The sky itself seemed to hold its breath as Jian Xuan, a lone, incandescent figure against a sea of enemies, unleashed his masterpiece. The thousands of golden, scissor-like claws of energy, a monument to theatrical inefficiency, began their descent. They did not fall like rain; they scythed through the air with a hungry, whistling sound, an avalanche of shimmering gold aimed squarely at the heart of the advancing army.

From the highest spire of Aethelgard, Grand Elder Theron watched, his ancient eyes wide with a mixture of shock and comprehension. He had met Jian Xuan before and knew him. The crazy and lucky man that crossed the endless sea by himself. He recognized the terrifying potency of a Fourth-Level Soul Formation cultivator. More importantly, he recognized an ally that had come to help.

"All forces, pull back!" Theron’s voice boomed across the city, empowered by the city’s communication array. "Retreat to the inner wall! Do not get caught in that storm!"

The beleaguered defenders on the eastern wall who had been bracing for a final, desperate stand, needed no second command. They scrambled back, their faces a mixture of terror and awe as the golden cataclysm fell upon their enemies. The claws had a unique look to them, not a technique often seen that made them look strangely beautiful to those watching.

For the Beast and Human Revolution Factions, and their demonic allies, there was no escape. The golden claws were not a single, unified blast but a thousand individual attacks, each one guided by Jian’s will. A monumental use of energy that would leave its user quite drained.

They moved like a school of piranhas, weaving through the ranks to find their targets. Cultivators who raised their shields found them shattered by a dozen simultaneous impacts. Mutated beasts, whose tough hides could repel strong attacks were diced into pieces.

The third-level Soul Formation expert, General Talonscythe, let out a furious roar, creating a maelstrom of wind and feathers to defend himself, but he was swarmed by hundreds of the claws. His defensive storm was shredded in seconds and though he managed to destroy a score of the energy constructs, dozens more sliced through his wings and armor, sending him plummeting from the sky, grievously wounded.

The attack was not just destructive; it was an absolute slaughter. In less than a minute, the entire eastern assault force, thousands strong, was either dead, dying, or in a full, panicked retreat. The ground outside the gate was littered with the gruesome aftermath.

Once the last fleeing enemy was cut down, a silence fell over the battlefield. Jian Xuan hovered in the sky, the golden light around him slowly fading. This left him silhouetted against the dark roiling clouds. He raised his sword high, a beacon of terrifying, unhinged power.

"You see that!?" his voice roared, echoing in the sudden quiet. "THAT is the power of one who follows the Crab God!! All other gods are pretenders to the throne!"

Then, to the utter shock of everyone watching—Li Yu most of all—Jian began to chant. He clasped his hands together in a gesture of pious reverence, his voice ringing with the zealous fervor of a true believer.

"Praise the God Crab, his mighty claw! His boundless void are our laws!"

"The Crab God’s might will never wane!! Through shell and claw his rule shall reign!!"

He chanted the two verses three times, each repetition louder and more passionate than the last. The words echoed off the ancient walls of Aethelgard and a few of the younger, more impressionable defenders stared up at him, a flicker of belief in their wide stunned eyes. They had just witnessed power and a miracle and now they were hearing the gospel.

On the airship, Li Yu felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment so profound it was almost a physical force. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Yet, beneath the embarrassment of his team, a grudging admiration bloomed.

Jian hadn't just made up a name; he had composed a creed on the fly. Was that what he was chatting with Khaos about earlier? The memory of Jian’s passionate one-sided conversation and Khaos’s amused nod suddenly made a terrifying amount of sense.

Jian’s madness, however, was a meticulously crafted performance. Li Yu understood Jian Xuan well enough to see the layers of strategy beneath the insanity. First, he was making their mark. He was announcing their arrival not as mere reinforcements but as a new terrifying power on the continent.

The "Abyssal Crab Cult" was now a name that would be whispered in fear from this day forward. Second, he was establishing his own might. Such a dominant, overwhelming display of power would generate awe and reverence, a beneficial form of energy for Jian Xuan. He had shared that with Li Xu before after advancing to the 4th stage of Soul Formation.

This story originates from NovelBin. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Lastly, and most importantly he was casting bait. Such supreme arrogance was a direct challenge, a lure designed to draw out the true masters of the enemy forces who were hiding in the shadows.

Sure enough, his plan worked.

