Chapter 277: Purification and the Blood Pool

An inexhaustible tide of life force surged forth from the Banner of Triumph, flooding into Wang Yu’s body with frenzied momentum.

Even though only a tenth of the banner’s total life force was fed back into him, that quantity was already immense beyond imagination.

Like a torrential flood, the life force swept through Wang Yu’s body. In the blink of an eye, it scoured away every trace of weariness he had accrued in the recent battle—not that there had been much to begin with—and burrowing into the core of his being.

This most primal essence of life, pure and untainted, was readily absorbed by the flesh. Beneficial to nearly all beings, save for the undead and elemental constructs, it was, in most cases, something that could never be had in excess.

Somehow, Wang Yu had run into the opposite problem. There was so much life force flooding into him that even his grand knight’s physique was straining under its onslaught.

The life force penetrated bone, muscle, skin—every fiber of his being capable of housing vitality—and filled those reservoirs to their limits.

In the process, certain impurities that had long been hidden within his flesh were forcefully driven out. They dispersed into the air. The sheer density of the life force was starting to affect the material world and subtly warping the surrounding reality.

A sense of piercing clarity struck Wang Yu first. The sensation of one’s body being bathed in such an unblemished, harmless energy was almost euphoric—like plunging into a perfectly temperate river after laboring beneath a sweltering sun, shedding grime, sweat, and exhaustion in one cleansing plunge. It was a clarity that transcended language.

But the relief was short-lived. The sensation soon morphed into a bloated, pressing pain.

The highly concentrated life force began to transmute. No longer formless, it became a semi-liquid substance like the lifeblood that coursed through the heart of the Tree of Life.

Translucent green droplets swiftly coalesced within him. Wang Yu’s already-overburdened body could contain no more of these “blessings.”

“As expected… Good thing I made preparations. I wouldn’t have stood a chance otherwise. Among everyone here, only the Professor could bear this much life force,” Wang Yu muttered.

Without hesitation, he guided his shattered starsteel blade to slash open the arteries through his wrist and neck. Crimson blood burst from the wounds like twin geysers, cascading down onto the back of the World-Eater below and pooling quickly into a red stream.

It was a grisly sight. Drenched in red, Wang Yu looked as though he were being consumed by his own blood. The iron stench of blood pierced through the corruption-saturated air, spreading in all directions.

But to Wang Yu, who wielded the Blood Tempest secret art, bleeding was no cause for fear. In fact, it was a deliberate release: an outlet through which the excessive life force could be expelled.

“Phew… much better.”

Murmuring under his breath, Wang Yu, who looked anything but comfortable, nevertheless felt a certain lightness return to his frame.

He was repeatedly draining blood saturated with life force, then refilling his veins with new, enriched blood. Through this loop, he was able to maintain a delicate balance.

His body still felt as if it were about to burst, but the pressure was receding. It felt as if his body was slowly starting to adapt and would now be capable of accepting even more life force.

But now wasn’t the time for reflection. Still bleeding like a walking fountain, Wang Yu began to sprint. He raced along the World-Eater’s gargantuan form. The blood he had shed, and the blood he continued to spill, surged with him, trailing behind in a crimson tide.

His destination was the Blighted Warspike clenched in the monster’s limb. The World-Eater had not yet died, not completely. It had merely lost its grotesque regeneration.

With the Iron King incapacitated, and the other combatants having already retreated from the battlefield, only the corrupted holy spear could swiftly end the beast’s life.

Of course, at this point, igniting his Cursed Fire would work too. The life force fed back from the Banner of Triumph was his in a very real and absolute sense. It might even be enough to immolate the Tree of Life itself. But if he lost control of the flame, he’d be nothing but ash before anyone could save him.

The World-Eater had stopped short as access to its life force was cut off, but when Wang Yu raced down the World-Eater’s immense body, it began to move once more. Its grotesque limbs flailed into empty space, slowly hauling its bulk aloft through some unseen force.

An overwhelming void filled the World-Eater’s consciousness—a hollow hunger so profound it bordered on spiritual desolation.

For the first time, it felt not merely hunger for life force, but the terror of impending death. A primal yearning to live now eclipsed even its boundless appetite.

Its mind could hold no other thought. Even as Wang Yu sprinted across its body, trailing an ever-expanding sea of blood, the beast failed to notice his presence. It didn’t even sense Sieg leaping onto its body from the rear.

All that remained within the World-Eater was a single, desperate instinct: to return to the Tree of Life, to return to its mother. That doting mother would surely bestow upon it whatever vitality remained within her. If it could just reach her, it could survive.

A blinding bolt of lightning cracked down from the sky, striking the World-Eater square on the head. The impact sent its wormlike body lurching in mid-air. Avia’s magic had arrived just in time.

The thunderous might of a fifth-tier spell was partially absorbed by the World-Eater’s enormous mass. Its residual strength withstood the rest. Though severed from its source of life force, the World-Eater did not yet fall.

