Above the deep pit, smoke hung like gauze, slowly dispersing to reveal a sky torn by sword aura.
From the countless cracks, an unusual light faintly seeped through, as if there were another world beyond the firmament.
From afar, the sounds of slaughter and the booming collisions of soul skills rolled in like a distant tide, only making the deathly stillness at the bottom of the pit feel even more tomb-like.
Huo Yuhao knelt on one knee, with half his body laid bare to stark, gleaming bone.
He could clearly feel the soul power within him receding like an ebbing tide, each inch of bone crying out under unbearable strain.
Yet the blood-streaked corner of his mouth curled into a broken but bright smile—at least, they were still alive.
Bei Bei leaned against the freezing pit wall, Tang Ya unconscious in his arms, and Yae Sakura at his side barely clinging to life.
He stared at the scene before him, his heart a mire of mixed feelings, the bitterness and weight threatening to drown him.
His gaze finally fell upon the heroic spirit about to disperse, carrying silent respect and mourning.
"Master, forgive me. This is as far as I go."
Siegfried's voice remained steady, but it could not hide the exhaustion etched into his very bones.
His towering figure had grown translucent, his silver armor dim and lusterless. The magic sword Balmung was thrust into the ground at a slant, the glow along its blade flickering like a candle in the wind.
He glanced toward Dai Huabin, a trace of the faintest regret flickering in his eyes, as if lamenting what could have been.
Then, his entire being fragmented into countless fine black motes, like ash scattered by an invisible wind, drifting and fluttering until they completely vanished into the frigid air—this dragon-slaying hero of legend, after burning his last light and heat upon this foreign battlefield, met a silent curtain call.
Xu Sanshi stood rigid, his expression too complex to name.
He knew clearly that if Siegfried hadn't erupted with power beyond his limits at the final moment—rushing in to save them despite death—he and Dai Huabin would already be bones.
To witness this noble Servant's departure with his own eyes stirred within him a wordless sense of melancholy and grief.
It was pity for a hero at his end—unrelated to factions or stances—only for that resolve to do what must not be done, to die without regret.
Dai Huabin stared blankly down at the crimson Command Seal on the back of his hand.
It was fading before his eyes, thinning and vanishing like blood washed away by water; in moments, it was gone without a trace, his skin smooth as though it had never borne any mark.
Only when the last thread of connection snapped did he jolt awake from his haze—Siegfried was truly gone, together with the bond forged by contract, departed entirely from this brutal Holy Grail War.
A vast emptiness seized him in an instant.
And in that split second of lapse—
Change struck!
A blood-red ice spike, cold to the marrow, burst from the scorched earth without warning, lunging straight for Dai Huabin.
It carried a soul-freezing chill, faster than sight could follow, aimed directly at his heart!
"Ssshhkk—!"
The muffled rip of blade through flesh was jarringly harsh.
Dai Huabin felt a chill in his chest, then an explosion of pain. His vision was abruptly filled by a slender but resolute black silhouette.
Warm liquid, sharp with an iron tang, splashed across his face and neck, turning his blood to ice.
"Huo Yuhao! How dare you!"
Xu Sanshi's roar burst out almost simultaneously, weighted with incredulous rage.
He had never imagined that Huo Yuhao, at a moment when both sides were spent, would strike such a lethal ambush without hesitation—and with such ruthless means.
In the distance, Huo Yuhao kept his arm raised. At the fingertips of his half-skeletal arm, tendrils of extreme cold coiled like living things.
His icy gaze pierced the drifting dust to the pit below. The feral curl at his lips widened, hatred suppressed for over a decade boiling with the savage satisfaction of release.
All the forbearance, all the pain—found their outlet in this single strike.
"Hua…bin… run…"
Zhu Lu's voice came halting and faint, like a sigh about to dissipate.
Her frail body stood firm between Dai Huabin and the spike. The grotesque blood-red ice had pierced her back clean through, its sharp crystalline edge jutting out of her chest, stained a shocking red.
Scalding blood quickly soaked her black clothes, dripping along the spike to patter on the frozen earth, blooming into withered blossoms of crimson.
She struggled to lift her eyes. The look she gave Dai Huabin brimmed with endless reluctance and tenderness, but the light within them guttered like a candle in wind, dimming rapidly until it went out completely—returning to stillness.
"Zhu Lu… no… Zhu Lu!"
Dai Huabin reached out on instinct, catching her as she collapsed, her body rapidly turning cold.
Overwhelming panic and despair stabbed into his mind like an ice awl, leaving his thoughts a blank void.
