Who Stirred the Ink-Wash Painting

These demon leaders all knew that at the other end of the tri-colored vortex, Lord Tutu was leading his men in a bloody battle, awaiting their arrival.

In another patch of midair beneath the enormous vortex, a burly man draped in a blood-red cloak stood with his hands behind his back, gazing up at the swirling vortex overhead.

His long black hair fell casually down his back, wild and disheveled. His gaze was as deep as an abyss or a sea; it seemed that a single glance from him could drag anyone into bottomless darkness.

His towering body gave off the impression of boundless strength, as though he could uproot mountains and overturn peaks.

More than twenty people stood behind him on either side. The weakest among them was a demon general, while the five nearest the man in the red cloak radiated the unmistakable aura of demon marshals.

Yet from the respectful looks they cast toward the red-cloaked man before them, it was clear that every one of them was deeply humble.

"Why is there still no movement from the other side?"

The red-cloaked man looked up at the vortex in the sky. His voice was cold as iron and ice, devoid of emotion, giving others the sense that he regarded all life beneath heaven with utter indifference.

After the five people behind him exchanged glances, a bald old man among them bowed and said respectfully.

"Lord Demon Emperor, the message Tutu sent back before that passage collapsed stated that it would be today. There can be no mistake about that.

"He asked us to attack at all costs today. Based on the intensity of the spatial fluctuations in the surrounding area stirred up by the large number of demon soldiers crossing the barrier, he will determine the exact