At that moment, in Theodore's sight, a familiar aura of madness began pouring out from Fenrir's corpse.
Then something even more horrifying happened.
The two halves of the body, which had collapsed separately onto the ground, suddenly rose upright again.
At the torn, blood-soaked surfaces where the corpse had been split, wet bubbling sounds began to emerge.
Then eyes started growing.
Eyes—bloodshot, swollen, twitching—sprouted across Fenrir's exposed organs, staring fixedly at Theodore.
A wave of corruption and insanity immediately rushed toward him, trying to burrow into his flesh and trigger some hideous mutation in his body.
But the golden radiance of his Adamantine Body had already activated on its own.
Holy and dazzling, it was untouched by evil.
The invading corruption struck against that golden light and could not pass through.
Yet the madness did not cease.
More and more eyes grew across Fenrir's remains.
The consumption of Theodore's protective golden light began accelerating at a visible rate.
Theodore let out a cold laugh.
This sort of corruption being able to wear down the light of his Adamantine Body was precisely what made it dangerous. He had no intention of letting even a trace of it touch his actual flesh.
But now things were different.
He had a destiny treasure protecting him.
And whether a cultivator possessed a true treasure or not made all the difference in the world.
Without hesitation, Theodore tapped the Purple-Gold Crown of Auspicious Clouds atop his head and poured the power of his Origin Sea into it.
The crown rose into the air.
At once, a sweep of pure, cleansing spiritual light descended.
Where that light fell, it merged with the golden brilliance of Theodore's body.
The result was immediate.
The corruption reacted as if it had encountered its natural bane. It could no longer advance even a fraction.
And when the cleansing light brushed across Fenrir's corpse, many of the grotesque eyes on it burst open instantly, releasing waves of foul-smelling smoke.
The aberrant thing growing from Fenrir recoiled at once, retreating from the range of the crown's light as though shocked.
All those countless eyes filled with fury and incomprehension.
Then two mouths split open out of the exposed organs, and from them came muttered sounds—chaotic, impossible to understand.
That single instant was enough to affect the nearby world.
Birds, beasts, insects, even the smallest creatures in the forest began to twist and distort.
Masses of writhing flesh began crawling toward Fenrir's corpse.
Most disturbingly of all, the dead werewolves lying everywhere nearby began giving off a similar aura of madness—far weaker than Fenrir's, but of the same nature.
Tentacles pushed out from their remains and dragged the bodies together toward him.
The next moment, dozens of werewolf corpses fused into a single malformed nightmare around Fenrir's remains, piecing themselves together into a broken, grotesque, flesh-bound monster beyond sane human imagination.
It was the sort of thing that merely seeing could infect the mind.
A single glance might have been enough to fracture an ordinary person into madness.
On the System screen, the chaotic script trembled as though in fear.
[Though the Western Saint remains seated above the Ninth Heaven, his fury descends and manifests through Ma Yuan.]
[Lotuses illuminate the worlds. Sacred radiance shines upon rivers and mountains.]
[Flowers fall from heaven; golden lotuses rise from the earth. These are the omens of a Saint's presence.]
[Upon Ma Yuan's body appears the form of a saint—twenty-four heads and eighteen arms, vast in might, before which gods and demons alike lose color.]
[The saintly form gazes down upon you and asks: Do you know your sin?]
[Enter the West, and you may yet be pardoned.]
The flesh-monster let out a low mutter toward Theodore.
The madness surging from it was far denser than before, trying to drag him down into itself.
Theodore frowned.
With the golden body-light and the cleansing radiance of the crown protecting him, he was in no danger of true corruption.
Still, looking at such a thing was revolting enough to test anyone's patience.
So this, then, was the aesthetic of the hidden horrors buried in the history of the wizarding world?
When faced with that muttered "invitation," Theodore did not even bother answering.
He brought the Ancient Staff down heavily.
At once, the thirty-six-petaled lotus bloomed once more in silver light. Above it, the blurred outline of Pangu raised the Heaven-Splitting Axe.
In the next second, fire and holy radiance condensed into a single line and shot toward the abomination.
The Lotus Holy Path Heaven-Splitting Light erupted again.
The monster's flesh immediately convulsed.
