Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 874: The Duel of the Twins

A single open-palm strike to the chest.

Not loud. Not wild.

Just absolute.

The wind user’s body arched. Cracks webbed out across his frame. Madness fled his eyes for the briefest instant, just enough to realize he’d made a fatal mistake.

Then he burst apart in a clean, centered explosion of earth qi.

No blood. No scream.

Only ash, scattered to the corrupted wind.

Rongtai lowered his hand and breathed out, like the storm had never touched him.

His voice was quiet. Final.

”You reached the Spirit Tempering stage, but not enlightenment. All you cultivated… was madness.”

He turned, robes billowing with the last of the dispersing wind, and walked forward toward the god.

Like a cliff stepping into battle.

…

And on the far end of the battlefield… two sisters who loved each other dearly just minutes ago clashed.

Serika’s body was wrapped in living flame, hair wild, eyes storming with grief and fury.

Nalai countered with precise, flowing movements, her water forming crescents, spears, and crashing shields.

Serika responded with a flurry of unrelenting blows, which her sister parried with precise deflections.

Her movements were elegant, a dance of death drawn from oceans that were both serene and powerful. Each strike flowed into the next with unnerving precision.

They were equals in talent.

But they were opposites in soul.

”My offer still stands!” Nalai hissed between barrages. Her voice was laced with frustration, but her eyes shimmered with something far more desperate. “You muscle-brained idiot! I might hate our father, but I love you dearly! I still consider you my other half! Let’s abandon this broken world and explore the universe together, we can even take Quinlan with us!”

Serika’s answer was flame.

A roaring, relentless tide of flame that refused to pause, to grieve, to break.

”Who even are you…?” she whispered under her breath, even as her fists punched through waves.

”You betrayed your very world!”

Her foot struck the ground, launching her forward like a meteor. “So I’ll burn a wretched parasite like you out of it!”

Fire met water in a storm of steam and light, the entire battlefield trembling beneath their duel.

Nalai’s fingers carved sharp arcs through the air as she materialized one of her strongest combat arts. It cost so much qi and had such an external effect that this might as well have been a proper magic spell. R̃άŊỒВЕṧ

Dozens—if not hundreds—of water blades burst outward as a result.

It should have overwhelmed anyone.

It had always overwhelmed anyone.

But Serika didn’t dodge.

She stepped forward and rose.

Flames erupted beneath her in the form of twin plumes of pressurized fire that launched her into the darkening sky. The air around her distorted, warping into a glowing tunnel of ascending heat, vaporizing the incoming blades before they could touch her.

Up and up she soared until, from one moment to the next, she stilled.

Suspended high above, her body arched. Knees bent. Qi ignited like a miniature sun.

And in that breathless moment, Serika closed her eyes.

She had never used this technique in battle. Not once.

Form V of her Vermillion Execution style had always been her ace, locked away like a dagger behind her heart.

It was too dangerous. Far too final.

She’d trained it in solitude, whispered its name only into fire.

She never imagined she’d use it on her own sister.

Pain bloomed in her chest. But they were her fuel now. The storm in her soul aligned, and fire obeyed.

The air screamed.

Her heel lit with condensed crimson qi, a molten blade of death forged from grief and sorrow, but also from purpose and loyalty to those who deserved her respect. It glowed with vengeance, burned with love, and promised finality.

And then…

”Crimson Guillotine!”

She shouted and fell.

The sky split behind her, flame coalescing into a single, focused vector as she became destruction incarnate. She didn’t descend like a prodigious, high-tier cultivator.

She came down like a hammer of judgment.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

Then the pressure plummeted.

The temperature spiked.

Stone cracked.

Metal warped.

Nalai’s eyes widened in disbelief.

For the first time in decades, if not centuries, she felt fear.

”This… isn’t possible!” she breathed.

The words barely escaped her lips before she caught herself, raising both hands as qi burst forth violently.

A vortex of water erupted around her, swirling into a tidal fortress. She poured every shred of her power into it, every whisper of qi, every ounce of control she’d mastered across centuries of diligent training. It wasn’t a shield.

It was a maelstrom dense enough to crush mountains. Deep enough to drown armies.

But none of that mattered before Serika’s overwhelming, brilliant strike.

The instant Crimson Guillotine struck…

*HISSSHHHH—BOOOOOOM!*

The shield evaporated on contact.

The explosion didn’t just roar but howled, ripping a scorched trench through the earth like a scar from the underworld. It didn’t blast outward. It drilled downward, carving through stone, metal, and spirit alike.

At the trench’s terminus…

Nalai’s body was struck.

But before the full force could crush her spine into ruin, a blur tore across the battlefield.

The air screamed as a windburst flattened the last of the arena, thunder booming in its wake.

Venthros landed in front of Nalai with his four arms raised.

The Crimson Guillotine met his block. Flames raged. Pressure thundered.

And then… held.

The god’s wrists smoked, a thin scorch marking his lower palm like a scratch across stone.

He exhaled a slow whistle. “Now that… was a real strike.”

Serika landed in a crouch across from him, panting once before forcing her spine to straighten, her heel still glowing red from the kick.

Behind Venthros, Nalai staggered to one knee, coughing up blood with a pale face. “Forgive me… I was careless.”

Venthros didn’t even look at her.

”Apologies are worthless. Be better.”

Nalai clenched her jaw and nodded, shame and resolve warring behind her crystal blue eyes.

Across the field, Rykar dragged himself upright with one arm, bloody and battered. His breath was a rasp as he wheezed, “I’m sorry… I should’ve held the monster back.”

Rongtai appeared silently beside him, catching the old man’s shoulder with a solid grip and helping him stay upright.

But Serika didn’t answer.

Her gaze was fixed on Nalai… or what remained of her once beloved twin.

But the longer she watched, the more her thoughts changed. Quickly, the grief inside Serika had burned away into nothing.

All that remained was rage.

Boiling, overwhelming wrath toward the woman she once cherished as her other half.

She rose fully, flames coiling around her shoulders like a battle-cloak. The air rippled with heat. Her arms flexed as she took a slow, precise breath.

Her voice, when it came, cut through the silence.

”Apologies can wait, Father.”

Her eyes glowed like molten metal.

”Let’s turn these two into a pile of smoking flesh.”

*FWOOM!*

Then, suddenly, a new pulse exploded across the battlefield. It was not flame, nor wind. Something else. Something deeper.

Quinlan sat cross-legged in the distance with flames, mist, earth, and crackling air swirling around him in a storm of impossible harmony.

His eyes were still closed.

But the world around him had begun to change.