Chapter 40
Dark Battle Angel: False Deity.
Pit Of The Damned~
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"Behold," Kuang Luosheng whispered, voice silk and venom. "The face of your doom."
Then, louder, jagged with madness: "Soul Decimating Blade!"
He raised two fingers like as a makeshift sword, and the skull vomited a blade woven from screaming souls.
One strike.
Experts flew like ragdolls, bodies cracking against the stone chairs, blood raining across the arena.
The laughter returned. Low. Guttural. Inhuman.
And yet, somehow, Kuang Luosheng still smirked. "What did I tell you? Comedy festival."
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•Ω•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Yang Jiang and Yin Feiyu had taken the brunt of the earlier assault. Their bodies were ragged, bloodied, and trembling; they had been in the lead, and thus received the full, merciless impact. Meanwhile, Yan Youmei and Yan Zhen, sharper in foresight, had chosen their ground more wisely, minimizing their wounds.
Kuang Luosheng tilted his head, the corners of his lips curling.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk… can't even take one proper hit, yet you strut around calling yourselves the 'top experts' of this generation? Pathetic. I've seen drunk beggars stagger through horse traffic with more grace."
The crowd shivered at his words. He didn't roar, he didn't shout — the venom lay in the casualness, the mockery.
But suddenly, Yang Jiang froze, his battered body quivering as his gaze fixed on the fading silhouette looming behind Kuang Luosheng. His pupils dilated. His lips trembled.
"That… that's a False Deity… this aura… it can only be a False Deity," he whispered hoarsely, blood spilling with each syllable.
The words spread like fire in a dry forest.
"A False Deity?"
"Impossible!"
"Unheard of!"
"We're screwed!"
"What even is that? I've never heard of such a thing!"
Confusion turned to terror. Most of the spectators had never even imagined what stood beyond the Celestial Idol stage. The mere *concept that there was something beyond it shattered their worldviews. Gasps and shrieks rippled through the stands.
Yet, amidst the panic, a few sharp-eyed figures exchanged glances. Their minds flashed back to the strange figure in a conical straw hat that had muttered about such an existence earlier. They turned toward where he had been seated—only to realize he was gone, vanished as abruptly as he had appeared.
Some swallowed hard, whispering, "Did he… perish?"
"Impossible!"
"Unheard of!"
"We're screwed!"
Others weren't so sure.
Meanwhile, Kuang Luosheng basked in the maelstrom of emotions directed at him — awe, horror, even twisted and perverse admiration. His grin widened, his teeth gleaming like they were afraid people wouldn't notice they weren't white.
"Jiejiejie… well, well, you aren't complete bumpkins after all," he drawled. His tone walked the razor's edge between mocking sarcasm and sinister praise.
Yang Jiang coughed violently, his voice brittle yet defiant.
"You! How is this possible? Your cultivation isn't much deeper than mine! How could your avatar transcend into a Deity?" Blood spattered with every word, proof of his crumbling body.
Kuang Luosheng cocked his head. "Oh? You can actually see through to my true cultivation? Remarkable. Truly, your dog's eyesight is sharp. But…" he leaned closer, his grin stretching wider, "…Unfortunately, it changes nothing. Jiejiejie."
That was when Lu Xietong's voice cut through, crisp and disdainful, like a dandy delivering commentary at a grotesque play.
"Your avatar is too powerful for you to fully control, isn't it?"
The words hung in the air like a dagger. A flicker of unease crossed Kuang Luosheng's face before he masked it with another smirk.
"Am I right?" Lu Xietong pressed.
Kuang's grin faltered — only for a heartbeat.
"You really are different, aren't you? No ordinary brat could notice that. Unless…" He gasped. "You're psychic." His voice trailed off, suspicion threading into his tone.
But Lu Xietong did not falter. Her eyes gleamed with cruel clarity as she spoke, tearing apart his façade before the crowd:
"You provoked them on purpose — made them lose their rationality. You played the coward behind that ward, luring them to attack together. A false weakness, a fake opening… all to make them expend everything at once. That way, you could crush them in a single sweep before your False Deity collapsed. If they'd fought you one by one…" She smirked, "you wouldn't last an hour."
"Impossible!"
"Unheard of!"
"We're screwed!"
The crowd bursted into low murmurs.
Her words sliced deeper than any blade. Kuang Luosheng's blood ran cold, though he masked it with hollow laughter.
"You little brat! So young, yet your insight runs deeper than most ancients." Throwing a not so concealed side eyes at the top experts present. "You're absolutely right. But too bad…" his voice turned venomous, "…the rest of these fools had no eyes. They danced to my tune like trained monkeys."
The crowd erupted in uproar, shock and humiliation burning through them.
"You bastard! Your Grandfather is the trained monkey. In fact, your ten ancestors and ten descendants are the trained monkeys!" Duan Mu roared, veins bulging. But Kuang silenced him with a single disdainful glance.
Yang Jiang, his body barely clinging to life, surged forward with rage. "You demon's spawn! Drop dead!" He summoned his Divine Idol, light flickering feebly — only to be swatted down like an insect. Kuang's hand lashed out, slapping him so hard he crumpled unconscious.
Kuang Luosheng scoffed.
"It seems your old man has a hobby — courting death. How quaint." His eyes slid toward Lu Xietong, who remained utterly calm, her gaze unflinching.
Rule 1 of the slacker's survival manual 101: The calmer you remain in chaos, the longer you live. LU Xietong thought.
With a flicker, Kuang Luosheng appeared within the ward. Yan Feitian had stirred at some unknown point, now sitting upright, dazed yet alive. Kuang's hand stretched out, his dark force yanking Yan Feitian effortlessly into his grasp.
"I'll devour him first," Kuang announced, his grin warping into something monstrous. "After all… one must always save the best meal for last."
His words slithered through the arena, making Lu Xietong's skin crawl.
'Wow, I'm now the dessert course. Fantastic. Nothing beats being treated as a gourmet delicacy by a psychotic demon. That's not concerning at all. How Comforting.' Lu Xietong thought bitterly, sarcasm coating her mental voice.
Kuang turned his attention back to Feitian, who struggled vainly like a moth in a spider's web.
"Kuang Luosheng, you've gone too far!" Yan Youmei's voice rang out at last from beyond the arena. It cracked the silence, fierce and determined.
Kuang sneered without turning. "Do you wish to burn your bridge after crossing it?"
The words detonated through the crowd.
"Bridge?"
"What bridge?"
"Wait… don't tell me she… made a deal with him?!"
"Impossible!"
"Unheard of!"
"We're screwed!"
Gasps and mutters snowballed into suspicion, into fury.
Yan Youmei's face paled, but her voice did not waver. "I don't know what you mean. But I do know this — I won't let you harm Yan Feitian!"
Kuang's eyes flicked lazily toward her, his grin now razor-thin. "My, my… such strong emotions. I wonder why. He's merely a sacrifice, nothing more. Think carefully, woman. Do you truly want to cross me? I'm fine either way — conflict or cooperation, both are entertaining."
Yan Youmei's face darkened, her eyes hard as steel.
"This is my final warning, Kuang Luosheng. You are the one crossing the line."
The crowd held its breath.
The curtain of chaos had only just risen.The arena inhaled as one — a held breath before the scream. Outside the ward, the air vibrated, thick with the electric promise of violence. Inside, hope thinned to a thread. Kuang's grin promised spectacle.
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