Awakening

The moment the command for Weapon's End, Ember's Birth surged into Bloodfall, Luo Yang felt as if the very last thread of his spiritual sense had been wrenched from the depths of his spinal cord.

The link strung together by blood was reinforced to its absolute limit between Luo Yang’s Sea of Consciousness and Qiu Shubai’s energy sea; even its vibration frequency perfectly synchronized with the beating of Luo Yang’s heart. Upon receiving his will, the cracks on Bloodfall’s blade, which had been on the verge of shattering, were forcibly frozen by a power that brooked no defiance.

It was a power that possessed a nearly rule-like quality.

The golden light from the base of the hilt climbed along the blood grooves, passing the midpoint and reaching all the way to the tip of the blade.

Crimson Abyss sensed the change. The crimson revolver had previously suppressed Bloodfall without any effort, but in this moment, the distortion power gushing from its muzzle was repelled significantly upon striking the blade.

The rebounding force wasn't particularly strong, but for Crimson Abyss, this was unprecedented. Its barrel trembled slightly, as if expressing some form of confusion.

The tip of Bloodfall slowly rose, ascending until it was level with the muzzle of Crimson Abyss.

Luo Yang’s left hand had almost no blood left to shed. The edges of his wounds had begun to scab over slightly, and his muscles were twitching with minor spasms from the extreme blood loss. Yet that line was still there, unbroken; he was using the final shred of his will to maintain it.

If blood would no longer flow, he would use pure blood energy; if blood energy could no longer be mobilized, he would use mental power!

As long as he remained conscious for even a single second, this bridge would exist for that second!

As if sensing the man’s unwavering will, Bloodfall erupted after a brief moment of gathering power.

With the empowerment of Weapon's End, Ember's Birth, Bloodfall completely cast off its passive state of being beaten. It no longer retreated, nor did it attempt to repair itself; instead, it concentrated all the blood energy received from Luo Yang onto the tip of the blade, drawing out a blinding white-gold sword light.

Crimson Abyss’s distortion power lunged forward. Countless sickening tentacles extended from that mass of deep purple energy, wrapping toward Bloodfall with an overbearing aura, attempting to use its old method to grind the sword to pieces.

The white-gold light-blade cleaved downward head-on. Tentacle after tentacle was severed through the middle, and the distortion power at the cut ends didn't even have time to retract before being completely evaporated by Bloodfall’s light-blade. With every strand evaporated, the radiance on Crimson Abyss’s body dimmed by another degree.

The two weapons faced off above Qiu Shubai’s energy sea. Between each advance and retreat, the tide of battle had completely reversed.

Bloodfall grew bolder as the battle progressed, with Luo Yang’s blood energy continuously flowing in through that link. In his Sea of Consciousness, the roots of the golden tree could no longer squeeze out anything more, but he didn't need more. He only needed to keep the channel open and let Bloodfall pin Crimson Abyss under its heel.

Ultimately, Crimson Abyss chose to back down.

Its barrel began to loosen from its revolver form, and the crimson light-streams that composed the gun’s body attempted to scatter and flee. But Bloodfall gave it no chance to escape.

The sword light pursued, cutting off the scattered light-streams one by one, circling like a diligent sheepdog around a panicked flock, herding them all back into the corners where they belonged.

In a mere instant, Crimson Abyss was forced to the very edge of the energy sea.

The surface of the sea was no longer a tranquil gray; Luo Yang’s blood energy had mixed in, dyeing it a dark red. The deep red washed over every inch of the surface, as if someone had poured an entire vat of cinnabar into a lake of clear water.

Bloodfall hung in the center of the sea. The cracks on its blade had completely vanished, replaced by deep, gold-red interwoven markings. Its sense of existence was more intense than at any moment before—so intense that the entire Sea of Consciousness trembled for it.

Pressed into the corner, Crimson Abyss shifted from its initial arrogance to a curled-up state. The distortion power no longer leaked out; it was all retracted around itself, forming a thin protective shell.

It didn't dare move again.

Bloodfall’s tip pointed at it, but it did not continue the attack, as if declaring a form of sovereignty:

This is my territory.

...

An unknown amount of time passed. When Qiu Shubai opened her eyes, the first signal she received was the light from the outside world.

A sliver of bluish-gray had just broken through the horizon, leaking through the gaps in the clouds and falling onto her eyelashes, feeling chilly.

She tried to move her fingers, but the sensation on her wrist made her stop.

She turned her wrist to look; for some reason, those white marks had disappeared. Not a single one remained; the skin on her wrist was clean, as if nothing had ever happened.

When she moved her limbs, she had been prepared for excruciating pain. She remembered all too clearly the feeling of being torn apart from the bone marrow outward when Crimson Abyss had gone on a rampage.

But no such unbearable sensation came.

Replacing the pain was a sense of fullness she had never experienced before.

Powerful blood energy surged through her meridians with a force entirely different from before. Every branch of her blood vessels was filled with refined energy, thick as liquid metal and so substantial that she felt as if her entire being had become heavier.

She sank her attention into her Sea of Consciousness. The surface was as calm as a piece of polished obsidian, its dark red base reflecting the image of the empty sky. Bloodfall hung right in the center of that sea; the markings on its blade were more than a grade brighter than she remembered, with gold-red interwoven petal-like patterns rippling gently in the absence of wind.

Crimson Abyss was huddled at the farthest edge of the sea, quiet and still, without a single movement.