It wasn’t far from the Tree of Life. Bolstered by the momentum its bulk afforded, the World-Eater would reach it in no time.

Its massive eyes locked onto a wound torn into the tree’s trunk—a hole it had made earlier to rip the holy lance from within. The life force seeping from that cavity was salvation.

A limb reached forward, clawing toward the opening. If it could only send its corruption flowing in…

“Your mother might spoil you,” Wang Yu’s voice rang out coldly, “but I sure as hell won’t. If she’s going to pamper this repulsive thing, then let someone else teach you a real lesson.”

Wang Yu’s words weren’t meant for the beast, so it didn’t matter whether or not it could comprehend him.

Just as the World-Eater’s limb was about to breach the Tree’s wound, Wang Yu, now a veritable geyser of blood, reached its head. A blood tide surged around him, brimming with vitality and guided by his Blood Tempest.

A colossal, bloody hand struck forth with a roar, driving itself between the World-Eater and the Tree of Life. Never before had such an ocean of blood been harnessed by the secret art—and never had it struck with such fury.

The bloodforged hand slammed into the beast, halting its ascent in mid-air. Then its fingers clamped shut around the monster’s head. The pressure was immense. It snapped the World-Eater’s bones and crushed its shell.

Wang Yu had never attempted to wield Blood Tempest on such a scale. He’d never had this much raw life force to transmute into blood. Still, quantity made no difference—the technique treated all blood equally.

His fighting spirit was burning at a furious pace. The blood hand’s power was terrifying, as was its cost.

Within ten seconds, all of Wang Yu’s energy would be gone—despite being forcefully regenerated by the life force he channeled. Under normal circumstances, a single second would have emptied his reserves.

Wasting no further time, Wang Yu accelerated forward. He gripped the shattered starsteel blade in both hands as he leapt up high. Targeting the World-Eater’s limb that clutched the corrupted holy lance, he brought the blade down with all his might.

The sound was muted, almost anticlimactic. The corrupted limb was severed in a single strike, clean as paper. The Blighted Warspike tumbled from its grasp and began to fall.

“Professor, the rest is up to you!”

With his remaining three seconds of strength, Wang Yu redirected the blood-formed hand, caught the falling weapon, and flung the massive corrupted spear skyward—right at the World-Eater’s upper body.

There, Sieg stood ready. Arcs of violet lightning, a symbol of gravity magic, danced around his humanoid frame, drawn from the runic circuits inscribed upon his dragon form. He had pushed draconic power to its utmost limit, skirting the boundary of what “It” might detect.

The blood hand dissolved into crimson rain as Wang Yu’s fighting spirit gave out. Wang Yu himself began to plummet.

“Leave it to me!”

Sieg’s voice and a sudden blast of wind arrived simultaneously. A cyclone of force swept up the falling knight, hurtling him back toward the beast’s body. Avia’s long-range spell had arrived in the nick of time, completing the penultimate step of their deadly choreography.

The Blighted Warspike plummeted—only to be caught in mid-air. Bolstered by gravity magic and his own herculean strength, Sieg managed to halt the weapon’s fall.

“Now!”

Back atop the World-Eater, Wang Yu placed his hand on Sieg’s back. The Chariot’s power surged forth, conducting all that was “Wang Yu’s” into Sieg.

An ocean of life force poured through that conduit, flooding into Sieg in a single overwhelming surge.

For Wang Yu, it was too much to bear. For Sieg in human form, it would nearly have been so. Yet thanks to his dimensional space where his dragon body was stored, a mirror of the World-Eater’s bubble of life force, Sieg could endure what none other present could.

The life force flowed into that space like the tide, absorbed by his draconic body. The sensation was intoxicating—he hadn’t felt this full in ages.

Even his draconic form couldn’t absorb it all. Excess life force spilled out, rippling through the space like a flooding river.

Sieg drew upon that surplus and directed it all into the corrupted weapon in his grasp.

No longer imbued with blight, the purest of life force began to scour the fallen lance. The sea of vitality washed over the Blighted Warspike, stripping it clean of its corruption. The dark husk shattered away, revealing beneath a wooden core, warm and glowing golden in the tide of life.

The Blighted Warspike had been reborn. It was once again the Primeval Lance Kasimir.

Gripped in Sieg’s hand, filled with overwhelming life force, the holy weapon began to charge up. It gathered more than enough power to annihilate the World-Eater in a single, radiant strike.

Gleaming motes of light gathered at the lance’s tip. The stream of life force took the form of golden trails of energy spiraling around its shaft—pure, sanctified, magnificent, a far cry from the crimson devastation it had unleashed in its corrupted form.

The Holy Lance was poised directly atop the World-Eater, its tip just touching the creature’s flesh. Every ounce of divine power surged without reserve into the monstrous worm’s body.

Terrifying destructive force tore through its wormlike shell, ripping apart its rotting, fetid flesh. The devastation burst outward from gaping wounds, saturating the air with the stench of corruption.