Harsh, broken roars tore out from it. Countless hateful eyes glared down. Tentacles made of blood and flesh burst outward and all rushed to intercept that beam of lotus light.
In an instant, countless tentacles were obliterated.
But more were born from the flesh just as quickly.
The Lotus Holy Path Heaven-Splitting Light was ground away by sheer endless regeneration.
Then, as soon as the beam vanished, a flood of tentacles surged toward Theodore in return.
He frowned again.
With a flick of his hand, he sent another wave of Origin Sea power into the Purple-Gold Crown.
This time, a drifting cloud of auspicious radiance descended—his strongest current means of defense.
Sure enough, when the countless tentacles struck that cloud-light, they met a barrier as firm as the heavens themselves. No matter how wildly they lashed, they could not shake it in the slightest.
A destiny treasure was rare even in the primordial world.
However wicked these magical-world horrors might be, at their current level they could do nothing against it.
Then Theodore inhaled deeply.
His entire body crackled as bones and sinews shifted.
The divine art of Three Heads and Eight Arms activated.
A terrifying aura shot skyward. Theodore's body surged upward by several feet, one arm after another extending from his frame as his power expanded in every direction.
Across from him, the abomination actually paused.
Confusion appeared in its countless eyes.
For the first time, Theodore understood exactly what was in that look.
Brother, same tribe?
Where are you from? Never seen one shaped like you before.
The next instant, Theodore's expression twisted savagely and he roared:
"I'm your ancestor eighteen generations back!"
The techniques of Imperial Staff and Sword-Flash Together erupted at once.
Staff-shadows and sword-light rained down like a storm, carrying towering baleful force as they smashed into the abomination from every angle.
After consuming multiple Demon-Refining Golden Pills in succession, Theodore's Origin Sea had expanded once more. As a result, he could maintain the state of Three Heads and Eight Arms much longer than before.
His attacks came like a tempest.
There was not even a single breath of pause.
The monster's flesh exploded madly under the barrage. Tentacles burst apart into blood mist one after another.
The ground itself collapsed.
Theodore hammered the thing bodily into a deep pit.
Then, under the all-round enhancement granted by his three-headed, eight-armed state, he swung the Ancient Staff once more.
The thirty-six-petaled lotus bloomed again.
This time, Pangu's outline was far clearer than before.
The Lotus Holy Path Heaven-Splitting Light, now far stronger than in its previous use, roared down into the pit.
Flames flooded the crater, burning and searing the aberrant flesh within.
Theodore let out a long breath and withdrew from the state of Three Heads and Eight Arms.
"Whatever you are," he said coldly, "if I smash you into minced meat and roast you flat on an iron plate, let's see whether you still refuse to die."
Yet almost immediately, his brow began to tighten.
The flames in the pit slowly died down.
And then—
strands of that same foul madness began creeping upward again.
The monster, reduced to a far smaller size than before, crawled back out of the crater.
Its countless eyes were still fixed on Theodore.
Its flesh was writhing again.
Rebuilding.
Restoring.
As if it could not truly be killed.
Theodore's expression darkened.
Now he understood.
This horror was not of exactly the same kind as the thing hidden within the grey mist of the Forbidden Forest.
That thing in the mist, with only a single fleeting glimpse, had dimmed the golden light around Theodore's body. Its level was terrifyingly high.
This thing, by contrast, was far weaker in the sheer intensity of its madness—but its endlessly proliferating, endlessly regenerative nature made it maddeningly troublesome.
The assault Theodore had just unleashed had already been one of the strongest he currently possessed.
And even that had failed to erase it completely.
Then Theodore's heart stirred.
A strand of killing sword energy spiraled once more at his fingertips.
"I nearly forgot."
"The Dao of Slaughter is best suited for dealing with enemies like this—things that cannot be killed cleanly and cannot be extinguished in one blow."
"If it doesn't die, then I'll just keep killing it."
"Every time it regenerates, it feeds the Sword of Slaughter more fuel."
"In the ancient catastrophe, even races famed for overwhelming vitality were nearly exterminated by the dark progenitor."
"My own Sword of Slaughter is a pale shadow compared to that."
"But you are only some twisted horror from the wizarding world."
"If even those primordial beings could be slaughtered, then what are you?"
"Come, then. Die."
