Chapter 67 – The Blood Moon and the Adarna's Grace
As the Slaughter King raised his obsidian-red scepter, the very air began to curdle with the scent of a thousand year old decay. "By the blood of the fallen, become my barrier!" he hissed. The shadows on the arena floor surged toward the unconscious Shrek members and the commoners in the stands, intending to weave their life essence into a Wall of Living Flesh, a macabre shield to halt the Martial Soul Hall's advance.
But the heavens did not remain silent.
A pillar of pure, solar radiance slammed down from the highest spire of the Elder Palace. Qian Daoliu, the High Priest, has finally moved. He did not descend, but his intent was absolute. A massive, spectral wing of a six winged Seraph swept across the stands, severing the Slaughter King's shadow threads before they could claim a single life.
"Not in this city, monster," Daoliu's voice boomed, resonant with the authority of the Sun.
The Slaughter King snarled, his eyes glowing with a manic, crimson light. Denied his sacrifice, he triggered a contingency, the Abyssal Hemorrhage. He bit his own tongue, spitting a mouthful of his corrupted, Level 99 blood into the air. The blood didn't fall, it expanded into a mist of microscopic, razor sharp needles that vibrated at a frequency designed to bypass soul power shields. This Blood Mist formed a corrosive dome around the center of the ring, specifically tuned to stall Bibi Dong. Even with her purified Level 99 power, the sheer toxicity of the Slaughter King's essence forced her to slow her pace to protect her own meridians from the airborne poison.
This split second of chaos was all Tang Hao needed. Coughing up a mouthful of visceral blood, his body trembling from the internal damage of Lakan's Octagonal Collapse, he lunged forward.
"Xiao San! Xiao Wu!"
With a roar that sounded more like a dying animal than a God of War, he grabbed both of them by their collars. Using the last dregs of his soul power and the momentum from his Ring Explosion, he transformed into a streak of black lightning. He didn't look back at the glory he had lost; he only saw the distant mountains. He vanished from the arena, leaving a trail of blood and the shattered remnants of his pride behind.
Lakan stood at the center of the dome, his Silver Stone skin fading as the 56x Overdrive ended. The Ash State threatened to claim him, a paralysis that would leave any other master a husk.
But Lakan is no ordinary master.
"Acupoints... ignite," Lakan whispered. (Lakan, despite his exhaustion, must use his 36 Star Acupoints to quickly recover.) The 36 Heavenly Star Acupoints across his body began to pulse like a miniature galaxy. Instead of being empty, they released the Nature Energy he had siphoned during the fight, acting as a jump-start for his heart.
Then, the Ibong Adarna behind him spread its wings.
"Awit ng Paghilom" (Song of Healing).
The Adarna sang, a low, melodic hum that vibrated with the essence of life itself. The iridescent light didn't just wash over Lakan, stitching his torn muscles and cooling his overheated meridians; it expanded. The healing waves reached the exhausted Shrek members, Dai Mubai, Oscar, and Tai Long, stabilizing their life signs even as they remained unconscious. Lakan's grace was absolute; even in victory, he did not allow his rivals to die like dogs.
"Dong'er, stay back and handle the King," Lakan said, his voice now steady and cold. "I'll handle the old man."
Lakan's back erupted in a burst of ten-colored light. His External Soul Bone: Wings of the Ten-Headed Phoenix unfurled to their full ten meter span. With a single, explosive flap, he broke the sound barrier, the sonic boom clearing the Slaughter King's blood-mist in his wake.
The chase through the Wuhun Mountains was a blur of stone and sky. Tang Hao was fast, fueled by the desperation of a father, but Lakan was the wind itself. Using the Diamond Glide in mid air, Lakan warped through the canyons, closing the gap until he hovered directly above the fleeing trio just at the edge of the Great Star Dou Forest.
Lakan descended like a falling star, landing softly ten paces ahead of them. Tang Hao skidded to a halt, dropping Tang San and Xiao Wu as he raised a trembling fist. He didn't even have his hammer anymore; it was back in the arena, shattered.
"Leave... them..." Tang Hao wheezed, his eyes glazed with pain.
Lakan looked at the three of them. He could have used his Fist Intent, the crushing weight of the Sovereign's Will that could shatter a soul's resolve, but he held it back. He didn't need it.
"Look at you," Lakan said, his voice carrying a touch of pity. "The God of War and the Genius of the Era, huddled in the dirt like refugees. Tang San, you talk of protecting her, but all you've done is bring her to the edge of an early grave."
Tang San glared at Lakan, his hand clutching a hidden dart, but his fingers were too weak to throw it. "You... you don't understand love. You only understand power."
Lakan chuckled, a dry, witty sound. "Love without power is just a tragedy waiting to happen, Tang San. I am letting you go today. Not because I fear your father, and not because I am merciful." Lakan stepped closer, his shadow looming over them. "I am letting you go because I want you to watch. Watch as I build the world you failed to protect. Watch as the Soul Spirit System makes your Clear Sky legacy obsolete. Go to the forest. Hide. But know that the next time we meet, the Hero will have no more stories to tell."
Lakan turned his back on them, the ultimate insult. "Go. Before my Dong'er decides she wants a new fur coat."
With a flick of his wings, Lakan ascended, leaving the three of them in the silence of the forest border.
•••••••••••••••
When Lakan returned to Spirit City, the sky was no longer blue, it was a bruised purple, torn by the clashing of Level 99 domains.
The arena was gone, replaced by a crater of glass. At the center stood three figures, forming a triangle of absolute power.
Qian Daoliu, Clad in golden armor, his Seraphim wings radiating a holy fire that burned away the shadows.
Bibi Dong, Her scepter held high, her purple and gold aura sharpened into a web of Rakshasa-purified light that acted as a cage.
The Slaughter King, his cloak torn, his body mutated by the blood-ritual into something monstrous, his dual red blades dripping with a liquid that ate through the very air.
The citizens had been evacuated, the Spirit City now a ghost town under the weight of their combined pressures. The Slaughter King realized he was trapped between the Sun and the Moon.
"Lakan!" Bibi Dong called out as he landed beside her. "The Slaughter King refuses to return to his hole. He thinks he can claim this city as his new domain."
Lakan looked at the Slaughter King, sensing the deep, twisted corruption within. He realized then that the King wasn't just a man, he was the vessel for a failed trial of Asura. To claim the Slaughter City, he didn't just need to kill the King, he needed to overwrite the King's existence with the Adarna's Song.