I am Villain Cultivator
Chapter 47: March of the Four: The Alliance of Calamities

Chapter 47: Chapter 47: March of the Four: The Alliance of Calamities

The skies above the Kilvish Clan trembled beneath the weight of war.

A vast armada of flying battleships pierced through the darkened clouds, their hulls etched with ancient runes and war banners fluttering in the stormwinds. Swarms of Primordial Beasts soared beside them, majestic Sea Realm creatures that had once inspired myths across the Azure Sky Continent.

A magnificent seven-colored peacock trailed shimmering feathers that sparkled like falling stars, while a crimson Red Flamingo streaked across the sky in a blaze of flame, its wings stretching wider than temple rooftops. Onboard the beasts and ships flew the banners of power: the Jeral Clan, the Storm Clan, the Thunder Spear Sect, and the Spirit Beast Hall.

Four of the Nine Giants had arrived as one.

The Jeral Clan’s twin-moon banner, fluttering like a promise of ruin.

The Storm Clan’s lightning-wreathed standard, crackling with unrestrained power.

The Thunder Spear Sect’s silver pennant, sharp as the weapon it represented.

The Spirit Beast Hall’s emerald crest, stitched with the silhouettes of primordial beasts.

On the shattered ground of the Kilvish estate, the clan’s remaining cultivators looked to the sky with despair clawing at their hearts. Many fell to their knees, overwhelmed by the immensity of the alliance above them.

"This... is this the end?" whispered one of the wounded disciples, his voice cracking like dry leaves in the wind.

From his vantage atop the broken tower, Mirror Immortal gazed at the incoming fleet with cold detachment. His eyes, clear as polished crystal, reflected no fear, only quiet expectation. His long silver hair billowed in the wind as he folded his hands behind his back.

"So none of the old friends came today," he murmured.

A streak of radiant blue light descended gracefully from the skies. Riding atop the majestic Seven-Colored Peacock was a middle-aged man with deep blue hair, clad in flowing robes marked with the sigil of the Spirit Beast Hall.

He bowed low from the air, his voice respectful. "Honourable Mirror Immortal. Our ancestor sends his regards. He said you alone are more than enough to ensure the destruction of the Kilvish Clan. There is no need for his presence."

Mirror Immortal did not reply at first. His expression remained serene, but his next words carried the weight of disdain.

"Hmph. Cowards. They fear staining their names those sly, ancient snakes. Always moving behind curtains, sending others to kill while pretending to be righteous."

His voice echoed across the battlefield.

The man did not show offence. He bowed his head once more. How could he? Mirror Immortal was not simply a man; he was a Divine Realm cultivator, one of the few beings who had stepped into the threshold of Dao itself. Every such existence bore a Daoist Title of Immortal, earned not by inheritance or sect, but through sheer power and fate.

And Mirror Immortal was one of them.

The blue-haired man’s silence was not submission. It was reverence.

A heavy silence fell in the moments before devastation.

Then, the blue-haired man standing atop the Seven-Colored Peacock raised his arm, his voice like rolling thunder."Attack."

The command unleashed a storm.

A barrage of cannonfire roared from the floating warships, each rune-inscribed projectile howling through the sky like vengeful spirits. The air trembled under the force of their assault, their trails lighting the darkened heavens in streaks of red, gold, and black.

Two mythical beasts took flight with the fury of ancient gods:

The Seven-Colored Peacock, its radiant plumage shimmering with spatial distortions, unleashed a dazzling fan of feathers. Each plume shimmered with fractured light, warping reality itself. As they descended, they carved through the air and ground alike, each capable of tearing apart mountain ranges with ease.

Beside it soared the Crimson Flamingo, cloaked in eternal fire. Every beat of its wings summoned ember-storms, fiery cyclones that scorched everything in their path. Its screech echoed across the battlefield, a cry of devastation that turned the skies blood-red.

Their combined onslaught slammed into the Eclipse Veil Formation, the legendary defensive array that had protected the Kilvish Clan for generations.

BOOM!