In an instant, the killing sword energy shot out and plunged into the abomination's body, severing countless tentacles and destroying countless eyes.
At first, the creature paid it no real mind.
Its flesh continued writhing, trying to regenerate endlessly and wear the sword energy down through repetition.
But what it never expected was this:
the more wildly it regenerated, the more enthusiastically the killing sword energy slaughtered it.
Kill.
Kill again.
Kill without pause.
The sword energy knew no weariness.
It tore through everything before it with the unyielding intent to exterminate every last piece of whatever it had struck.
And with each act of slaughter, it was not weakened—
it grew stronger.
The tiny thread of sword energy that had once only circled around Theodore's fingertip became longer, brighter, redder.
More and more red.
More and more sharp.
A short time later, crimson sword energy was bursting from every part of the monster's body.
Then, with a violent burst, a three-foot blade of blood-red sword-light exploded out from within it and began circling through the air like a true flying sword.
The madness within the creature finally realized what was happening.
Continuing the fight would only nourish the Sword of Slaughter further.
At last, it gave up any intention of battling on.
Only one eye remained open, and that eye fixed Theodore with a long, deep stare.
Then every scrap of flesh belonging to the monster seemed to lose all cohesion at once.
Dust to dust.
Ash to ash.
In an instant, it all scattered and vanished.
The System screen filled again with text.
[You battle the manifestation of a Saint. A Saint is invincible. Even a mere projection is deathless, birthless, neither increasing nor decreasing, beyond the three realms and outside the five elements.]
[No matter how fiercely you attack, before the saintly manifestation it is no more than a spring breeze across the face.]
[Will you confess your sin? Will you enter the West?]
[The voice of heaven-bell and great chime resounds again, yet you remain unbowed. Your invincible heart of the path is not shaken even by the might of a Saint.]
[With one raised hand, you release the Sword of Slaughter, and in the struggle against the saintly manifestation, your Sword of Slaughter advances another step.]
[For the first time, the face of the saintly manifestation changes. Your exceedingly pure Sword of Slaughter has stirred scattered remnants of the dark progenitor's soul left buried in the western lands.]
[The West is the foundation of the Western Saint's creed. Disturbance rises there, and so the Western Saint can no longer spare attention to you. Before dispersing the manifestation, he casts one final glance your way.]
[If you ruin his plans again, then when the Saint's manifestation descends next time, it will not let the matter end so lightly.]
Theodore lifted a hand.
The three-foot blood-red sword-light flew back with a shrill cry and settled into his grasp like a genuine flying sword.
A trace of regret appeared on his face.
In such a short time, the killing sword energy had grown so much on the body of that horror, transforming into a full three-foot blade of sword-light.
If Theodore had tried to nourish it solely through ordinary combat, how long would it have taken to raise it to this level?
If that thing had reacted just a little more slowly—
If that madness had withdrawn just a little later—
he might have gained even more.
"You were inviting me to join you a moment ago," Theodore said lightly. "Yet you're unwilling to invest even this much. How are you supposed to grow your enterprise with that attitude?"
But when his eyes fell to the System's final warning—that if he ruined the Western Saint's plans again, the next manifestation would descend far more fiercely than today—his expression suddenly brightened instead.
"Oh, excellent."
"So killing Fenrir Greyback was only extermination, not the complete extinction of the bloodline. I still haven't even claimed the Merit Descends Upon the Body reward."
"And now you're telling me there may be extra rewards on top of that?"
"In that case, I seem to have gained yet another reason to wipe werewolves out of the wizarding world entirely."
The text on the screen trembled as if shaken by his spirit.
[Faced with the warning left behind by the departing Western Saint, you are battered and wounded, yet you still throw back your head and laugh, heroic as ever.]
[How could those who walk the path spend their lives looking forward and back in hesitation?]
[This time I ruined your plan. Next time, if your plan again endangers the living, I will draw my sword again without regret.]
[And as for you—if you remain unworthy of sainthood, then I swear upon the Great Dao that one day—]
[With a rising sword, I will split the Pillar of Heaven and overturn the vault of the world before I rest!]
Send the next chapter whenever you're ready, and I'll keep the tone, naming, and System voice locked to this version.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 60 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/StrawHatStudios