Eternal life begins with saving my clan

Thousands of miles from Dongping City, a vast stretch of green grasslands lay interrupted by the presence of a sprawling military encampment.

Tens of massive tents, each as large as a manor, spread across the plain in a disciplined formation.

Flags bearing the sigil of the Necoris Race fluttered in the wind, their sharp insignias flashing like knives in the sunlight.

The air was thick with the sounds of discipline and preparation—clashes of steel on steel, the heavy grunts of soldiers sparring, and the rhythmic drumming that echoed in sync with their marches.

Everywhere the eye could see, soldiers moved with purpose, their footsteps a steady, thunderous rhythm.

Around the perimeter of the camp, elite guards patrolled with cold, calculating eyes. Their gazes were sharp, piercing through the distance as they surveyed the land with an unrelenting focus.

Within the heart of the camp, larger tents housed the commanding officers and planning their next crusade.

"Where the hell is Zennad?!" The voice that tore through the Necoris military camp was like the roar of an earthquake, deep and boisterous, vibrating through the very ground beneath them.

The Necoris commanders froze in place, their movements halting as if the sheer power of that voice had momentarily robbed them of breath.

The one who spoke was Xorox, a towering figure even among the mightiest of the Necoris race. His scales were unlike the others, a gleaming shade of purple that shimmered with a terrifying, otherworldly brilliance.

Xorox's eyes, two glowing orbs of fiery crimson, burned with impatience. His presence alone was a storm of violence waiting to be unleashed.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

He was not just any general.

Xorox was one of the most feared and brutal leaders of the Necoris race, his reputation soaked in the blood of countless conquered cities and kingdom. He was a living legend, and to stand before him was to stand before death itself.

The commanders, hardened by battle and seasoned in war, found themselves faltering under the weight of his gaze.

One by one, they felt the cold grip of fear tightening around their throats.

"G-General…" Lehat, a commander known for his stoic demeanor, found his voice cracking under the pressure.

His throat felt dry, and his usually steady hands trembled slightly. He forced himself to meet Xorox's eyes, though every instinct screamed at him to look away.

"Commander Zennad… h-he rushed down to one of the smaller cities under his campaign," he stammered, the words spilling from his lips in a rush, as if speaking any slower might earn him Xorox's wrath.

"He's... he's taking over the city."

Xorox's glare shifted to Lehat, and for a moment, the weight of it felt like it would crush him where he stood.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Every commander in the tent held their breath, their eyes darting nervously between each other, waiting for Xorox's response.

Lehat's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the terror that gripped him. He knew Xorox was not a being to be trifled with. His impatience was legendary, and his temper—unforgiving.

Xorox took a step forward, the ground beneath him seeming to shudder with the weight of his presence. His voice was low, dangerous, like the rumbling of a volcano before it erupted.

"Taking over a city?" he hissed, his tone dripping with contempt. "While we prepare for the real battle here? While I wait for his report?"

Lehat's scales felt cold against his skin as beads of sweat formed on his brow. His mind raced, searching for words that could somehow appease Xorox's growing ire.

But there was nothing. Nothing that could temper the storm he saw brewing in the general's eyes

"Zennad," Xorox growled, each syllable dripping with venom, "chooses to waste his time on a pathetic little city, while our enemies strengthen?"

The other commanders dared not move.

The tension in the air was palpable, as if the entire camp was holding its breath, waiting for Xorox's next move.

No one dared speak.

No one dared even look at each other for fear that any motion might draw Xorox's wrath toward them

Lehat swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I-I can send word to recall him immediately, General Xorox," he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll… I'll ensure he returns to the main campaign at once."

Then, without warning, Xorox laughed—a sound so deep and menacing that it sent a chill down the spine of every commander in the room. But there was no humor in that laugh. It was the kind of laugh that signaled something far worse than anger.

"Recall him?" Xorox's voice dropped into a dangerous whisper, sending ripples of fear through the commanders.

"No," Xorox growled, his voice low and menacing, his crimson eyes gleamed with a predatory light as he turned back to the commanders.

"We're going to that city of his to find out what gave him the confidence to abandon my campaign… for a measly city."

he words hung in the air like a death sentence and Lehat's heart plummeted into his stomach, cold dread wrapping around him like chains.

He didn't need to hear more to understand the grim reality that now awaited Zennad—and the city he had foolishly sought to conquer.

Xorox's tone was final, as if the fate of both Zennad and the city had already been etched into stone.

He had seen the aftermath of Xorox's rage too many times to count. Entire cities razed to the ground, their people left as smoldering husks.

The very idea that Xorox would now descend upon this unknown city filled him with unspeakable horror.

None would leave alive.

Xorox's purple scales shimmered menacingly as he issued his next command. "Prepare the troops. We leave at once. I want that city reduced to ashes, and Zennad—" he paused, his voice thick with malice, "he will beg for death before I'm done with him."

Unknown to the looming threat approaching them, Dongping City remained embroiled in its own turmoil.

The recent battle had left scars that still bled—both on the streets and in the hearts of its people.

Yet, what truly set the city on edge was not the lingering scent of death but the shocking sight of its most powerful figures—the leaders of the powerful clans and even the city lord himself—rushing into the Celestial Heavenly Store.

With such urgency that it seemed as though their very lives depended on it.

And perhaps, it did.