Li Zhexian's Spirit Power surged violently.
His blood-stained white robe was shaken by the force, releasing a mist of crimson vapor.
"My friends!" His voice cut through the chaos of the battlefield.
"Today, because of me, you are all trapped in this desperate deadlock. There are countless words in my heart, yet they choke in my throat."
"With this wine from my gourd, let me at least convey one ten-thousandth of my gratitude."
"I, Li Zhexian, here and now, thank you all for risking your lives to fight for me."
Spirit Power poured into the wine gourd.
From its mouth sprayed torrents of wondrous wine.
The liquid shimmered in multicolored hues, with a fragrance that no mortal brew could possess.
And stranger still—
It seemed alive.
Once freed from the gourd, it rode the wind, drifting toward the lips of every friend fighting a bloody battle.
"Brother Zhexian, I've been craving the wine in that gourd of yours for far too long!"
Feng Xiaotian wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, opened wide, and swallowed the luminous stream before him.
In an instant—
His face flushed red.
He exhaled a breath steeped in surging energy.
Wounds knit rapidly, his drained Spirit Power gushed back like a spring, arcs of lightning and twin glows of fire and ice shimmered faintly, and beneath his feet a light, agile wind arose!
"Hahaha! Brother Zhexian, you've been drinking far too well!"
With Spirit Power restored, Feng Xiaotian unleashed his Thirty-Six Consecutive Wind Slashes, cutting down several Spirit Masters of Spirit Hall in one strike.
Seeing his might, the others too drank deeply of the divine wine.
Boom—!
Their fading auras soared back to life, Sprit Power replenished, pain and exhaustion driven away to varying degrees.
The formation, which moments ago had been on the brink of collapse under Spirit Hall's locust-like siege, suddenly erupted with the ferocity of tigers and wolves once more.
The teams began pushing inch by inch toward the mountain pass.
At the same time—
Voices laced with teasing rang out:
"Li Zhexian, why so sentimental all of a sudden?"
"Save your words. When we break through, you're treating us at the Fragrant Pavilion for ten whole days!"
"Ten days? Not nearly enough! At least half a month!"
Seeing his friends' strength restored, their line temporarily stabilized,
A faint, relieved smile touched Li Zhexian's pale face.
"Li Zhexian… you…"
Beside him, Qian Renxue caught his trembling arm in alarm.
"Your Spirit Power is nearly exhausted, isn't it?!"
Zhu Zhuqing rushed in as well, supporting him from the other side.
"Using an support-type Martial Soul at such a massive scale—you'll collapse before anyone else!"
Li Zhexian exhaled slowly.
Two fingers extended in a slash.
A weakened yet still sharp sword intent flew out, cutting down an enemy.
He glanced at the four dim Qinglian Swords hovering nearby, a bitter smile rising to his lips.
Activating Spirit Bones—
That too required Spirit Power.
If his Wine Martial Soul was used on himself alone, it would naturally restore his Spirit Power and strengthen him.
But to sustain others—he had to pay the price.
"It's nothing."
The Qinglian Sword in his hand still shone with lethal sharpness.
"I know my limits."
Before the words even faded, his blade swept horizontally, a bloody arc spraying across the air.
"After we break through—forget ten or fifteen days! Even if I have to book out the Fragrant Pavilion for an entire month, so be it!"
"Hahaha! Zhexian, so generous!"
Before his friends' laughter died down, Li Zhexian had already raised his sword and killed his way into the enemy ranks again.
Qian Renxue and Zhu Zhuqing clenched their teeth, refusing to leave his side, guarding him from both flanks.
The slaughter grew even more brutal.
Li Zhexian's Wine Martial Soul, with its terrifying group-amplification ability, made all who witnessed it tremble with fear.
Several academy teams that had been at the brink of annihilation miraculously pressed forward again, inching toward the mountain pass amidst fire and blood.
But—
The price of war could not be evaded.
Especially against enemies of the Spirit Douluo level.
Even Li Zhexian's support could not fill that gap.
Bai Baoshan fought alone against five Spirit Douluo.
His Martial Soul—an ornate furnace inlaid with seven gemstones, radiating purple-gold brilliance—was a top-tier defensive Tool-Type Martial Soul, the Heaven Star Furnace.
