Under the onslaught of the undead army, Joan of Arc and Aglaea were forced to divert their attention to protect the weaker disciples, such as Ning Tian and Wu Feng, which momentarily slowed their offensive.
Zhongli Wu and the others finally seized this fleeting opportunity. They began to fight and retreat, attempting to break free from the entanglement of Xuan Zi and the rest of the group and escape the battlefield.
"Pursue them! We absolutely cannot let these Evil Soul Masters escape!" Xuan Zi roared. The Shrek contingent was in no mood to relent. They unleashed their soul power, launching an even more ferocious attack, relentlessly clinging to the main force of the Holy Spirit Cult with a determined, kill-or-be-killed fervor.
On the other side, Xiao Wu, who was fiercely battling Artoria and Cú Chulainn, suddenly paused.
She seemed to vaguely sense that Huo Yuhao was in extreme danger far away, and her heart tightened.
Subconsciously, she glanced toward the direction of the battle between Tang San and Jingliu. The familiar, warm aura emanating from that area stirred her deeply, making her intensely yearn to investigate—perhaps it was a relative, a forgotten existence from before her memory loss.
On one side was the possibility of relatives from before she lost her memory; on the other was her 'husband,' Huo Yuhao, who was besieged and needed rescue.
A trace of struggle and hesitation flashed across Xiao Wu's beautiful face.
Finally, she took a deep look at the distant sky, as if to imprint that warm aura into her heart, then stomped her foot firmly and hardened her resolve.
"Yuhao needs me more."
She stopped fighting, and a brilliant pink light burst forth around her body. She forcibly tore open the space beside her, and her figure flashed, submerging into the spatial rift as she rushed toward Huo Yuhao's location.
"Hoo... ha... that mad rabbit, she finally left..."
Cú Chulainn could no longer hold on. The cursed spear, Gáe Bolg, in his hand clattered to the ground.
He staggered backward, heavily dropping to one knee. The blue, tight-fitting battle armor he wore was badly damaged and covered in tragic marks. Crimson blood seeped from countless wounds, staining the ground beneath him.
He was panting heavily, each breath aggravating the sharp pain in his lungs, indicating that his internal organs were clearly severely injured.
Yet, there was no sign of dejection on his wild and untamed face. Instead, he forced a painful but still manic smile and looked up at Artoria not far away.
"Hey, King of Knights... that was really... intense, wasn't it? That rabbit almost kicked me back to the Throne of Heroes, haha... cough!"
The laughter pulled at his injuries, causing him to cough uncontrollably, the spittle flecked with blood.
Artoria was in a slightly better state, but her consumption was equally massive.
She dispelled the manifestation of her silver-white armor, revealing the blue battle dress underneath, and the Excalibur in her hand dissolved into specks of golden light.
Her golden hair was a little messy, beads of sweat dotted her smooth forehead, and though her emerald-green eyes showed fatigue, they still maintained the King's composure and majesty.
She walked up to Cú Chulainn, looking at the Son of Light from Celtic mythology, famous for his wildness and bravery, who now looked battered but still held his head high. A flicker of respect and... sigh flashed in her eyes.
"Lancer."
Her voice was still clear and serious, but it lacked some of the battlefield's sharpness.
"Your valor is astonishing. Had you not tied up part of her energy, I doubt I could have held out until now."
"Heh... that kind of formal talk doesn't sound like you, Saber."
Cú Chulainn grinned, showing his pointed canines. He tried to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, only making the mess worse.
"It was just a good, satisfying fight. The opponent was strong, and the fight was exhilarating—that's enough. As for you, your style isn't usually a head-on clash, yet you went crazy with me this time."
Artoria shook her head slightly, her expression serious. "As a knight, fighting alongside a comrade naturally demands my full effort."
She paused, looking at Cú Chulainn's body, which was gradually becoming translucent and starting to emit black particles. Her tone lowered slightly.
"It seems... your time has come."
Cú Chulainn looked down at his rapidly dissipating hand. Far from being afraid, he laughed with even more abandon.
"Ah... looks like it. This body reached its limit long ago. Making it this far is already a bonus. Tsk, seriously, I haven't had enough of this world's wine yet..."
He struggled to stand up but was powerless.
Artoria reached out her hand, not to help him stand, but in the equal stance of a warrior to a warrior, allowing him to steady himself by leaning on her.
