stop wasting my time!" With veins pulsing on his temple, Xerzan raised his right hand. Silver light gushed out of his form, the broken celestial houses and monuments nearly two kilometers below rose into the sky, morphing into metallic structures of various shapes. Thousands of swords, battle-axes, war-hammers and chakrams filled the heavens—aiming for the hiveminds. Dark-purple Devil Essence gushed out of Xerzan, and underneath him a silver spear formed. Riding his metallic spear like a surfboard, the androgynous deity lowered his hand—unleashing the Mystery of Metal on his foes. 

It is no secret that Mystery cultivation was the Divine Path's primary weakness. Starting with the Immemorial Era, Silav, the Serpent Lord, was the only recorded expert that cultivated a Mandate from scratch. This didn't take Agiri, Nakula, and other secretive experts into account, but regardless of the case or talent, no God could cultivate a Mystery to Mandate-level without at least 10,000 years of hard work. One can therefore understand why Xerzan, who reached the sublime-state of Metal in 3,000 years, only a step away from his first mandate, could trigger reckless assassination attempts. 

To protect himself, Xerzan often suppressed the might of his eyes and mysteries, relying on his Devil Essence and peerless foundation to fight above his realm. But now he couldn't afford to waste another second. In a rain of silver light, the armada of infantry weapons dropped on the five hiveminds, blasting through their toxic barriers to stab, hack, and ram into their flesh!

Dark-green fog poured out of the hiveminds' grotesque mouths, melting Xerzan's projectiles before they nailed their target—almost. Forcing its way past the noxious clouds, the lingering metallic dust flowed into the abominations' mouths but butted against their internal defenses—failing to harm the worms. Undisturbed, Xerzan pressed on. A deafening shockwave thundered from his spear, but by the time the sound reached the hiveminds, shrouded in Devil Essence, Xerzan had pushed past the toxic cloud and appeared before one of them already. Lowering his right hand, Xerzan altered the structure of the lingering rust, shaping it into titanium spears that lunged toward the hiveminds' inner-flesh walls—stabbing them from the inside out!

Not leaving anything to chance, Xerzan wrapped his left fist in an orb of pure Devil Essence, and punched at his target—setting it ablaze with an explosion of malignant energies. The nanoscopic worm's regeneration powers kicked into gears, challenging the diabolic forces to restore the mend the hivemind's injuries. Xerzan had two choices, use this opening to escape and descend on the First Range, or bring the fight to an end: he chose the latter. 

"Devil Armament!" The coat of foul essence hardened around Xerzan's flawless skin, becoming a skintight dark-purple armor with spikes protruding from the youth's demonic helmet. Two sets of chains wrapped Xerzan's gauntlets, but as if animated with a will of their own, the chains unfolded and rushed at the hiveminds—attempting to capture them all. Blasts of green flames and tentacle slashes blocked the chains' offensive, but no barrier could stop Xerzan's clawed hands from tearing through his target's regeneration process and ruin the worm's safety. For the first time since its birth, the Salvation Worm felt threatened, but a voice, Harun's voice, echoed from within—fueling it with fanatical adoration. 

Unbeknown to Xerzan, an aura of pure madness erupted from the nanoscopic worm's body. Using a wavelength unique to Salvation Worms, it spread sound messages to its peers across the Second Range, warning them of the threat, urging them to grow faster and make up for its failures then…self-detonated! Too fast, too close, even Xerzan's overpowering body couldn't survive the Salvation Worm's sacrifice. But as death seemed ready to harvest the Stronghold Master's life, his blue double pupils gleamed like an adularescent gemstone. The time flow across a 30 meters-radius stopped instantly. Neither Xerzan nor the hiveminds could move, but unlike his opponents, the Stronghold Master retained his consciousness and reaction time. Thus, when time started flowing again, Xerzan teleported out of the explosion's range. 

But never did he expect that the first worm's move gave the remaining ones the same suicidal hope, and by the time he evaded the first bomb, four more were coming his way—overlapping in a chain-reaction to unleash destruction few Monarchs could survive. As dazzling as toxic, the green, exploding sun left by the hiveminds' sacrifice carried enough energy to wipe out the Second Range. Perhaps the other mutants could stop the spread, but by the time they did, too many would have died already.

Xerzan didn't care for the mortal casualties, but he certainly didn't plan to fall here. Arching his head back, the youth opened his mouth—activating one of his strongest, most reliable skills: "Divine Power: Devouring!"

The World Devouring Serpent clan's legendary Divine Power kicked into gear, siphoning all the energies driving the explosion into Xerzan's belly. With no more hindrance on his path, Xerzan swept the Second Range, tracking the location and deeds of the other mutants. Coming to a simple conclusion, the Barbaric Demon Stronghold Master summoned a bronze bell, ringing it to contact a certain someone. 

"The mutants are gathering in hordes of 1,000 packs each. This isn't something I can handle and I fear that the worst has yet to come. If packs can unite as one Monarch-tier abomination, the Devil-only knows what a horde can accomplish. I will send you all I've experienced, then descend on the First Range," Xerzan told the bell, and after a moment of silence, a grave male voice answered him. 

"Fine. The third Imperial Cave has been stirring for a while. We believe His Majesty will soon wake up from the Dreamland. If need be, he will take actions. In the meantime, we Sage Kings will investigate the situation." Nodding in approval, Xerzan cleft open a space portal, crossing thousands of kilometers to appear above the Soul Refining Hall's headquarters—burning ruins looted to the last dime awaited him.

...

Meanwhile, the comatose Harun's eyelids trembled—marking his imminent awakening.