Purple-black light flickered.

A head—face twisted in rage and unwillingness—spun into the air. Blood fountained from the headless neck.

The Clear Sky Sect’s current master, Howling Sky Douluo Tang Xiao—dead.

“Uncle—!!!”

In the distance, as Flender, Liu Erlong, and others fought desperately to cover a retreating Tang San, he saw the brutal scene with his own eyes. His pupils went scarlet in an instant. Unparalleled hatred erupted like a volcano, tearing at his reason.

One of the few blood kin he still had in this world.

The killing went on.

Several royal worships of Star Luo fell one after another under the combined assault of spirit hall’s six worships and many Elders, blood spattering the sky.

On another front, the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect’s withdrawal was decisive and efficient.

At the instant Bibi Dong’s divine might erupted, Ning Fengzhi said without hesitation, “Uncle Sword, Uncle Bone—go.”

Without a second’s delay, Sword Douluo unleashed his sword qi domain; countless blades of qi stormed outward, forcing back his entangling foes for a moment.

Bone Douluo ripped space itself; a giant bone-dragon claw snatched Ning Fengzhi and core disciples, then stepped into the void.

Several Elders attempted pursuit, but Chen Xin’s cold backward slash forced them to halt.

Remembering how Spirit Kite Douluo had been cut down in one stroke and facing Sword Douluo’s killing gaze, they balked from chasing deep, only watching as the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect vanished from the chaotic field.

Not all Titled Douluo were so lucky.

At the battlefield’s edge, Poison Douluo Dugu Bo spread his Jade Phosphor poison, driving off several Soul Douluo-tier foes. Seeing the tide turned, he flashed into a green streak to flee.

“Old poison, where do you think you’re going?”

A silky voice sounded. A golden waterfall of Chrysanthemum petals fell, blocking his path.

Yue Guan emerged amid the rain of flowers, eyes complicated as he looked upon his lifelong rival.

At the same time, two figures sealed Dugu Bo’s flanks.

On the left, the Porcupinefish Douluo swelled, poison sacs pulsing, stench no weaker than the Jade Phosphor’s.

On the right, Snake Lance Douluo leveled a long spear, its tip locking onto Dugu Bo’s qi.

“Yue Guan—ganging up is the Spirit Hall way?”

Dugu Bo’s face was grim—he knew this wouldn’t end well.

Porcupinefish cackled, “Dugu Bo, your poison’s not much use on us.”

Snake Lance said coldly, “Submit, and you might keep a whole corpse.”

“Hmph!”

Dugu Bo snorted. The Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor true body rose, vast coils roiling toxic clouds.

“I’ve roamed this continent a lifetime—would I beg from hounds like you? If you want my life—pay with your own!”

Battle erupted instantly.

Knowing it was the end, Dugu Bo used nothing but kill-or-be-killed moves, spewing venom without limit to corrode everything.

Porcupinefish countered poison with poison, devouring and neutralizing toxins; Snake Lance’s extreme speed and penetration made the spear a striking viper, gouging deep wounds in the serpent’s armored scales.

The main assault came from Yue Guan.

“Ninth Soul Skill—Chrysanthemum Withers, Wounds Blanket the Ground, Petals Fall and Entrails Break!”

At last, he used his strongest technique.

Innumerable golden petals turned into the sharpest blades, a destructive golden storm engulfing the Jade Phosphor Serpent’s colossal form.

Scales shattered; blood sprayed.

Dugu Bo’s defenses were torn open; his true body forced to fade. He staggered back, covered in bone-deep wounds, aura withering.

He looked at the closing Yue Guan, a flicker of irony in his eyes. “To die by your hand… is better than by nameless rabble…”

Yue Guan was silent for a beat. A golden chrysanthemum blade formed in his hand. He said softly, “Old poison—safe travels.”

A flash of gold.

The blade pierced Dugu Bo’s heart.

A generation’s Poison Douluo—fallen.

…

In rugged mountain passes, Tang San’s group fled under cover of night and forest.

Relentless battle, the grief of fallen kin and friends, and the strain of flight had nearly broken this battered remnant.

Just as they rounded a hollow, believing themselves briefly safe, figures blocked the road ahead.

Moonlight fell, showing their faces clearly—Huo Yuhao’s stern expression, older Xiao Wu’s lively gaze at his side, and the steady presences of Bei Bei and Tang Ya.

And most striking of all, a man leaning with folded arms against the rock, eyes half-closed, seemingly detached yet radiating invisible pressure—Jing Yuan.

“Stop!”

Tang San’s hand snapped up, his voice hoarse but wary.

Their fleeing column tightened. Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun moved to the front. Oscar swiftly made recovery sausages and passed them out. Zhu Zhuqing and Ning Rongrong guarded the flanks. Xiao Wu pressed tight to Tang San. Yu Xiaogang, Flender, and Liu Erlong entered battle stances.

When Tang San’s gaze locked onto Huo Yuhao’s face, an uncontrollable surge of fury and humiliation crashed over his mind, reddening his eyes.

It was him—the one who had killed him again and again in the simulated universe with all manner of methods, making him experience countless deaths and humiliations.

Those memories were nightmare-deep in his soul. Normally suppressed—now, with enemies meeting, the lava of hate erupted.

“It’s you!”

Tang San ground the words out, fingers already on the deadliest hidden weapons in his Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges—Stormpear Blossom Needles, Peacock Plume… His Xuantian skill roared; his killing intent was nearly tangible.

At Tang San’s side, Xiao Wu’s gaze was drawn, despite herself, to the figure beside Huo Yuhao.

It was another, more mature version of herself—the same scorpion-tail braid, the same lovely face—but with pink eyes holding an emotion she couldn’t fathom.

