Although the floodwater was blocked, the flow still remained, quickly spreading to the gates of the Citadel Monastery. Seen from above, the wall had an octagonal shape, surrounding the entire Whisperwind village. Outside the citadel, water was everywhere, engulfing the foothills of Cinderfang Mountain.
However, thanks to the solid wall, the village remained safe. The only inconvenience was that no one could leave, as it was surrounded by the raging waters.
This situation lasted until evening. At Guardian Temple, as dusk fell...
"Drip... drip..."
"It's raining again. The weather has been so unpredictable lately—erratic rain and shine." The voice came from a quiet corner of the temple. It was the old man from earlier—the village chief—sitting on the throne with his peculiar pet. Alone, he held a gourd of wine, drinking to soothe his sorrows without food, making his companion fussy.
"I've lived this long, yet now, when I wish to rest, I cannot." The old man groaned, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.
"Are you weary of this life of endless struggle?" he asked the strange little beast that always followed him.
"Elder Theron, no one forced you to fight. You intervened because you couldn't bear to see the people suffer under the demons," the creature replied.
"Damnable Obsidian Drake! You don't know the first thing about flattery!" Theron scolded.
"I know only how to battle monsters, not how to flatter!" the Obsidian Drake retorted.
"Still... thank you for standing by me through all the storms on this path," Theron sighed.
"In times like these, it seems we can't simply stand aside and let the Abyssal Lords run rampant." His gaze grew distant, weighed down by unspoken thoughts.
Footsteps approached from behind. Perhaps sensing this, the elder fell silent, concealing his true identity.
"Greetings, old master!" Drakon said respectfully.
"Greetings, young one," Theron replied.
Without hesitation, Drakon moved to the front of the temple, observing the four gates of the Citadel Monastery. His worry was plain to see.
"What troubles you so?" Theron asked.
"There's no use hiding it. My brothers are out there in the storm, close to danger. I can't rest easy here," Drakon confessed.
"Ah... but you and Proud Heaven are crucial to this place. It wouldn't do for you to leave. Focus on your duty—I trust they'll be fine," Theron reassured him.
"Yes... thank you for your wisdom, elder."
After a few more polite words, Drakon summoned flames beneath his feet and soared to the top of Guardian Temple. From a height of a thousand meters, he could survey all of Whisperwind, standing vigilant alongside BlackFang.
As he glanced back at where the elder had been sitting, he dismissed his curiosity and returned to his task.
"Whoosh... whoosh..." The wind howled through the temple's towering statues.
"The eastern gate is the weakest point of the Citadel Monastery. Obsidian Drake—take me there!" Theron's voice boomed as he flew through the storm, his beard and hair whipping wildly. He reached into the bag strapped to his bamboo staff, pulling out a crimson kashaya robe. As he donned it, his presence became awe-inspiring.
"Welcome back, Venerable Saint Theron!" The Obsidian Drake roared, its small form expanding into a towering beast, its platinum scales gleaming under the storm. A single horn crowned its forehead, and armored plates covered its body.
Ignoring the lashing rain, Theron and the Obsidian Drake streaked toward the eastern gate.
At the Eastern Gate of the Citadel Monastery...
"The rain won't stop, and the water keeps rising. The citadel is holding, but if this continues, Whisperwind will flood."
A tall man paced atop the gate, his impatience clear. His attire marked him as a disciple of the Celestial Monastery—Volthide, leader of the Lightning Corps, stood with twenty warriors at his back.
"Strange... the flood persists, yet the demonic presence we sensed hasn't awakened," one warrior noted.
"That makes it even more dangerous. Stay sharp—we can't afford a surprise attack," Volthide ordered.
"Volthide! Look—something's moving beneath the water!"
"Not just one... dozens of shadows!"
"ROAR—!"
A monstrous shriek erupted as a hulking creature burst from the depths, its maw lined with jagged teeth.
"CRACK—!"
A bolt of lightning struck the beast, sending it recoiling.
"Disgusting fiend—DIE!" The Lightning Corps unleashed a barrage of strikes, driving the creature back. Though its scorched hide twitched, it wasn't dead.
For a moment, silence returned—then the water churned again. Hundreds more emerged, their dark forms crowding the surface.