The Divine Cloud Demon Dogs leapt forward.
One clamped onto Sheng Hong's arm, fangs sinking deep.
Another seized his opposite leg.
The last two tore at his remaining limbs, anchoring him in midair.
"Now," Fu said calmly, fingers gliding across the guzheng strings,
"All that remains… is to seal you."
The winds blew violently.
"Four-Path Seal — Rashōmon."
With a thunderous hum, the Divine Cloud Beasts dissolved into light, reshaping themselves into four colossal golden doors. Ancient runes flared across their surfaces as beams of radiant law shot outward, forming a square prison around Sheng Hong.
The doors began to close.
Slowly.
"This should hold y—"
A wet sound interrupted him.
From beneath Sheng Hong's feet, a puddle of blood stirred.
It writhed and slipped through the threads of light, sealing the doors.
SSSSSSHHHH—
The radiant strings sizzled violently, their golden glow blackening, then turning a deep, corrupted crimson. The blood surged upward, splashing against the doors themselves.
The gold burned.
"What—?" Fu's eyes narrowed. "This corruption…"
He steadied himself and struck the guzheng sharply.
BOOM!
A sonic shockwave detonated point-blank.
Sheng Hong's body convulsed blood streamed from his ears, but he laughed through it.
"Master Fu," Sheng said hoarsely, spinning his halberd in a wide arc, blood mist spiralling around him.
"Do you still remember this one?"
He hurled the Qiang skyward.
It pierced the clouds.
Sheng's hands snapped together, forming a vast triangular seal.
"Grow— Bloodbane."
The heavens darkened instantly.
The spear shuddered—then expanded, its shaft stretching, its blade widening until it blotted out the sky, growing to the size of Yùzhàn.
"Let's see you protect them, Great Protector," Sheng roared, madness bleeding into his voice.
"I'll show you the truth, that in the face of death, all beings are nothing."
"That," Sheng spoke, blood Qi erupting around him,
"is why we must chase immortality."
Sheng slammed his palms together.
Around the titanic spear, black flames erupted hot and shaped like the sun devouring all nearby clouds and light.
Fu's expression hardened.
"Tch… the Underworld Fire."
His fingers tightened on the guzheng.
"So, he truly did it," Fu said quietly.
"He learned the Law of Chaos."
Fu watched as the spear descended, its vast shadow swallowing the heavens.
The Underworld flames coiled around it, turning into serpents, incinerating every trace of moisture in the vicinity. The air screamed compressed, twisted space trembling under the weight of the descending calamity.
"The air is shaking violently…" Fu muttered, his fingers tightening on the guzheng.
"It's disrupting the medium. Controlling sound waves like this is becoming nearly impossible."
From the centre of his brow, a blue flame ignited—small at first, then steady, burning with quiet intensity.
"Tch… I really have grown old."
His hands separated, palms opening as he formed a seal on either side of the guzheng.
"Even for cultivators," Fu thought, a faint bitterness touching his calm,
"Time still ticks."
His gaze dropped.
To Lian.
Bang!
Shing!
Attack after attack crashed down on Lian.
His robes were torn to shreds, strips of fabric fluttering uselessly in the scorching wind. The armour he wore was dented, cracked, warped beyond recognition—barely worthy of being called armour anymore.
"Shit—!"
"Ghh—!"
Lian coughed violently, blood spraying from his lips as he barely twisted aside, Wu Hei's blade grazing past his ribs instead of cleaving through them.
"Too close."
Wu's movements were erratic—unnatural. One moment he was there, the next he wasn't. Shadows bent around him, swallowing distance, distorting direction.
"I can't track him anymore," Lian thought grimly.
"Before, his attacks had rhythm… now they're everywhere."
He extended his Martial Will instinctively—and it vanished.
Swallowed once more.
"Damn it… Every time I release my Will, his Domain devours it instantly."
Lian staggered back, breath ragged.
"Huff… huff…"
His vision blurred at the edges, the poison still gnawing at his senses, Wu Hei's killing intent pressing down like a thousand blades.
"I'm running out of options," Lian thought coldly.
"If this keeps up…"
His fingers twitched, tightening around nothing.
"…I won't last another exchange."
"You have power," Fu's voice echoed in Lian's mind through the frequency whisper,
"But your foundation is a mess. The way you're flaring about tells me everything."
"….."
"That much was inevitable. Your master disliked fighting since he is the divine doctor; he must have been reluctant to truly teach you martial arts."
"Again… this master."
"I don't even know him. If I had a master's, would I be in this situation right now…? I have never had anyone to teach me. I just did anything to make me stronger, I guess I'm paying the price now for taking shortcuts," Lian cursed inwardly.
"Tch— but… is my foundation really that bad?"
The thought struck deeper than Wu Hei's blades.
"…It's true," Lian realised bitterly.
"Up until now, I've been relying on pills. Borrowed strength. The Heavenly Lotus did all the heavy lifting for me."
Images flashed through his mind—
the lotus refining essence for him,
the mindscape where he practised only techniques,
never tempering flesh, breath, or even his will.
"My body never caught up. My mind never stabilised. I built a tower on sand."
"Shit… shit… shit."
Lian exhaled slowly.
Then he looked up.
The fear didn't vanish—but something else took its place.
Resolve.
"Well… if that's the case," he thought, eyes sharpening,
"Then there's no better time than now."
Wu Hei's killing intent pressed closer. The poison still crawled through his veins. The sky itself felt like it was collapsing.
"If I can't adapt—"
Lian spread his feet.
Lowered his centre.
Took the horse stance.
"—then I die."
High above—
"Forbidden Melody—Open:" Fu's voice thundered across the heavens.
"Song of Xuanwu!"
He plucked a thousand strings in succession within a heartbeat.
A deep, ancient hum vibrated through the air as golden light flooded the sky, pouring down behind the descending spear. Space warped, rippling like water struck by a colossal drum.
From the radiance, massive hands of light emerged—slow, heavy, and inexorable—each movement carrying the weight of mountains.
The hands reached forward, palms opening.
Even Sheng Hong's laughter faltered—for just a moment.