In the instant their eyes met, a chill rose from the depths of Xiao Wu’s soul. She trembled, as if facing a nemesis, as if she’d glimpsed a fixed, ill fate. A sense of looming catastrophe clutched her heart.

“That bastard!”

Dai Mubai recognized Huo Yuhao, a white tiger phantom flickering behind him.

Ma Hongjun blazed up, phoenix flames flaring.

The hot-tempered Liu Erlong, seeing Huo Yuhao, had her anger surge in a heartbeat. She roared:

“You little wretch dare show yourself—come pay with your life!”

She was about to charge with Fire Dragon possession.

“Erlong—calm down.”

Flender clamped her arm. “This isn’t the time for rashness.”

“Let me go, Boss Flender—I’ll kill him!” Liu Erlong struggled.

“Erlong, listen.” Yu Xiaogang’s voice was hoarse and heavy. He pressed her shoulder, eyes full of weariness and helplessness.

“We’re defeated soldiers, fleeing for our lives. Any needless clash could wipe us all out.”

The Grandmaster’s authority and reason finally kept Liu Erlong in check—she stomped, eyes blazing at Huo Yuhao, but didn’t rush forward.

Yu Xiaogang stepped up, gaze passing over Huo Yuhao’s group, finally settling on the obvious leader—Huo Yuhao. He asked in a low voice:

“You bar our path—what is your intent?”

Huo Yuhao’s mouth curved in a cold arc, a smile without warmth, only naked contempt and killing intent.

For reasons unknown, from the first time he’d seen Tang San in the simulated universe, a primal, causeless disgust had welled up within him—spilling over onto the rest of Shrek’s Seven Devils.

He couldn’t be bothered to probe why—and didn’t care.

In his eyes, the people before him were merely pitiful soon-to-be dead.

“Our intent?”

He sneered. Scarlet light burst in his spirit eyes.

“To send you… where you belong.”

Before the last word fell, he traced the air with one hand. A giant gray-white gate of deathly cold opened behind him amid grating bone-scrapes and the wails of the dead.

The gate to the half-plane of Undeath yawned open.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The heavy, even drum of hooves sounded like a funeral knell upon the heart.

First out was a square phalanx of undead knights.

They wore rusted yet sturdy armor, soul-flames of azure burning in their sockets, wielding death-wreathed lances and greatswords.

Most chilling, above the skulls of both riders and their skeletal steeds hovered faint gold halos—undead imbued with light, created by Electrolux.

They combined undead fearlessness with restraint toward the living, and resistance to holy power.

Behind them surged tides of skeletal soldiers with bone blades and shields.

Lurching, reeking zombies, slow but strong.

Liches floated in the air, bone staves in hand, chanting eerie spells.

And overhead, several bone dragons beat vast wings, casting shadows of despair.

Master of an entire undead half-plane, Huo Yuhao—though not yet at peak cultivation—already possessed army-level might in himself.

With this endless undead host, he dared face true Titled Douluo—let alone this battered, soul-power-drained remnant before him.

The Scourge of Undeath bared its fangs in the silent gorge.

Cold death-chill spread, sealing Tang San’s last road.

As the gate yawned and the unending dead flooded out, turning the narrow path into an underworld, Bei Bei’s face went ashen.

He whipped toward Huo Yuhao, voice trembling with anger and shock:

“Yuhao, what are you doing?! We agreed—only to take the Blue Silver Emperor bone from Tang San, to restore Xiao Ya’s life—why must you drive them to extinction?!”

His anxious eyes swept Tang San’s ready ranks—pausing for an instant on Yu Xiaogang and Liu Erlong—his gaze complex, struggling.

They were, after all, his own blood’s forebears.

“Besides… among them, there’s…” Bei Bei’s voice faltered, tinged with plea.

“Hmph.”

Huo Yuhao cut him off with a cold snort.

His spirit eyes, filled with endless ice and pressure, swept over Bei Bei with a cruel clarity and mockery.

“Senior brother—you’re too naive.”

His voice was ice, without the slightest give.

“You must have considered this: the Blue Silver Emperor bone has clearly been fully refined by Tang San—merged with his right leg. To take it, you’d have to sever limb and shatter bone. That would cripple him. With such hatred, you expect him to laugh it off and not seek revenge later?”

His words flayed the bloody truth, layer by layer:

“Don’t forget—these people before us, on the original path of history, became gods. Who can guarantee that even now, in such a desperate plight, they won’t gain some heaven-defying fortune and soar? When that happens—you, me, Teacher Xiao Ya… who can bear a god’s wrath?”

His gaze stabbed at the deepest fear in Bei Bei’s heart:

“Will you gamble Teacher Xiao Ya’s future safety on a moment’s mercy? Since we’ve chosen to act, we must pull the grass up by the roots and leave no future bane. Today—not one of them walks away.”

“I…”

Bei Bei jolted as if thunderstruck.

Each word hammered his heart.

He looked at Tang Ya at his side—her eyes still somewhat vacant, fingers clinging to his clothes. Panic seized him.

Yes—he couldn’t risk it.

He couldn’t wager even a sliver of Xiao Ya’s safety.

Leave survivors today, and tomorrow’s mortal threat is assured. For Xiao Ya… so that she may live…

Bei Bei bit down hard on his lip—nearly to blood.

He struggled. In the end, the last hesitation in his eyes hardened into icy resolve.

He raised his head slowly. Meeting Tang San’s shocked, angry gaze, he closed his eyes in pain—and when he opened them again, only heavy apology and unshakable determination remained.

“I’m sorry…”

His voice was low and hoarse, laden with guilt—yet utterly clear.

“For Xiao Ya… I cannot… leave any risk.”

In the end, he chose to stand with Huo Yuhao—even at the price of burying the source of his own bloodline with his own hands.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep