Misalignment

The Eerie Immortal’s regeneration was slower than expected.

Black mist swirled around it, with gray and black forming patterns reminiscent of a yin-yang fish. The waste beneath its feet was slowly being pulled up by the mist at its ankles. The foul energy lingering within the shattered bricks crawled up its shins, eventually disappearing into the hollow joints of its knees.

Its porcelain-like face was the last part to fully knit together.

Luo Yang held Bloodfall in his left hand and Night Owl in his right.

The blade felt slightly lighter than he remembered.

Qiu Shubai raised her left hand, bringing the crimson revolver to shoulder height. She aimed the muzzle directly at the Eerie Immortal’s newly reformed face.

Bang!

The gunshot was muffled, sounding as if it had been fired through a layer of wet cloth.

The bullet was shrouded in red mist as it left the barrel, only fully manifesting after flying three meters. The crimson projectile took an unnatural curve in the air, bypassing the Eerie Immortal’s raised claw to bury itself in its right shoulder.

The Eerie Immortal’s claw froze in mid-air.

The energy sequence in its shoulder had only just been restored before it was thrown into chaos once more. From its upper arm to its fingertips, every inch was in a state of misalignment—one inch pushed left, the next pushed right, like parts crudely dismantled and then haphazardly shoved back together. The grayish-white skin of its shoulder sank half an inch, only beginning to slowly level out after several breaths.

Crimson Abyss couldn’t wound it, but it could disrupt its repair rhythm.

“Go!”

Qiu Shubai’s voice cut through Luo Yang’s thoughts.

Luo Yang stepped forward.

As he took his first step, his foot kicked up a half-buried rebar from the ruins, sending it spinning through the air to land two meters behind him. By the time his second step landed, he was less than five meters from the Eerie Immortal.

The Eerie Immortal’s face tilted toward him.

First, its cervical vertebrae creaked, then its jaw shifted two inches, and finally, its entire face adjusted to face him directly. It paused for a beat in the middle, as if the nerve-like “thread” in its neck had been loosened by Crimson Abyss, causing a delay in its signals.

Luo Yang’s right hand reached first. Night Owl’s ghostly blue edge slashed upward at an angle, cutting into the Eerie Immortal’s left shoulder.

The blade bit into the grayish-white skin with a faint hiss, like hot oil hitting a wet cloth. The skin didn't break; Night Owl had no special additional abilities, and against a monster that defied common logic, a simple slash was useless.

But Luo Yang’s left hand followed immediately.

He thrust Bloodfall horizontally. He didn't have time to re-adjust to the sword; it had changed slightly since he last used it, the grip felt unfamiliar, and the balance point was off. But with the empowerment of Weapon's End, Ember's Birth, he only needed to press the blade against the cut made by Night Owl.

A thin red line extended from the sword, trailing back twenty meters to Qiu Shubai’s fingertip. Across the ruins, she had channeled a wisp of distortion power onto the edge of Bloodfall.

When the red line touched that withered skin, Luo Yang finally felt as if he were cutting into something solid.

Bloodfall acted like a wedge driven into the previously sealed wound. Once the door was forced open, the black substances that were never meant to leak out came gushing out from within.

The Eerie Immortal’s entire left shoulder collapsed. Its powerful regenerative ability seemed to be hindered by something, remaining unable to recover for a long time.

The energy within its body tried to repair the damage. Luo Yang could feel a dark current pressing against the blade, trying to force the edges of the cut together, but twice it failed to close. The crimson trace of distortion power left on the wound’s edge caused every repair attempt to veer off by an inch.

A strange sound emerged from the Eerie Immortal’s throat as its left hand rose. That hand moved faster than ever before—so fast that before Night Owl could be withdrawn, the claw was already at Luo Yang’s chest.

Luo Yang retreated three steps, each footfall leaving a crater in the rubble. He held Bloodfall horizontally in front of him and Night Owl angled toward the ground, only stabilizing himself once he was two meters in front of Qiu Shubai.

