Miss Su's body hung limply between two cultivators who were struggling to carry her through the shattered battlefield.
Blood stained her white robes crimson,
and thick streams of it poured from the corners of her mouth.
Her delicate fingers, once so graceful, now twitched weakly —
each movement stained by agony.
Every breath she took sounded like broken glass inside her chest.
The entire left side of her body was scorched and bleeding,
flesh torn and bones cracked from Zun's ruthless attack.
But even in this miserable, broken state —
her pride burned hotter than ever.
She spat blood onto the ground violently,
a trail of red droplets marking their path.
Her face twisted into a look of savage hatred.
Through the pain, through the blurred vision,
her voice rose — shaking but filled with venom:
> "Brother…"
"This man must not survive today."
"I want to see his corpse rotting in the mud. Tear his heart out if you have to!"
The cultivators around her felt a chill run down their spines.
Miss Su, who was known for her elegance and calmness,
was now spitting curses like a wounded beast.
Her brother Su Chen, walking ahead like a walking storm,
did not turn back —
but the aura around him grew even heavier and colder.
It was as if the very heavens
had heard Miss Su's desperate cry for vengeance.
Every tree, every stone, every drop of rain around them seemed to tremble.
The sky darkened further.
Black clouds churned overhead.
Lightning flickered blood-red again and again, as if preparing to witness a slaughter.
Miss Su's body shivered with pain,
but her spirit remained unbroken.
Her hatred was alive,
burning inside her,
louder than the pain,
louder than the fear of death.
In her mind, one thing was clear —
even if she lost everything —
Zun must die today.
She clutched the shredded cloth of her robe with trembling fingers,
smearing more blood across her own chest —
swearing a silent oath to herself.
> "Even if it costs my soul...
Even if it costs everything the Su family has...
You will die."
---
The battlefield was no longer just a battleground.
It had become a stage —
for vengeance, hatred, and the clash of monsters.
The real storm was yet to come.
The sky was heavy with the roar of thunder.
The earth itself seemed to be holding its breath.
Su Chen's eyes gleamed with murderous light as he moved his hands swiftly through a series of complex hand seals.
Each movement cracked the air around him, pulling dense spiritual energy from the ground and sky into his body.
His voice, like an ancient war drum, echoed across the battlefield:
> "Earth-Sacking Punch!"
A terrifying aura burst from his body.
The very ground under his feet cracked and shattered, forming spiderweb-like fissures.
The spiritual energy gathered around his right hand grew so thick, it warped the air,
turning it into a violent vortex of dust, energy, and debris.
At the same time, Zun's savage laugh pierced through the storm.
> "Buddha Lotus Punch!"
A golden lotus bloomed behind him, shimmering with dark spiritual fire.
He clenched his fist, and the lotus seemed to melt into his skin —
infusing his punch with a god-like fury.
Both warriors launched forward.
The two punches collided with an impact that shook heaven and earth.
BOOM!!!
The explosion was so massive that a huge crater formed where they clashed,
flattening trees, tearing the earth open,
sending gigantic boulders flying into the air like paper.
The shockwave blew apart hundreds of weaker cultivators caught nearby —
some were hurled into the air,
others disintegrated instantly into a mist of blood and bones.
Dust and smoke covered the sky,
turning day into night.
Su Chen and Zun were both hurled hundreds of meters away,
their bodies carving bloody trails into the broken earth.
From a distance, Miss Su, lying on a stretcher of makeshift cloth, watched the scene with blurred eyes.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
She thought bitterly:
> "My brother..."
"And that monster..."
"Both are Sixth Stage Peace cultivators..."
"Both born with monstrous talent, both walking paths stained with blood..."
Through the pain and haze, she realized a brutal truth:
In this world of demons and swords,
no matter how talented or righteous you were,
only blood, will, and brutality decided survival.
Miss Su's fingers clutched the fabric of her ruined dress tighter.
Despite her injuries, despite the fear gnawing at her soul,
she could not look away from the battlefield.
Because she knew —
what was happening before her eyes
was not just a battle.
It was the collision of two unstoppable storms.
And one of them...
would not survive the night.
The battlefield was already soaked with blood.
The scent of burning flesh and crushed stone filled the suffocating air.
Su Chen, covered in deep gashes and burns, staggered forward like a beast that refused to fall.
Across from him stood Zun, half of his face drenched in blood, his robes shredded into nothing but strips of cloth fluttering in the wind.
Both of them had long crossed the line between men and monsters.
This was no longer a duel.
It was a war of pure hate.
Su Chen roared and charged once again, his fists wrapped in a whirlwind of spiritual energy.
Each punch he threw shattered the ground beneath their feet.
Each step he took left bloody footprints behind.
He launched a brutal barrage of attacks —
but Zun, grinning like a mad devil, suddenly slapped a blood-soaked talisman onto Su Chen's chest.