Hot tears burst from his eyes without warning, running down his face, mingling with Zhu Lu's blood, carving a pitiful, wretched trail.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… Lulu…"
He clutched his lifeless fiancée in vain, muttering broken apologies over and over, his voice hoarse and so faint as to be nearly inaudible.
The ice spike that had run through Zhu Lu had not spent its force—and it showed no mercy as it buried itself in Dai Huabin's heart as well.
Agony crashed over him; his life force ebbed rapidly.
Darkness flooded his vision like a tide.
In the final instant before consciousness sank into endless night, he used the last of his strength to hold Zhu Lu tighter.
Their bodies pressed close, their blood mingled, as if in that despairing embrace they might, in death's domain, mend every distance, every misunderstanding, every missed chance of life.
Xu Sanshi stood where he was, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.
He had never thought much of Dai Huabin—in fact, he deeply loathed him. This arrogant, twisted junior had once coldly hired assassins to kill Huo Yuhao and had repeatedly caused trouble for their seniors—his conduct despicable.
Yet now, watching this young man and woman die entwined in such brutal fashion, seeing the brief reprieve Siegfried had bought with his own life turn to nothing in an instant, a blazing fury surged up and shattered Xu Sanshi's reason.
However unlikeable, however contemptible—they were still his juniors, people he knew. The deaths of Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu utterly enraged Xu Sanshi.
That noble Servant had chosen to die to protect them, only for the master he saved to be brutally slain in a blink.
How bitterly ironic—and how wretched!
More importantly, no matter their faults in life, Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu were inner court disciples of Shrek Academy, students taught by the elders of Sea God's Pavilion.
How could he explain this to the Academy? To Elder Xuan, to Dean Yan, to the teachers who might still be hoping they would return alive?
Crushing guilt and towering fury intertwined, as if to blow Xu Sanshi's chest apart.
He snapped his head up, bloodshot eyes locking on the distant figure, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles blanched bone-white and creaked.
In the pit, the stench of blood hung heavy. Stillness fell again, heavier and more suffocating than before.
Bei Bei sat dazed on the cold floor of the pit, holding the unconscious Tang Ya tight.
His unfocused gaze fell not far away—the bodies of Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu, locked in their final embrace, had gone cold. Blood beneath them congealed into a dark crust of ice, a cruel, silent tableau.
Huo Yuhao… had killed inner court disciples of Shrek Academy.
The realization settled on his chest like a block of lead, so heavy he could hardly breathe.
Whatever the reasons, whatever the festering grudges, Huo Yuhao killing inner court disciples was, to Shrek, an unforgivable crime.
The Academy would never turn a blind eye. The dignity of the Sea God's Pavilion could not be defied. Without it, how could they deter the world, how could they reassure their countless students?
From this day, there would be only a blood-soaked, no-retreat path between Shrek Academy and Huo Yuhao.
And as for Bei Bei himself? The "traitor" who, at the crucial moment, failed to stop the tragedy—and even stood ambiguously for the sake of protecting Tang Ya—could he still return to Shrek?
The Sea God Lake that bore his growth and glory, the solemn Soul-Fighting Grounds, the earnest teachings of his mentors… perhaps none of it belonged to him anymore.
The pain and confusion nearly tore him apart, but his arms around Tang Ya did not slacken in the slightest—they only tightened.
This was the choice he made. The cost was heavy. There was no going back.
"Huo Yuhao!"
As despair and silence spread, a phoenix's cry split the sky like thunder, sweeping in with towering wrath.
On the horizon, a blazing meteor of flame streaked closer. Ma Xiaotao was wreathed in golden-red True Phoenix Fire, gorgeous flaming wings spread wide, trailing a long tail of incandescence like an enraged phoenix descending to earth.
Extreme heat instantly flooded the entire pit; the air twisted and boiled from the blaze, the charred earth began to melt and hiss sharply, as though they stood at the heart of a furnace.
Her target was crystal clear—Huo Yuhao. The fire to burn all things was enough to vaporize steel.
"That won't do. I can't let you hurt our Church's Holy Son."
A crisp, lazily wicked woman's voice rang out.
The space seemed to ripple. The Scarlet Douluo, Fei Yan, appeared ghostlike in front of Huo Yuhao, perfectly intercepting Ma Xiaotao's unstoppable charge.
With a soft swish, her ornate parasol unfurled. Dark red ripples of eerie depth flowed across the canopy, as if it had drunk deeply of blood.
Soul power surged. A thick, condensed shield of soul power gleaming with ominous bloodlight unfolded in an instant, locking the exhausted, half-skeletal Huo Yuhao safely behind it.