Bloodfall sent a ripple toward her, but it was neither the hunger for food nor the excitement of battle; it was a pure sense of joy, like a puppy seeing its master return home.

Qiu Shubai was stunned for a long time.

It took her a while to confirm she wasn't dreaming. The emotion transmitted by Bloodfall truly permeated her consciousness. From the moment she had awakened her ability until now, this sword had never sent her such an emotion.

And yet now, it was actually expressing "happiness" to her.

Strangely, that joy seemed to be influencing her own mood as well.

She found the corners of her mouth curling upward uncontrollably, and something in her chest couldn't help but leap. she didn't even know why she was smiling; her facial muscles had simply reacted before her brain could.

The cold morning wind brushed across her cheeks, and the chill stimulated her, finally bringing her consciousness fully back to reality.

She felt something soft cushioning the back of her head. The texture didn't feel like stone or soil; the weave of fabric was rubbing against her scalp. Looking further down, her gaze followed the object beneath her and saw two straight legs, their pant legs tattered beyond recognition.

The back of her head was resting right on Luo Yang’s thigh.

An electric shock raced from her tailbone all the way to the top of her head.

“Gah!”

She bounced up.

More accurately, she lunged up from the ground, her movements so fast she even startled herself. Her soles slipped on the broken bricks, and she staggered for a couple of steps before steadying herself. Her heart was thumping wildly, pounding so hard her ears rang.

Heat surged from the base of her neck to her cheeks, as if a valve had been opened, and she couldn't suppress it at all.

She clenched her fists, her back teeth grinding against her jaw. A stomach full of shame and embarrassment churned together, and she was just about to say something to break this agonizing silence when she saw Luo Yang’s face.

He was leaning against that cement block, his head tilted to one side and his chin lowered. His plain glass spectacles had slid down to the tip of his nose, looking as if they might fall at any moment. His complexion could no longer be described as just pale; to put it bluntly, his color was approaching the grayish-white of a corpse.

Dark red blood scabs were clustered at the corners of his mouth and beneath his nose. A large patch of his shirt front was wet, and the seeping blood had already dried to a blackish hue, completely covering the original color of the fabric. His left hand lay at his side, palm up and fingers curled, with wounds of varying depths visible on every finger.

His chest was moving, but the rhythm was so small it was almost imperceptible. He was breathing, but the rise and fall were as shallow as if someone were pinching his throat.

In disbelief, she crouched down and reached out to check his carotid artery.

The pulse was still there—weak but stable.

She retracted her finger and stared at his ashen face for two seconds. Her mouth opened, but in the end, she couldn't force anything out.

“Girl.”

A voice came from the right. Qiu Shubai turned her head to see Zhang Xian leaning on a steel rod he had found somewhere, slowly limping over from about ten meters away. Beside him was Li Jinqi; the Old Director had half his body draped over Zhang Xian’s shoulder, his legs moving like he was stepping on cotton, pressing his entire weight onto Zhang Xian’s arm with every step.

Zhang Xian’s face had several abrasions, his hair was mostly disheveled, and the front of his Zhongshan suit was covered in dust. Li Jinqi was in much worse shape; his left arm hung at his side, completely immobile, and the entire arm from shoulder to fingertips was an unnatural deep purple, as if the blood vessels inside had all burst. His wide-brimmed hat was gone, his white hair was plastered to his forehead, and his face was as white as paper.

When the two reached them, Zhang Xian crouched down first to check on Luo Yang, placing two fingers on the inside of his wrist.

After a few breaths, he looked up and let out a sigh of relief.

“Whew... His life is hanging in there.”

He used the steel rod to push himself up, looked at Li Jinqi, then at the unconscious Luo Yang, and finally let his gaze rest on Qiu Shubai. A smile actually managed to pull at the corners of his mouth.

That smile was exhausted to the extreme, yet it somehow stayed in place.

“Girl, I can take these two back. The hospitals in the city haven't stopped since last night, but with their identities, they’ll be admitted as soon as they arrive. It won't delay things.”

He patted the dust off himself.

“It’s just that with this frame of mine, moving these two grown men is a bit of a stretch... Well, it’s not impossible.”

He supported Luo Yang’s back with one hand and hooked the other under his knee bend, steadily hoisting the man up from beside the cement block. His movements were certain; the muscles in his arms were pulled tight, and veins bulged beneath his sleeves.

“Girl,” Zhang Xian said as he settled Luo Yang onto his left arm and reached out with his right to pull Li Jinqi, “you’ll probably have to find your own way back.”

Qiu Shubai’s throat moved slightly.

“I...”

“Over there.”

A muffled, airy sound that almost drifted away came from Zhang Xian’s left arm. Luo Yang’s lips moved; he didn't open his eyes, but the voice definitely came from his throat.

His right hand slowly reached toward his waist, his fingers fumbling with his belt a few times before tremulously unhooking a set of keys.

“...Drive back.”

Qiu Shubai took the keys. When his fingertips brushed her palm, they were so cold her fingers twitched.

She looked in the direction he indicated with his chin. Over a hundred meters away, a black off-road vehicle sat quietly.

A layer of grayish-white dust had settled on the car’s body, and the windshield was stained with a few drops of some unknown fluid residue. But overall, it looked surprisingly intact; even the rearview mirrors weren't crooked.

“The quality is really not bad.”

Zhang Xian had already tucked Li Jinqi under his right arm. Carrying the weight of two adult men, he glanced at the car.

“Which company made it? I’ll buy one next time too.”