The Eerie Immortal’s claw didn't pursue him. It stopped in place, the tips of its claws hanging motionless less than an inch from where Luo Yang’s chest had just been.

But the air beneath the claws was trembling.

It was a visible tremor; a ripple of distorted air radiated outward from the claws like a stone thrown into water. Every ripple carried the same sensation of “Erasure” Luo Yang had felt earlier, making him doubt whether he truly existed.

Luo Yang’s throat bobbed.

If he hadn't retreated quickly, he would likely be coughing up blood again by now.

Bang!

Qiu Shubai fired another shot.

This time, the bullet hit the Eerie Immortal’s right knee. The creature dropped to one knee as the energy within the joint was twisted into a braid, making the leg unable to bend or straighten.

As it knelt, the unclosed wound on its left shoulder split open even further.

Luo Yang heard Qiu Shubai gasp behind him.

He glanced back. Three thin white marks had appeared on Qiu Shubai’s left wrist, a sign that some structure beneath her skin was collapsing. The small bloodstain already on her left sleeve had spread, soaking down to her elbow.

Crimson Abyss was burning her very self.

With every shot she fired, she wasn't just paying with blood energy; she was sacrificing her own “Reality”—the proof of her existence in this world—to counteract the distortion power of Crimson Abyss.

“Rest for a moment,” Luo Yang said.

“No need.”

“Listen to me.”

“Luo Yang—”

“You too. Don't overdo it.”

She didn't argue further, but he heard the sound of her lowering the gun barrel.

Twenty meters away, the Eerie Immortal stood up. Its left leg moved first while its right leg dragged behind. The depression on its leg began to pop back out, but it did so reluctantly, as if something inside its body was pulling back, refusing to let it return to its proper shape.

It walked toward them, its right foot sinking half an inch deeper into the rubble than its left with every step. The waste was crushed beneath its feet, sending a plume of white dust into the air.

“Kid.”

Li Jinqi’s voice came from behind Luo Yang to the right.

The Old Director’s face had gone from white to a deathly gray. Half of his body was supported by Zhang Xian’s shoulder, and his other hand gripped his now-dimmed long blade.

“I have at most one strike left.”

“Are you really…?”

“We must coordinate well.”

Li Jinqi was looking at Luo Yang as he spoke, but his eyes seemed to struggle to focus.

“Old Li,” Zhang Xian said, “save it. Use it only when things get truly desperate.”

“I know.”

“Kid,” Zhang Xian looked up. “Can you and the girl hold out for two minutes?”

“We can.”

“Good. Old Li and I will leave an opening for you to finish this.”

Luo Yang didn't reply; he was watching the Eerie Immortal.

The creature had already reached a point ten meters away.

Its footsteps paused.

Luo Yang’s mental power swept across the battlefield. He saw thin black threads crawling toward the Eerie Immortal from every crack in the ruins and every shadow of the shattered bricks.

That was the mist it had lost when it scattered earlier—its very existence. For every strand it reclaimed, the energy sequence disrupted by Crimson Abyss stabilized a bit more.

“I have to interrupt it,” Luo Yang said, preparing to charge again with his sword.

The Eerie Immortal took another step, now only six meters from Luo Yang. Its left hand rose, moving much faster than before.

Its collapsed shoulder was nearly repaired, and its misaligned joints were mostly back in place. In a few more breaths, it would return completely to that suffocating state from before.

“Miss Chief,” Luo Yang’s voice was barely a whisper. “Without causing too much harm to yourself, how many shots do you have left?”

“…Three,” Qiu Shubai replied, her face flushed with an unnatural feverish red.

“Save one for the end. Use the first two as you see fit.”

“Alright.”

Bang!

The first shot rang out.

The bullet entered the Eerie Immortal’s jaw. A large patch of skin peeled away from the skull, dangling from the right side of its face for a moment before being forcibly sucked back in from within.