The dome of shadow and gravity groaned under the pressure. Ancient runes flickered and shattered like glass under an unseen hammer. Where once the formation could stall a Divine Realm cultivator for three days, now, after mere moments, it was cracking, its defences unravelling like frayed thread; it could only block the enemies for one day.

Inside the Formation Hall, chaos reigned.

Elder George stood surrounded by bloodied elders and disciples. The circular chamber trembled with each impact. Walls ran with cracks glowing purple and red. Spirit crystals shattered, Qi veins collapsed, and formation nodes short-circuited in bursts of light.

Several elders collapsed to their knees, blood spilling from their mouths.

"Hold the lines!" Elder George shouted, though his voice was hoarse and desperate. He, too, coughed violently, blood staining his beard.

The air in the formation chamber had grown thin, choked with spiritual backlash and the weight of heaven-piercing force.

"Just hold... long enough," he gasped. "Long enough... for the young ones to escape..."

His words trembled with a despair he tried to hide, but every cultivator there felt it.

They were not fighting for victory. They were buying time.

And the cost... was everything.

The battlefield at the Arena was painted in blood and fire.

The sky had long since lost its colour, now swallowed by smoke and Qi storms. Lightning tore the heavens, and distant roars of war echoed like thunderclaps.

Amidst the chaos, the Heavenly Dragon of the Storm Clan Adaeze, stood tall, his aura raging like a divine tempest. Against him, Grand Elder William Kilvish fought with desperate resolve. But no resolve could stop the storm.

A devastating arc of thunder-infused wind cleaved through the sky.

William blocked with his halberd, but it wasn’t enough.

CRACK!

His left arm was severed at the elbow, vanishing into dust. His eyes, scorched by blinding light, lost their focus, one blinded completely, the other barely holding vision. Blood ran down his weathered face, but he did not fall.

"Charles..." he whispered through gritted teeth, barely able to see the silhouette of the Patriarch beside him.

Charles Kilvish, too, stood bloodied. His robes were torn, chest bleeding from a direct blow, one leg dragging behind him. The proud Patriarch of the Kilvish Clan was a shadow of his former glory, but still unbroken.

As they prepared for another desperate clash, a soothing glow appeared before Charles.

The Spirit of the Nirvana Tower, housed within the Heaven-rank treasure that once shook continents, emerged in radiant form.

"Patriarch," the spirit said solemnly, "all the women, children, and young talents have been evacuated to the tower. I’m preparing to shift it into a dimensional rift—hidden far beyond the reach of this realm."

"But..." the spirit hesitated, "once inside, I will lose contact with the main continent. The survivors will be sealed away... until the world changes."

Charles, breathing heavily, closed his eyes in brief relief.

He had no illusions.

He would not survive this day.

But the Kilvish Clan... would.

All because of this tower—the last divine treasure left behind by the Founder, once a Divine-rank artifact, now reduced to Heaven-rank after sustaining injuries in a battle against a true immortal.

"Do it," Charles said firmly. "Go."

Far from the battlefield, at the ancestral graveyard of the Kilvish Clan, Ashen arrived first, carrying the unconscious Kaal over his shoulder. Behind him followed Divya, her eyes sharp despite the weight of grief. Flanking her were Mia and Jane, silent and pale, clutching their weapons tightly as they stepped into the sacred grounds.

Ashen walked to the front of the burial shrine, a massive statue of a warrior, carved in shadow-black stone, his face stern and proud, gripping a giant mace as if ready to strike down the heavens.

Without hesitation, Ashen approached the statue and placed his hand upon the left pinky finger.

CRACK.

The stone digit shattered instantly, revealing a hidden rune beneath.

With a tremble, the earth split. A circular passage descended into darkness as the ancient, hidden basement of the Kilvish Founder revealed itself.

"Come in," Ashen said quietly, stepping into the shadows with Kaal still on his back.

Divya exchanged a look with Mia and Jane. They nodded, then followed Ashen into the depths of their ancestors’ last sanctuary.

Just then—BOOM—a massive quake tore through the mountain. The latest strike against the formation shook the very ground, echoing into the tomb.

And within the chamber, Kaal’s eyes snapped open by the vibration of the formation’s attack.