But now, cracks marred its surface.
"Zhexian… Yutianheng… Dugu Yan… Ye Lingling…"
A weary voice called out.
Li Zhexian and the others trembled, whipping their gazes over.
There—under the siege of five Spirit Douluo—Bai Baoshan's pallid face was smiling.
"Bring the championship… back to Heaven Dou…"
"Bring back… the fragments of Teacher's Heaven Star Furnace… back to Heaven Dou…"
Before their frozen eyes—
The eighth Spirit Ring beneath him burst with a profound dark radiance.
He opened his mouth.
Blood spilled with blurred words.
Resounding across the bloody battlefield.
"Eighth Spirit Ability—Star-Shifting Celestial Array…"
Boom—!
A purple-gold light erupted, like life's fire burning itself out, sweeping the battlefield.
In that instant—
Every Spirit Ability aimed at Li Zhexian and his friends was wrenched aside by an overwhelming force—redirected entirely onto Bai Baoshan himself.
The once-indestructible Heaven Star Furnace cracked with a teeth-grating snap, spiderweb fractures spreading in an instant.
Under the horrified stares of the five Spirit Douluo—
Bai Baoshan grinned a bloody grin.
"Today, this teacher will shine once more…"
"Let's all go together…"
BOOM—!
BOOM—!
BOOM—!
Deafening explosions tore open the heavens.
A storm of purple-gold energy shot skyward, pulverized stone and dust rising thousands of meters into the air.
When the light finally faded,
And the dust settled—
Nothing remained but a bottomless crater.
Thus—
Bai Baoshan, member of the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy's Board of Education, had fallen.
The man, once thought by Yu Tianheng and the others to be without sharpness or edge, dragged down five enemies of equal rank—
And became the first to fall.
Next—
Was the teacher accompanying Skywater Academy.
An eighty-first-rank Soul Douluo, besieged by two of the same rank, her icy spear shattered piece by piece.
In the end, one punch struck her—
Her body burst apart into drifting shards of snow and ice.
The Imperial Battle Team, the Skywater Team were swallowed by grief.
Dugu Yan and Shui Bing'er, eyes brimming with tears, led their teams in a frenzied, suicidal charge toward the enemy.
"Li Zhexian!"
From behind a Spirit Douluo's protection, Yan sneered mockingly:
"See it? Do you see it?"
"Can you guess how many will die today, because of you?"
"I told you—"
"I'll watch you drown in despair!"
Li Zhexian's face showed neither sorrow nor joy.
Shielded by Qian Renxue and Zhu Zhuqing, he rushed toward Yan.
Head-on, he clashed with Yan's protector, a Spirit Douluo.
"Puff—!"
Blood spurted from his mouth.
His fourth spirit ring deepened one more shade of crimson.
On the Qinglian Sword in his hand, twelve lotus blossoms burned brighter—two more now dyed scarlet.
Borrowing that momentum, he broke through the blockade at last, and reached Yan.
Yan's pupils contracted to needle points.
"No..."
The words of surrender came to an abrupt halt.
The Qinglian Sword's light—
Flashed and vanished.
A head flew high into the air, hot blood spraying meters away.
Qian Renxue, Zhu Zhuqing, and Dugu Yan, who arrived just in time, blocked the swarming Spirit Hall Spirit Masters.
Li Zhexian staggered. He bent down to pick up the Heaven Star Furnace fragments and the ice crystal spear remnants on the ground.
Blood splattered onto the paper of the Heavenly Dou City Spirit Master. He hastily wiped it, but he couldn't wipe away that dazzling scarlet patch.
Gritting his teeth, eyes bloodshot, he dipped his brush and pressed ink to paper, the strokes trembling with force:
"Board of Education member Bai Baoshan… fought five foes… perished together with them…"
"Slywater Academy… Ice Spear Spirit Douluo… held off two foes… fell without retreat…"
"Lord Sword Wine…"
He looked up. In his field of vision, smoke was billowing, and blood was surging.
Looking at the youth in the distance with a desolate figure and blood-soaked, fluttering robes, he trembled, but was still writing stroke by stroke.
Writing with blood.