The reabsorption process took three breaths.

Luo Yang charged. Night Owl slashed upward from below, its blade grazing the unrepaired skin in the center of the Eerie Immortal’s chest. Bloodfall was held horizontally in his left hand, its blade once again coated in a red line by Qiu Shubai. This time, the red was deeper, almost solid.

Both blade and sword struck the Eerie Immortal’s chest at the same time.

Night Owl was repelled. The fourth-tier weapon hummed violently, the ghostly blue blood energy on its blade fluctuating wildly. A tiny crack appeared on the hilt.

But Night Owl’s attack was merely secondary; only Bloodfall could truly be effective.

Bloodfall slashed down, carving half an inch into the creature under the empowerment of Weapon's End, Ember's Birth.

Just half an inch.

But within that half-inch, the Eerie Immortal’s face suddenly slumped downward.

Its neck could no longer support the weight of its head.

Luo Yang pushed forward with his left hand, forcing the edge of Bloodfall another inch deeper.

A glossy black liquid seeped from the Eerie Immortal’s chest. Unlike the previous black mist, this liquid had weight; as it hit the ground, it burned through several meters of hard earth and rock before stopping.

The Eerie Immortal’s left hand grazed Luo Yang’s ear as its entire arm detached from its body, falling into the ruins to his left and leaving a shallow pit.

A large cloud of black mist billowed from the severed joint, containing tiny fragments of grayish-white bone.

Its left arm had fallen off.

It was shedding its tail.

It had directly discarded the left arm that was too heavily contaminated by Crimson Abyss, purging all the distortion power along with it.

Without the obstruction of the distortion power, the wound on its chest carved by Bloodfall began to close.

It closed with incredible speed.

So fast that before Bloodfall could be withdrawn, the grayish-white skin on both sides of the wound clamped onto the blade.

Luo Yang felt a sudden weight in his left hand.

The entire sword was caught in the Eerie Immortal’s chest.

The faint golden markings on Bloodfall’s blade began to turn gray starting from the tip. As a manifestation of Qiu Shubai’s ability, the sword was absorbing the corrosive power on its master's behalf.

Qiu Shubai gasped behind him, her breath hitching. The white marks on her left wrist had already reached her elbow.

Luo Yang gritted his teeth. “Release control!”

“I can’t! I can’t take it back!”

The Eerie Immortal’s right hand rose.

Though its jaw was still collapsed, two hollows suddenly appeared in the upper half of its void-like face.

Inside those hollows, pinpricks of red light flickered.

It had opened its eyes.

It squeezed a syllable from its throat. It wasn't part of any language Luo Yang understood, but he could sense the meaning wrapped within the sound.

It was saying, “Stay.”

Luo Yang’s feet didn't move an inch. It wasn't because he didn't want to move; it was because his feet had heard those words and refused to budge, as if they had gained a mind of their own.

In his Sea of Consciousness, the golden tree shook violently. Its roots raced through his blood vessels, and its leaves flipped over. It was fighting to shield its master from the pressure seeping into his consciousness. But the pressure was heavier than any trial he had faced before—so heavy that the tree’s golden light began to turn dull.

Bloodfall was still stuck in the Eerie Immortal’s chest.

The Eerie Immortal’s right hand had risen from its side to chest height, its claws aimed at Luo Yang’s throat from less than three meters away.

“Stay…”

Luo Yang’s throat moved.

He heard half a syllable squeeze out of his own mouth.

That syllable wasn't “Okay.”

But it wasn't “No” either.

It was a completely foreign language that even he didn't understand.

Behind him, Qiu Shubai raised her left hand.

The crimson revolver was once again held at shoulder height.

She had two shots left.

Her index finger touched the trigger.

Under the gaze of those two red dots, Luo Yang heard a faint “click” by his ear.

It was the sound of the fourth white mark appearing on her left wrist.