In an instant, the World-Eater was annihilated from within. Golden light streamed through the ruins of its flesh, swirling amid the fragments—a radiant, sacred brilliance teeming with vitality. Yet though all of that tremendous power was driven wholly into the beast, Sieg and Wang Yu, standing upon it, remained utterly unharmed.

The creature that Wang Yu had named the World-Eater was erased without a trace. And wthout its source of life force, a resurrection was now impossible.

Sieg and Wang Yu began to fall. In the sky, the two reached toward one another, exchanging a high five in mid-air. Avia watched them with a smile. Mana gathered at her fingertips as she prepared to summon a cyclone to catch the two of them. But before her spell could take form, something else moved: the scarred but still-living Tree of Life.

A branch, one of the few not yet ruined by battle or tainted by corruption, swept forward and gently caught the falling figures of Wang Yu and Sieg, as well as the Primeval Lance Kasimir.

“Looks like this mother has awakened,” Sieg remarked as he glanced at the Tree of Life. “There’s just one last step left: to return to her the life force that belonged to her all along.”

He could sense it—the Tree of Life had freed itself from the devils’ distortion. Devils could not truly control such a being; at most, they could distort its will for some time. But now, the mighty tree had reclaimed its will anew.

“Agreed. That’ll make things much simpler. We were going to need the elves to escort us inside. Now, it looks like she’ll take care of that herself.”

Wang Yu nodded. The Tree’s awakening had indeed saved them considerable effort.

The great branch carried them toward the hole torn in the Tree’s trunk—the very one the World-Eater had carved open when it pulled the Primeval Lance from within. It seemed the Tree already knew their intent.

From that wound, Wang Yu and Sieg stepped into the interior of the Tree of Life. Moments later, the Primeval Lance was gently passed in by another curling branch.

“Is this the Heartpool Madam Moira spoke of?” Wang Yu asked.

He gazed around the Tree’s heart—a space so sacred that only elven elders were ever permitted to enter. Once, it had likely been brimming with vitality; now, by contrast, it seemed depleted.

At the center of the chamber lay a pool of shallow, translucent, pale green liquid—life force in liquid form. It was, Wang Yu guessed, the very thing the World-Eater had been ravenously trying to reach.

“I never imagined I’d have the chance to step inside the Tree of Life,” Sieg said, his voice full of reverence. “For a scholar, this is a rare and priceless opportunity. But still—let’s handle what matters most first. Let’s return the rest of the life force to her.”

Sieg, too, examined the surroundings with awe. For one who had dedicated his life to study, this was the stuff of legend. But he hadn’t forgotten their purpose.

Vines extended from the chamber walls—extensions of the Tree itself—and wrapped gently around the Primeval Lance. They lifted it, carried it toward the Heartpool, and slowly lowered it into the glowing waters, returning it to the place it once belonged.

“Come,” Sieg whispered, placing his palm upon the shaft of the lance. “This was always meant to be yours.”

From the dimensional space where his draconic body slumbered, he released the remainder of the stored life force. All of it flowed through the Holy Lance, not as a weapon, but as a bridge—an offering. It passed into the Tree.

A faint chime rang out, soft and ethereal. Green motes of light rose around them like fireflies. In the air, barely audible, a melody stirred. It was as though someone were singing—a wordless tune of joy and gratitude.

The Primeval Lance grew brighter, shedding its dimness as life force filled it once more. And through the bond it shared with the Tree, that joy, that deep gratitude, flowed directly into Sieg’s soul. He smiled unconsciously.

Outside, the Tree of Life began to heal. The corrupted gouges on its bark slowly knit together. The blackened scars left by the Blighted Warspike faded. The yawning wound where the lance had once been torn free closed with a gentle sigh.

And as the Tree recovered from the devil’s corruption, the elves awoke as well. They looked upon the heart of Liaheim that had once again begun to pulse with life—their great guardian, rising anew from death—and wept. Tears of mingled grief and joy streamed down their cheeks.

As for Wang Yu, the Tree of Life had likewise tried to convey to him that same joy and thanks. Unfortunately, he was incapable of sensing it. For reasons of his own, that kind of communion simply didn’t reach him.

His attention was elsewhere. Something new had emerged within him. Thanks to the Banner of Triumph, he had gained access to ten percent of the life force the World-Eater had accumulated over decades. One percent had been consumed by his blood-fueled attacks. Eight percent had been passed to Sieg. And Sieg, using the Primeval Lance, had returned roughly seven percent to the Tree of Life to restore it.

But about one percent had vanished somewhere inside Wang Yu. That was the moment he first sensed something was changing within him. His body, once overwhelmed by that torrent of life, was now stabilizing. The swelling pressure had subsided.

Something new had been created. A transformation had occurred within him—a change that extended not just to his flesh, but to his very structure. A new organ, or perhaps something greater.

Near his abdomen, he could feel a hollow space that hadn’t been there before. It was akin to the World-Eater’s bubble of life force, or the space where Sieg stored his dragon form.

But this space didn’t store life force. It held blood: a bloodpool…

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