In the western frontier of the Primeval Demonic Realm, cold moonlight shone upon azure armor, white frost reflected across a thousand miles, beacon fires spread, and all under heaven was in chaos.
The Heavenly Demon army stretched its camps for a hundred miles, powerful demonic qi surging, heavy as mountains.
Within the commander's tent, the First Crown Prince of the Heavenly Demons sat quietly, his gaze fixed on one secret report after another before his eyes, his expression growing increasingly grave.
Outside the tent, Azure-Armored Army soldiers stood still in airtight formation, guarding the commander's tent layer upon layer.
Not far from the commander's tent stood two equally majestic tents, arranged to either side. The terrifying pressure they emitted was enough to shake the heart.
Within the camp, the Heavenly Demon soldiers unanimously chose to avoid those two tents. The Eight Legions' fierce reputation was known throughout the world; even Devil Race soldiers were unwilling to provoke them.
At that moment, a man dressed in silver-white official robes walked over from afar, wearing a black-and-white gauze cap adorned with a touch of cinnabar.
In the man's hand was a black sword, dark as ink. Still sheathed, its aura was completely concealed.
The cold wind brushed past, sending dust flying. The man's steps were neither hurried nor slow, his aura tranquil. In the blink of an eye, he had entered the great camp.
Yet when the man entered the camp, not a single person in the entire Heavenly Demon camp saw his figure. Such a strange sight was astonishing.
Within the camp, the man stopped. His gaze swept across the three tents. After a moment, he withdrew his eyes and walked toward the commander's tent in the middle.
Before the commander's tent, the man approached step by step. Outside, the Azure-Armored