"Lancer, your spear mastery and courage have my, Artoria Pendragon's, acknowledgment." Artoria looked at him and said solemnly.
"Ha, getting the King of Knights' acknowledgment makes this trip worthwhile." Cú Chulainn laughed heartily. Even though his body was dissipating faster, his eyes became sharper and brighter.
"Well then, I'll leave the rest to you, Saber. Don't lose easily after I'm gone, or I'll laugh at you."
"I swear by the honor of the King of Knights that I will fight until the very end." Artoria responded firmly.
"Good... haha... this Holy Grail War really has been interesting..."
Cú Chulainn's voice became increasingly faint. Most of his body had turned into black light particles, yet his bright eyes still burned with indomitable fighting spirit. He took one last look at the battlefield and the King of Knights before him.
"Next time we get a chance, let's have another satisfying fight... Farewell, King Arthur!"
As the words fell, his last silhouette completely dissolved into countless dazzling light particles, scattering upwards like fireflies, finally vanishing into the air.
Only the traces left by the cursed spear remained on the field, proving that the Son of Light had fought fiercely there.
Artoria stood quietly in place, gazing at the spot where Cú Chulainn had disappeared. A complex emotion flickered in her emerald eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a resolute will.
At the other end of the battlefield, far from the main clash's clamor, another duel was also nearing its conclusion.
The atmosphere here was completely different from the wild intensity of Cú Chulainn's fight—it was more solidified and deadly. The air seemed saturated with invisible sword intent, each breath carrying an icy sharpness.
Skirk remained upright and steady like a pine tree, standing still.
The longsword in her hand pointed diagonally at the ground. The blade was dull, yet it seemed to absorb all the surrounding light and sound, emanating a heart-stopping aura.
Her expression was still cold, her eyes as calm as an unchanging, ancient cold pool, without a hint of ripple.
Her opponent, her disciple, 'Childe' Tartaglia, looked exceptionally battered.
Deep purple, extremely unstable lightning and water vapor steamed around him, a sign of the Evil Eye being overdrawn and on the verge of backlash.
His usual Hydro twin blades had long since shattered and dissipated. What barely supported him now was a constantly flickering lightning spear, condensed from his final reserves of power.
His magnificent Foul Legacy Transformation was severely damaged. His body was covered in fine, deep sword wounds, blood soaking his clothes, and blood foam constantly spilled from the corner of his mouth.
But in his blue eyes, a nearly insane, burning battle intent was alight, along with a hint of... exhilaration?
"Heh... hehe..."
Tartaglia gasped, his laughter hoarse but filled with satisfaction.
"As expected of... Master... you truly are... still unattainable..."
Skirk watched him silently, her voice cold and flat, showing no joy of victory or sadness over her disciple's near-death state.
"Your Foul Legacy Transformation is handled more skillfully than last time, but you are still dominated by the rampant power, not driving it. There are too many flaws."
"Haha... cough, cough..."
Tartaglia coughed up another mouthful of blood, yet the maniacal smile on his face became even more pronounced.
"Because... fighting this way... is more satisfying. In the limit... surpassing the limit... that is what... I pursue."
His gaze swept past Skirk, toward the battles between Jingliu and Tang San, and Shrek versus the Holy Spirit Cult. He sighed, "It's a shame I couldn't fight more powerful opponents. A little regretful."
To the side, Bai Xiuxiu, who had been watching the entire duel with bated breath, was slightly pale, her small hands unconsciously clenched tightly to her chest.
As the Princess of the Demon Soul Great White Shark, she was not unfamiliar with life-and-death combat, but the master-disciple duel before her—its sharpness, its resolve, and the will it contained—had profoundly shaken her.
She witnessed her Senior Brother Tartaglia's near-suicidal fighting style, and her Master Skirk's sword technique, which was precise to the extreme, without any excess, each strike aimed directly at a flaw.
It was an utterly predictable sparring match, and also a battle that... caused a spiritual transformation within her.
Skirk seemed to let out a faint sigh, so subtle that it felt like a trick of the wind.
"The journey ends here, Ajax."
She finally moved.
Her figure flashed like a phantom, not an advancement, but as if she had merged into the seam of space, appearing before Tartaglia in the next instant.