As the last echo of his chant faded, the oppressive atmosphere over the battlefield did not lessen. Instead, it intensified. Two new distinct surges of powerful aura erupted in the distance. They were not the chaotic, bestial auras of the previous army but the focused, potent pressures of true Soul Formation masters. In the blink of an eye, three figures appeared in the sky a few kilometers from the city, their gazes locked onto Jian.

The leader was a man with a regal but cruel bearing, his spiritual energy tinged with a bloody crimson light. This had to be the Blood-Hand Duke, the fifth-level expert. Flanking him were two others. A woman cloaked in shadows whose aura felt cold and sinister, the third-level Soul Formation commander.

Lastly, a hulking man whose body was covered in bony protrusions, the first-level commander who had survived the slaughter. They kept their distance, wary of the city’s defensive arrays, potential sneak attacks and now the madman who had just annihilated their recent forces.

Jian Xuan, who had been waiting for them, broke into a wide mocking grin. He floated leisurely towards the city's main gate, positioning himself just outside the shimmering shield. "Well, well, looks like all the scum is coming out now," he called out, his voice dripping with contempt. "So, which flavor of scum are you? Followers of the pathetic beast god, the insignificant human god, or the cowardly demon god? I'm taking bets!"

He knew from his time with Li Yu’s group that the true believers among these factions hated having their deities insulted more than anything. It was a direct line to their fury.

To his slight disappointment, they didn't rush him.

The Blood-Hand Duke’s eyes narrowed, studying Jian with cold intensity. "I have fought on this continent for two decades," the Duke said, his voice smooth and dangerous. "I know every major sect and every powerful clan. I have never heard of this... 'Abyssal Crab Cult'."

"Of course you haven't," Jian scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Our cult is for the truly strong, the elite of the cosmos. Our existence is a truth far too potent for the likes of weaklings like you to comprehend. You spend your lives groveling before false idols while we walk the path of a true god. Of course you would not have heard of us."

Jian pointed his sword at the three of them. "I don't care which group of pathetic scum you represent. This is your first and only warning. Pull your forces away. Do not even cast a covetous glance in this city’s direction. This city, Aethelgard, is now under the divine protection of the Abyssal Crab God. Any—and I mean any—intention of aggression against this city will be met with swift and total annihilation."

A vein pulsed in the Duke’s temple. "You..." he hissed, his fifth-level Soul Formation aura finally flaring to life, a crimson tide that pressed down on the very air. "What gives a weakling like you, a mere fourth-level cultivator, the audacity to call our gods pathetic? To call me weak?" He pointed to the open sky away from the city. "If you are so brave, so confident in your 'Crab God', then come out here and face me. One on one. Away from the city's defenses."

Jian’s grin became positively wolfish. "I would love nothing more."

He didn't hesitate. He slowly, deliberately, began to fly away from the city gate, heading straight for them. The three experts tensed. He was coming too easily. This had to be a trap. They subconsciously prepared their escape routes, their spiritual senses scanning the area for any hidden arrays or ambushes.

As Jian flew, he threw his head back and laughed, a loud, unhinged sound that echoed across the sky. He then began to chant again, his voice filled with a terrifying, joyous conviction.

"With the Crab God I have no fear.” Jian began again.

“Shell and Claw, his words are law!!"

The enemy commanders were now genuinely unnerved. There was something deeply wrong with this man. His power was real but his mind was clearly unmoored. This level of fanatical confidence was unsettling. He was more fanatical than even they were!

The Blood-Hand Duke decided to test him. A trap was only dangerous if it could be sprung. He would launch a single, probing attack from a safe distance. If it was a trap, they could retreat instantly. He began to gather his blood-red energy, his hand forming a vicious claw...

And then he stopped.

Or rather, he was stopped.

He found, to his absolute horror, that he couldn't move. At all. It wasn't just physical paralysis; his spiritual energy was frozen in his meridians, his very soul locked in place. He tried to scream, to warn his companions but his mouth wouldn't open. Panic, cold and absolute, seized him.

He saw the same frozen terror reflected in the eyes of his two companions out of the corner of his eyes. They were trapped as well. All of them.

That's when his eyes, the only part of him he could still move, seeming like the only part of him allowed to move to witness the next scene, darted upwards.

There, standing on the empty air directly above them, was a handsome old man in simple black robes. He had not been there a second ago. He had made no sound. He had released no detectable aura.

He was just... there, his hands clasped casually behind his back, his gaze directed not at them, but at the distant walls of Aethelgard, as if they were nothing more than insects beneath his feet.

It was, of course, Khaos. And in that single silent moment of utter helplessness, the Blood-Hand Duke understood that he had made a fatal, life-ending mistake.