The flames of war had finally died down.
In a temporary encampment nestled among the western slopes of Mount Heng, the smell of blood and smoke still hung in the air. Beneath a makeshift wooden shelter, herbs were piled beside groaning wounded. Outside the tents, the sky hung low and gray, and the wind lashed at the tattered banners—moaning like a warning of what was yet to come.
The battlefield had left them devastated. The Twelve Stars, each bearing wounds, had returned with heavy steps. The Celestial Lord had not shown himself since their defeat. Then came the message—quiet but thunderous:
The demon clan had sent envoys. They came not to attack, but to propose a negotiation—on the condition of being granted space to survive.
The announcement sent a tremor through the camp.
"Negotiate? With them? Are you mad?!" Third Star slammed his palm against the table, scattering bowls and maps.
"They're the ones who stopped the fighting first," Sixth Star said coldly, his voice like steel. "You've seen our numbers. Can we afford not to listen?"
"That's surrender!" Fifth Star roared. "You want to let the demons into our land, next thing they'll slit our throats in our sleep."
"Enough." First Star rose slowly. His gaze swept over the gathered. "We are not surrendering. We are surviving."
His words landed like iron. No one could refute them.
They had less than a hundred thousand troops remaining—half of them injured. Supplies had dwindled, morale teetered at the edge of collapse. Worst of all, they had seen it with their own eyes—how the Demon King and Queen had struck down the Celestial Lord with only a few moves. This was not a war they could win with stubborn pride alone.
"If we don't accept their offer and recover lost territories, every rival state out there will swoop in while we bleed."
"And so what do you suggest?" Fourth Star asked warily.
"That the Celestial Lord himself speak to the Demon King," First Star said. "Only that way can we keep our dignity intact."
The camp fell silent again.
All eyes turned to Miexing, quiet in the corner, pale but steady.
"What about you?" First Star asked her.
She looked up, her voice calm. "If it means keeping our comrades alive, then it's worth it."
Thus, a group was formed to return to the Celestial Palace, bringing the demon clan's proposal. But the journey back was far from peaceful.
Tensions that had simmered for days finally exploded.
"You want to let the demons enter the Central Plains? What are you thinking?!" Fourth Star snapped.
"If we don't let them help reclaim the eastern lands, we'll lose the rest faster than we can blink," Second Star retorted.
"You're just making excuses for them!" someone shouted.
"Coward," another accused.
Weapons were drawn, eyes wild. Anger turned into bloodlust.
And then—steel rang sharply through the air.
With one sweeping motion, Miexing's blade knocked down every weapon in reach. She stood still amid the chaos, cold wind brushing her hair, her gaze burning with the authority of survival.
"Enough," she said.
Her voice was quiet. But no one missed the steel within it.
"We are the Twelve Stars, not rabid dogs."
She stepped forward. One step at a time.
"Have you already forgotten who died on the front lines? Forgotten those who shielded you with their last breath? If we tear each other apart now, what is there left to protect?"
Silence.
None of them could look her in the eye.
She did not speak like a soldier.
She spoke like a leader.
By the time they arrived at the palace, the weight of their mission still pressed heavily upon them. But what awaited them was not understanding.
It was chains.
The Celestial Lord sat upon the shattered dais, ragged and broken. Blood veined his eyes; the air around him trembled with unstable power.
Before anyone could speak, he raised his hand.
"Arrest them," he commanded. "All of them. Traitors will be judged by me."
"You dare imprison us?!" Fifth Star shouted. "We came to stop a war!"
"You conspired with monsters!" the Celestial Lord snarled. "You want peace with the beasts that butchered our armies?!"
He rose with fury, and his spiritual power cracked the walls of the hall. A storm surged around him, threatening to collapse the palace itself.
"I am the last order in this world!"
But then—another voice cut through the madness.
"Is that so?"
The air froze.
A vicious wind tore open the ceiling as a dark shadow descended from the sky, followed by a wave of heavy demonic pressure.
A tall figure in black-gold armor landed with thunderous force.
The Demon King.
Cold, implacable, his presence sent ripples through the very ground. Behind him stood the Demon Queen, hair silver, blade drawn.
"You…" the Celestial Lord hissed, reaching for his sword.
But he never got the chance.
Boom!
With one strike, the Demon King sent him flying. The Celestial Lord slammed into a pillar, coughing blood.
Everyone was stunned.
"You'd better listen carefully," the Demon King said, voice sharp as frost. "We never wanted war."
"We only wanted a place to live."
One word. Then another. Each one crashing like stone.
"You cannot defeat us. Nor can you destroy us. Keep fighting, and you'll only dig your own grave."
The Celestial Lord knelt, blood dripping to the floor, face pale with rage and humiliation.
No one spoke.
Miexing watched in silence, her hand still on the hilt of her sword.
She realized something in that moment.
This wasn't just a negotiation.
It was the beginning of the world's unraveling