The talisman hissed, melted into Su Chen's flesh, and instantly locked onto his spirit.
Zun whispered hoarsely,
his voice like the scratching of death itself:
> "Soul-Binding Curse... Now, brother..."
"Whatever you do to me... you will suffer too."
Su Chen froze — a ripple of horror passing through his battered body.
Before he could react, Zun slashed his own chest open with his sword.
A sickening tearing sound echoed.
Su Chen screamed — the exact same wound ripped open across his own chest, spraying blood everywhere.
The cultivators nearby who still had breath in their bodies backed away in horror.
This was no longer a normal battle.
This was dark magic — a battlefield of mutual destruction.
Still grinning through cracked, bloodied lips, Zun staggered forward, dripping blood at every step.
Su Chen clenched his teeth so hard they almost shattered.
He roared and punched Zun's face with all his might —
but at the exact same moment, his own jaw cracked, and blood filled his mouth.
Both men collapsed onto their knees, panting like dying beasts, glaring into each other's half-mad eyes.
Their faces were so swollen, battered, and blood-soaked that even their own mothers would not recognize them.
Their bones cracked with every slight movement.
The ground around them was no longer soil — it was a swamp of blood, broken weapons, and crushed bones.
Zun, barely holding himself upright by his sword, let out a ragged, broken laugh.
In a voice so tired, so deep, it sounded like a whisper from hell, he said:
> "Tell me, Su Chen..."
"Do you still think... you can kill me...?"
His smile was not human.
It was the smile of something that had died a long time ago but refused to fall.
Su Chen wanted to answer — wanted to scream — but only a mouthful of blood came out.
Both of them, still glaring at each other, slowly rose again on trembling legs,
because in this broken world, in this savage game,
there was no room for surrender.
Only death.
A cold, chilling laugh echoed across the battlefield —
it was not human.
It was the sound of a predator who had cornered his prey after a long, patient hunt.
All the cultivators fighting paused for a second, their blood turning cold.
Behind the battered, half-dead Su Chen, a dark figure emerged —
Li Wei, stepping forward with the slow, deliberate grace of a reaper.
His black cloak fluttered in the blood-soaked wind, and in his hand, his spear shimmered with a demonic black aura.
Li Wei's voice was soft — almost gentle —
but every word carried the weight of death:
> "But... I can kill you."
Su Chen's body froze.
His instincts screamed — but it was too late.
He turned, only to meet Li Wei's emotionless, ice-cold gaze.
Miss Su, who was being carried away in a bloodied stretcher nearby, gasped in horror.
> "You old fox..."
"You were waiting all along!"
She clenched her broken fist tightly.
Li Wei had been hiding like a phantom, letting them burn themselves out, letting zun fall into su-chen cursed trap.
If Li Wei had appeared earlier, zun would have crushed him easily.
But now, battered, cursed, poisoned by pain, zun was no longer a warrior —
he was a broken body waiting to be claimed.
A demonic, almost mocking smile stretched across Li Wei's face.
He knew zun was still hiding a trump card.
He could see it in zun trembling hands.
But Li Wei also knew — if he let him live, he would become a monster of revenge.
He had to be erased.
A deadly silence swallowed the battlefield.
Then suddenly — without any warning —
Li Wei's spear moved faster than the eye could follow.
A flash of black light —
a bone-shattering crack —
and a scream that tore through the sky.
Su Chen's chest exploded open.
Blood sprayed out like a fountain, soaking the ground and nearby cultivators.
Some of them dropped their weapons, too stunned to even react.
Su Chen staggered backward, a hole gaping in his chest where his heart had once been.
His eyes — once proud, once fierce —
were now wide with horror, confusion, and rage.
He looked at Li Wei...
then at the sky...
and finally collapsed, his face hitting the blood-drenched ground.
Dead.
The battlefield turned silent.
Even the howling demon beasts paused, as if death itself had descended.
Li Wei stood there, surrounded by the corpses of men and monsters alike,
holding his dripping spear,
his cold gaze sweeping across the survivors like a god of death.
No one dared move.
No one dared breathe.
At that moment,
Li Wei was not human anymore.
He was the embodiment of ruthless inevitability
an unstoppable force that had come to claim everything.
Zun's body was crumbling —
his muscles torn, his bones shattered.
Blood oozed from deep cracks all over his flesh like broken riverbeds.
He gasped for breath,
each inhale sounding like a dying beast's rattle.
Yet — in that dying moment —
he refused to fall.
In a surge of pure madness,
he pressed his bleeding hand onto the earth and started chanting words forbidden even among demons.
Dark crimson energy, thick and wild like a living beast, swirled around him,
tearing open the ground,
shattering rocks into dust.
A forbidden art —
one that demanded life itself as the price.
Zun's remaining strength — and the last shreds of his soul — condensed into his right arm.
It grew grotesquely swollen, black veins pulsing, crackling with unstable energy.
