The moment the second bullet left the chamber, a massive surge of distortion power erupted across the battlefield. This force was even more intense than before, its dense red mist nearly dispelling the pitch-black fog leaking from the Eerie Immortal, turning this hellish landscape into a purgatory of crimson.
The projectile bored into the pinprick of red within the Eerie Immortal’s left eye socket. Instantly, the entire socket collapsed inward by an inch, and the withered skin on the left half of its skull sank along with it. The Eerie Immortal’s head tilted forty-five degrees to the right, and the “thread” in its cervical vertebrae—already partially severed—snapped completely.
The right claw that had been pressing down toward Luo Yang’s throat stopped right then, its tips less than an inch from his skin.
“Pull it out!”
Qiu Shubai’s shout lacked her usual cold, detached tone; it sounded as if it had been scraped from the depths of her throat, carrying a distinct rasp.
Luo Yang flipped his left wrist and yanked backward. He twisted Bloodfall half a turn within the unclosed gash in the Eerie Immortal’s chest, the blade dragging out a mass of black sludge that burned an egg-sized hole into the waste the moment it hit the ground.
The instant the sword tip emerged, he heard a sharp crack from one of his ribs.
Despite his efforts, he hadn't been able to fully deflect the pressure from that descending claw.
The sword was free, but a section of the golden markings on Bloodfall’s blade had turned black.
Luo Yang had no time to worry about its condition. He threw Night Owl toward the Eerie Immortal’s right claw with a backhand flick. Night Owl spun through the air, its ghostly blue edge trailing a graceful arc through the night.
The Eerie Immortal’s head was still disconnected from its motor functions, but the scattered energy sequences within its body were making a final instinctive struggle. Its right claw shifted half an inch toward the blade to parry.
This was exactly what Luo Yang had been waiting for.
He slashed Bloodfall upward with his left hand. The tip of the sword drove into the collapsed gap in the Eerie Immortal’s jaw, the blade instantly coated in a rich, vibrant crimson.
The Eerie Immortal’s jaw split from the inside. Porcelain-like fragments poked through its skin before being forcibly sucked back in, but this time, not a single piece returned to its proper place.
Its face seemed completely ruined, but its legs were still moving.
The Eerie Immortal’s headless torso lunged forward by instinct, aiming straight for Luo Yang’s chest.
Both of its arms were gone. Its left arm had been discarded over a dozen breaths ago, and its right arm was still twitching in the rubble three paces from its feet.
But it didn't need arms; its chest was its mouth.
The gash carved by Bloodfall stretched to twice its size as it lunged, reaching out to consume Luo Yang whole.
Luo Yang’s legs wouldn't move.
The injury in his left lung caused by the previous pressure was manifesting now; something in his chest creaked with every breath. He wanted to retreat, but his knees felt as soft as boiled tofu.
“Old Li!”
Zhang Xian’s shout came from his back right.
The now-dimmed long blade flew from Li Jinqi’s hand. The Old Director had staked his final bit of energy on this single strike. The blade flew straight as a steel nail, without any deviation, driving directly into the Eerie Immortal’s right shoulder—right at the edge of the socket where the arm had detached.
The Eerie Immortal’s right shoulder shattered completely from the socket.
The torso’s lunge veered off its original trajectory.
Luo Yang raised his left hand.
He couldn't lift his hand to its normal height. Blood was already seeping from his chest, staining his clothes into a dark pool.
Bloodfall hummed softly in his palm. The sound wasn't the vibration of metal, but more like the cry of a living creature that had just had its tail stepped on.
Luo Yang sidestepped to avoid the Eerie Immortal’s renewed charge. The creature’s body brushed against his left ribs as it crashed into the concrete block he had been leaning on earlier, smashing right through it. The concrete snapped in two, sending debris flying in all directions.
But it still wasn't dead. It twisted its hollow neck and aimed its expanding chest back at Luo Yang.
Bang! Bang!
This time, it wasn't Crimson Abyss, but Zhang Xian’s concrete fragments.
The old principal’s ruler had long since been destroyed, but he had hauled a half-man-tall block of concrete with exposed rebar from the ruins. Cradling it in his palm, he hunched over and released his blood energy, using every ounce of his strength to hurl the massive object.
The concrete slammed into the Eerie Immortal, the rebar ends driving deep into it and pinning its lunging body into the wreckage of the concrete block.
Though it only bought them less than two breaths of time, it was enough.
Qiu Shubai had already raised the barrel of her revolver to shoulder height.
She had moved to Luo Yang’s left side at some point. He hadn't seen her approach; he only felt her shoulder press against his own.
Her right hand pressed over his left, which was gripping Bloodfall. Her palm was hot—unnaturally so.
