Longyun was an innate-level powerhouse; his very presence crushed lesser beings. Fear? He had long grown beyond it.
But now…
He was afraid.
No, worse than being afraid.
Something vile twisted inside him: a crawling, suffocating feeling tangled with a deep, irrational hatred, as if his very soul rejected what stood behind him. He didn't understand it. The feeling was raw and ancient, like his body remembered something his mind could not.
His heartbeat slowed into silence, blood pounding like war drums in his ears.
He turned slowly and Dreadfully.
And there it was.
It was a creature, or something that had once tried to be one.
Bird-like only in silhouette, like a rotting parody of flight.
Nearly thirty meters long, its wings were torn membranes stitched with bone and sinew. Its translucent skin clung to twitching veins that pulsed with thick, black blood. Every breath it took felt wrong—like the world itself rejected its existence.
Its face was the worst:
A jagged mockery of a beak fused with a human jaw, lined with needle-like teeth slick with mucus.
Its milky eyes twitched, bulging from deep sockets, searching for something to hate.
Longyun froze. Its gaze felt greasy, invasive, crawling under his skin.
Then it opened its mouth, slowly and horribly.
The jaw cracked wide, revealing not a tongue but a nest of slick, barbed tendrils, twitching hungrily, scraping wetly.
Though underwater, the stench hit him—a wave of decay and rot so foul he nearly gagged. His qi stirred—not to attack, but to protect him from the corruption radiating off this thing.
It tilted its head, not like a predator.
But something curious… about what screaming felt like.
Everything went still.
The water around them shimmered with eerie calm, too calm. Time seemed to freeze.
Then—
It roared.
The sound shattered the silence like a tidal wave of hate. It wasn't just noise—it was pressure, a thunderous blast that sent ripples through the water and pain through Longyun's bones.
Longyun's heart pounded. He didn't need to scan its qi to know—this thing was stronger. Far stronger. At least the late stage of Innate Realm, perhaps beyond. Far beyond his current strength.
But strength wasn't everything.
He clenched his fists. Its movements… sluggish. Its eyes… unfocused. Could it be lacking intelligence? Instinct-driven?
That was his only chance.
Then it lunged.
A blur of motion—Longyun barely evaded, spinning through the water, the beast's grotesque appendage slicing through where he stood just moments before.
His hand flashed. A gleam of steel. The sword light flashed.
It is not just any blade; it is an innate-grade weapon, humming with energy, qi coiling around it like a living flame.
He struck mid-motion, his body twisting, sword swinging in a precise arc.
A crescent-shaped beam of cutting light shot forth, slicing toward the creature's side.
Another beam flashed in from the opposite angle, his subordinate, Code B.
A perfectly timed dual assault, from both flanks.
The beams struck.
The water exploded in light and vapor—a blinding detonation of energy.
When the underwater mist cleared...
Nothing.
The creature had barely flinched. Its skin writhed and healed around scorched tissue, its blood was dark and thick, but the damage was superficial.
Now, it hovered between them.
Longyun on one side, Code B on the other, they flank it like wolves circling a titan.
Without a word, they moved, running circular paths, weaving through the water in synchronized arcs, building momentum. The speed and pattern generated a swirling current, forming a vacuum-like pull meant to distort its balance.
With each rotation, they struck again—blades flashing, beams crisscrossing—seeking weak spots, probing for reaction.
But Longyun felt the trap they were in. The moment it roared, he sensed it—this place wasn't natural. A field—an underwater array—was trapping them.
No reinforcements.
No escape.
The only way out: kill the monster.
Suddenly, the beast froze. Its wings quivered. Limbs twitching. It looked disoriented. Immobile.
But Longyun didn't relax.
He felt it—something was wrong.
Then it moved.
Not toward him but toward Code B.
With terrifying speed, it snapped its massive wing-limb, the motion slicing through the water like a whip of raw flesh and bone.
Code B reacted fast—his sword raised, handguard flaring with defensive light.
Two barriers ignited, spiritual force crackling.
It was too slow and too weak.
The wing struck.
There was a crunch—a terrible, wet noise—and Code B's body was hurled sideways like a broken doll.
His leg—gone, shredded below the thigh.
Longyun had a super-powerful divine sense due to his innate level cultivation, so seeing through air or water, it is the same for him. But code B is different. His divine sense is a lot weaker than his, so he was a little slow.
Blood exploded outward, a red cloud spreading violently in the water.
A Huajin cultivator's body could circulate vast amounts of qi and blood, so now it is fueling the ocean with crimson trails.
The beast twitched in delight.
It breathed it in. Excited.
Its grotesque jaw creaked open, revealing the tendril-lined throat. It was preparing for the kill with its mouth.
Longyun didn't hesitate.
He flashed forward, blade trailing arcs of qi behind him.
Before the jaws could close, he struck, aiming for the neck.
The creature dodged with unexpected speed, but that was enough.
Longyun was beside Code B in a flash, grabbing his wounded ally by the shoulder.
Then—
Another attack.
It came fast.
Longyun turned, blade raised in reflex.
At the same time, Code B struck too, unleashing his strength in a burst of raw spiritual energy.
Two strikes. One moment.
They hit together, forcing the beast back, its bloated body rippling under the impact.
It shrieked, retreating Several meters, rage boiling in its corrupted veins.
But Longyun wasn't celebrating.
They were still outmatched.
Longyun could still feel it, the residue of fear clinging to his limbs, making his movements just a fraction too slow, a fraction too hesitant.
It infuriated him.
Fear.
A humiliating emotion. An insult to his pride.
Even in the face of death, he had no right to feel fear.
He was an elder of the Gu Empire. A cultivator of innate strength. Why should he fear anything?
Suddenly, he felt something. He closed his eyes.
Darkness.
Silence.
He stood in that place for a few still seconds.
Then, he opened his eyes.
The fear was gone.
In its place bloomed something sharper—cold arrogance, piercing clarity. And beneath it all, a chilling indifference.
Longyun felt a new sensation stir within him, one that left him slightly stunned. If the earlier emotion had been fear, this was its mirror image: a surge of innate pride, a defiant arrogance awakening from deep inside, pushing back against the pressure of the beast's presence.
He instinctively knew—this wasn't normal. Neither emotion was. They were too primal, too precise. They weren't entirely his.
Were they coming from his brain? His heart? His instincts? Or were they buried deeper—etched into his blood, his soul, his DNA?
Longyun slowly raised his gaze and locked eyes with the creature for the first time.
No more evasion. No more hesitation.
And the beast… stared back.
Its sluggishness ebbed away. Muscles twitched beneath its grotesque hide as awareness sharpened in its gaze.
It was waking up. And soon, it would begin to wield the full force of its innate level power.
This battle would be dangerous.
But now, so was he.