His eyes burned red like a cornered, dying wolf.
He raised his deformed hand toward Li Wei, roaring in hatred so deep that it shook the very sky:
> "DIE WITH ME!!"
The next moment —
an explosion erupted.
It was not fire, nor wind, nor lightning —
it was pure chaos.
The ground ripped apart like paper.
A wave of death engulfed everything in front of Zun.
Li Wei, ever calm, sidestepped — but even he felt the shockwave bite into his skin like a thousand knives.
Zun himself was hurled backward by the recoil —
and that's when it happened.
With a sickening, fleshy rip —
his right arm tore itself apart.
A fountain of blood shot into the sky, raining down like a storm of gore.
Zun collapsed onto his knees.
His body was trembling violently, his vision blurring into red and black.
Where once a proud arm had been, now there was only a mangled, bleeding stump,
the bones shattered like glass, tendons hanging like torn ropes.
He tried to stand — but his strength was abandoning him.
Every breath was pure agony.
His body was nothing but broken meat now, barely clinging to life.
Still... he laughed.
A broken, bloody laugh that made the surviving cultivators shudder.
Even now, facing death,
Zun was still a demon.
But the final cruelty was yet to come.
Suddenly —
from high above —
a demonic spear, forged from Li Wei's spiritual energy, came screaming down from the heavens like a judgment.
Zun raised his broken body one last time...
tried to dodge...
Too slow.
The spear pierced through his stomach with a brutal CRACK,
pinning him like an insect to the torn earth.
He coughed out blood,
his mouth twitching in disbelief,
his vision darkening.
> "I... I won't... die... like... this..."
he whispered.
But no one answered.
No gods.
No demons.
Only the cold wind,
and Li Wei's emotionless stare.
Zun's body twitched once —
twice —
and then went still.
Pinned like a trophy for all to see,
a warning that no matter how fierce you were —
death would come for you, cruel and merciless.
The battlefield was now soaked in blood,
and only the strongest devil remained standing.
Li Wei stood silently above Ne-Zun's mutilated corpse, the bloodied spear still quivering from where it had impaled the demon.
A faint, mocking smile tugged at his lips as he spoke in a cold, lifeless voice:
> "I told you... only I would savor this battlefield's final breath."
His words carried no emotion, no hatred, no pride —
only an icy certainty,
as if death itself had whispered them through his mouth.
The battlefield, once roaring with battle cries and screams, had fallen into a suffocating silence.
Only the wet drip... drip... drip... of blood splattering onto broken stone could be heard.
Then —
Li Wei slowly raised his hands, fingers curling into twisted symbols,
and began chanting in a tongue so ancient and evil that even the dead seemed to shudder.
The very air grew heavy.
The clouds blackened overhead.
The earth trembled underfoot.
A terrible red mist started rising from the corpses scattered across the land —
both human and demonic beast alike.
Dead warriors, shattered monsters, broken cultivators —
their blood boiled inside their veins, forced out by an invisible will.
Blood...
dark and steaming...
poured from mouths, eyes, wounds, and snapped bones.
It slithered across the ground like serpents, pooling together, swirling into a massive, grotesque blood vortex above Li Wei's head.
The sight was unspeakable.
Corpses convulsed, twitching even after death,
their flesh shriveling as every last drop was stolen from them.
Some of the half-dead, wounded cultivators gasped awake in terror,
realizing too late that their blood was being torn from their living bodies.
They screamed,
begged,
crawled,
but the blood showed no mercy.
It ripped free of their veins in cruel, explosive bursts,
leaving them as dry, hollow husks.
Li Wei's eyes glowed a deep, demonic crimson as he chanted louder,
his body greedily absorbing the torrent of life essence.
> "Blood Nourishing Refined Technique — Complete Extraction Phase!"
he declared.
The swirling blood condensed into a gigantic, pulsing sphere above him,
beating like a monstrous heart.
He opened his arms wide —
and the sphere collapsed into him.
In one horrifying instant —
Li Wei's body drank the battlefield dry.
A shockwave of raw, terrifying energy erupted from him,
blasting away the fog and dust,
exposing a nightmarish landscape:
Piles of dry, brittle skeletons scattered like garbage.
Rotting chunks of flesh smoking under the dark sky.
An overpowering stench of iron, death, and despair.
Li Wei's body gleamed strangely,
his muscles pulsing with unnatural vitality,
his aura rising to terrifying new heights.
The few surviving cultivators — hiding, crawling, sobbing —
watched in paralyzed horror.
To them, Li Wei was no longer human.
He was a blood demon —
a walking nightmare born from the death of thousands.
The worst part?
The cold smile still played on his lips.
Not hatred.
Not anger.
Amusement.
As if this entire massacre was nothing more than a game he was enjoying.
Under the blackened heavens, Li Wei stood alone —
the sole sovereign of a graveyard soaked in horror, cruelty, and blood.