“Together.”
When she spoke those words, Luo Yang could clearly smell the scent of blood on her breath.
“Yeah.”
A small red stone he had never noticed before was embedded in the pommel of Bloodfall. Luo Yang only now realized it was the shape of a bullet from Crimson Abyss, having been embedded there from the very beginning.
This was how she channeled the distortion power into Bloodfall.
The crimson muzzle of the revolver aligned with that stone. The trigger was pulled, and the final bullet roared out of the chamber.
Bang!
Simultaneously, the bullet embedded in the base of Bloodfall was pushed forward along the sword’s blood grooves.
The two inches of blackened markings on Bloodfall were ignited by this thrust, burning into a blinding gold-red in an instant.
The Eerie Immortal’s body, pinned to the concrete, froze completely.
Its form, its existence—things that previously required no definition—now seemed ethereal and fleeting. Gold-red flames swept over its entire body, incinerating even its instinct to flee.
With a sharp, metallic snap, cracks began to appear starting from the tip of Bloodfall.
As the first crack reached the middle of the blade, wounds began to appear on Luo Yang’s body as well. The more the sword shattered, the more gashes opened across his skin. Blood flowed down the hilt, staining the hand Qiu Shubai had pressed over his.
In less than ten breaths, the blade shattered completely. From tip to hilt, every inch turned into gold-red powder, sifting through their fingers.
At the same time, the Eerie Immortal’s body shattered.
It no longer turned into black mist; instead, it broke from the inside out like a porcelain vase hitting the floor. Fragments flew in every direction, each one turning into gray ash before hitting the ground.
A wind blew across the ruins, carrying the ash thirty meters away until it completely dissipated.
Luo Yang’s left hand remained where Bloodfall had been. The last grain of gold-red powder slipped through his fingers to the ground, but something seemed to remain in his palm.
He opened his hand to find a wisp of an extremely thin golden thread, like a strand of hair, curling in his palm and swaying with the wind.
It was absorbing things from the air for him.
The moment the Eerie Immortal collapsed, all the blood energy it had previously absorbed from these ruins was released. The air across the wasteland was now thick with blood energy, like an invisible rain.
That golden thread was drawing that rain into Luo Yang’s palm.
It gathered the energy slowly and steadily.
With every wisp it collected, the golden tree in Luo Yang’s Sea of Consciousness—which had almost withered away—gained a bit more vitality.
Luo Yang’s vision began to turn white.
Only then did he realize he could no longer stand. At least several ribs were broken where the shockwave had hit his chest, and a section of his left lung had collapsed. He hadn't fallen earlier because his left hand was still gripping Bloodfall.
Now Bloodfall was gone, but the golden thread remained in his palm.
He hadn't collapsed yet, but the person supporting him wasn't himself; it was Qiu Shubai.
Her left arm was hooked under his armpit, propping up half his weight.
“Hold on,” she whispered in his ear.
Her voice was trembling.
“You hold on too.”
When Luo Yang spoke those words, his tongue felt as stiff as a board.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he heard the sound of the crimson revolver shattering from within.
It was a cracking sound, like something being smashed. Crimson fragments flew everywhere, each one turning into red mist before diving back into her left arm.
But the returning red mist wasn't entirely under her control.
Luo Yang felt the hand she had pressed against his chest trembling.
“Crimson Abyss is rampaging…” her weak voice brushed against his earlobe.
Crimson Abyss had originally become the most obedient part of her—meaning it would appear when she needed it and leave when she didn't.
But she had pushed it too hard in this fight—so hard that the gun, the bullets, the petals, and everything that could be manifested had been exhausted in that final shot.
Having been drained, the distortion power could not return to its stable state and began to surge wildly through her veins.
She helped him to the remaining piece of the concrete block that hadn't fully collapsed, letting him lean against it in a half-sitting position.
Only now did Luo Yang see her face. It was deathly pale, with dark circles under her eyes. The spider lily in her left pupil had emerged and was spinning rapidly—so fast that he could no longer see the shape of the flower; it was just a chaotic blur of red.
“I’m… fine,” she said.
As she finished those three words, a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth.
Luo Yang wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but he couldn't lift his arm at all.
The only reason he was still conscious was thanks to the life-sustaining effect of Bloodfall.
“Shubai…”
This was the first time he had called her by her name.
Not Miss Chief, not Qiu Shubai, just those two syllables.
She heard him and gave a faint smile.
It was a very light smile, as if she were afraid of waking something up.
Then, the fifth white mark snapped into existence on her left wrist.
Qiu Shubai’s knees buckled, and the hand that had been supporting Luo Yang slid from his chest.
She collapsed toward the lifeless earth.
Rate on N.U.