The frigid longsword in her hand was silently thrust out at a speed that surpassed visual detection.
There were no magnificent light effects, no furious energy bursts.
Only ultimate restraint and ultimate sharpness.
Tartaglia did not try to parry, nor did he have the strength to.
The final light in his eyes was one of relief, of satisfaction at having fought his respected teacher with all his might, and perhaps a trace of regret for not being able to clash with other foreign powerhouses.
The longsword pierced his heart with precision. The extreme coldness instantly froze his vitality.
"Master, farewell!"
He used his last strength to squeeze out a few almost inaudible words. The manic smile on his face slowly solidified and then faded.
Skirk withdrew her longsword. Tartaglia's body swayed, then pitched forward.
She did not catch him, only watched silently as her battle-crazed, fervent disciple, who ultimately died for the sake of battle, collapsed onto the cold ruins.
Black light particles scattered on the wind. Childe, Tartaglia, retired.
Skirk's expression was cool and collected. If this were their original world, and Childe were his actual body, she would have held back, just as she had before, only using one hand to deal with Tartaglia, afraid of being too heavy-handed and accidentally killing him.
But here, this was only a memory fragment of Childe; he was a summoned Servant. In that case, there was no need to hold back.
The surroundings fell silent.
Bai Xiuxiu instinctively covered her mouth, her eyes full of shock.
She had personally witnessed her Master ending her Senior Brother's life—so calmly, so... matter-of-factly.
Is this the world of the strong?
Skirk turned around, her gaze falling on her new disciple, Bai Xiuxiu. Her look was still calm, but it seemed to hold a hint of an inexpressible emotion.
"Did you see clearly, Xiuxiu?"
Her voice remained cool.
"The essence of power is not the frenzied venting of energy. Uncontrolled power will eventually backlash, whether it's his Evil Eye or the wild nature of the soul beast within you."
She paused, looking toward the direction where Tartaglia had dissipated.
"As for your Senior Brother, he was a qualified warrior, and I merely sent him off in the manner of a warrior."
Bai Xiuxiu took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil within her.
She looked at her Master, then back at the direction where her Senior Brother had vanished. She seemed to understand something, yet also felt more confused.
But she knew that her Master was giving her a crucial lesson in the most direct and cruel way possible.
Skirk's eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned the core battlefield in the distance, which was constantly erupting with terrifying energy fluctuations, like the end of the world.
The confrontation between Sea God Tang San and Jingliu, the fierce battle between the Lord of Destruction and the Xianzhou General high in the sky, and the auras erupting everywhere that even she found daunting... The energy level there had soared to an unimaginable degree.
She harbored no further hesitation.
At least, until Bai Xiuxiu was safe, she would never rashly join those battles.
During her exchange with Tartaglia just now, both parties had deliberately contained most of the aftermath, controlling the fight to an extremely small area, which allowed Bai Xiuxiu, the observer, to remain unharmed.
But the ensuing melee would have no such unspoken agreement.
The beings clashing there were all monsters capable of easily conjuring celestial phenomena and tearing space, and the residual energy from their battles was enough to crush a Titled Douluo.
With Bai Xiuxiu's current strength, even a brush from a single stray energy ripple would be a death sentence.
Even Skirk herself couldn't confidently claim she could emerge unscathed from the center of that chaotic battlefield.
The immediate priority was to take Xiuxiu and temporarily retreat, far away from this dangerous place.
Her power had not yet returned to its peak. With her super adaptability and growth potential, she only needed time to become even stronger than she was now.
"Let's go, Xiuxiu."
Skirk's voice was cool. She no longer looked in the direction where her disciple had fallen, turning instead and walking in the opposite direction from the core battlefield.
"The storm here is not one we should be caught in right now."
Bai Xiuxiu looked at her Master's back, then glanced back at the terrifying sight of the changing heavens and earth in the distance. She instinctively shivered, quickly stepping up to follow.
She understood that her Master's decision was correct.
At the same time, Lu Jingming, who was rapidly recovering with the aid of the Abyss Flower and the power of the Great Tree King, suddenly paused.
He clearly sensed that the Holy Grail, the core of the Holy Grail War, had suddenly accumulated a massive, dark surge of energy.
"Two more Servants have retired, then..."
He muttered to himself. Far from feeling regret, a look of expectation flashed in his eyes.