Chapter 184: Kong's Corruption, the 'Tian Dao' Within His Soul [Monthly Ticket Bonus Chapter]

Crushing. A one-sided, merciless obliteration—no contest, no mercy.

As Yufemia unleashed her Ten Blade Style, Chen Kong, who had once managed to hold his own, was now utterly trapped—defenseless, broken, and cornered.

Between the flashing blades, wounds began to bloom across Chen Kong’s body. Crimson blood seeped through his clothes, staining him from head to toe.

He hadn’t stopped struggling.

But neither his newly mastered Feather Gun Duel Art, nor his Awakening of the Stellar Core · Void Pattern, could stand against Yufemia’s overwhelming raw stats and flawless technique.

Void Pattern? Even if it could suppress Stellar Sources and spells, it couldn’t block a real, physical slash.

Gun Duel Art? Bullets that never even grazed her sleeve—what were they but fireworks that burst and vanished after a single show?

Faced with such a chasm of power, a crushing sense of helplessness overwhelmed Chen Kong’s mind.

His limbs grew heavier. His eyelids grew heavier. The once-fluid movements of his Duel Art began to falter, then collapse under the relentless storm of Yufemia’s blades.

In a daze, his mind blurred. Memories surged forward like a tidal wave—his childhood, the old Yujin Base, the faces of those long lost.

When he compared himself to them, a bitter ache welled up.

…I’ve always just been protected, haven’t I?

Maybe Yufemia was right. Maybe he should admit his weakness. Accept his ordinariness.

That way, perhaps he could live more easily.

The thought took root—like a creeping vine—coiling tightly around his heart.

His actions in Reality slowed. His eyes drifted shut, as if welcoming the inevitable end.

“Hmm, Kong… giving up already?”

A familiar voice, laced with mockery, cut through the silence like a stone tossed into still water. Chen Kong snapped back to awareness.

He opened his eyes.

He stood in a vast, empty Clear Space, its surface a mirror-flat expanse of tranquil water.

Far off, a silver-haired boy in a black coat, sunglasses perched on his face, sat casually atop a Square Black Crystal, grinning that ever-irritating, arrogant smile.

“Tian Dao… why are you here?”

Tian Dao leapt down from the stone, landing directly in front of Chen Kong.

He lowered his sunglasses, revealing his signature pale blue eyes, and scoffed.

“Kong, you shouldn’t be asking why I’m here. You should be asking why you are.”

“This is the deepest layer of your soul—where all beings go when they’ve abandoned their Will to live.”

“Only those who’ve given up on survival come here to hide.”

As he spoke, Tian Dao raised a hand. The void of the soul space rippled, and an image of the real world projected into the air.

There, in Reality, Chen Kong was being mercilessly toyed with by Yufemia—bloodied, broken, utterly defeated.

Yes, he had given up in the real world. That’s why his soul had fled here.

To escape the coming fate.

Chen Kong let out a bitter laugh.

“You’re probably laughing at me now, Tian Dao. Laughing at my weakness. My delusion.”

“Someone so weak, yet still reaching for things beyond my grasp… I’m just…”

“Laughing? No, no.” Tian Dao cut him off, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder—so hard Chen Kong staggered.

Then, Tian Dao’s expression softened—rarely serious, his blue eyes now sharp with gravity.

“Listen, Kong. Weakness isn’t a sin. Cowardice is.”

“Challenging the gods may be foolish. But kneeling before them without a fight? That’s shameful.”

He pulled his hand back, slipping it into his coat pocket.

“Because the first means you’ve already given everything. It’s not your fault.”

“While the second? It means you’ve already surrendered in your heart. A craven plea for mercy.”

“Yet you—though you never quite grasp your own worth—have kept standing up again and again.”

“Each time, you’ve proven that while your body may be frail, your soul and Will are stronger than anyone else’s.”

He tilted his head, grinning.

“Remember what I told you, Kong?”

“…Which one?”

Too many words had passed between them. Chen Kong couldn’t recall which one.

“You’re hopeless,” Tian Dao sighed, then flashed that familiar, infuriating grin.

And he spoke the words he’d said to Chen Kong on the eve of the Yujin Final Evaluation:

“When you feel there’s no way out—ask yourself why you’re still alive.”

The words struck like lightning through his spine.

Chen Kong remembered it clearly.

Back then, he hadn’t awakened his Void Pattern. Fear had gripped him—terrified that a mere ordinary person like him could pass a test meant only for monsters.

But the result was known.

He didn’t just pass. He outperformed even Chen Xing (No. 2) and Yezhen Lin (No. 5).

Why? Why did I do it?

Chen Kong fell into deep thought.

Images flashed before him—like a film reel.

The boy in the base, bullied, yet never giving up—studying, training, pushing forward.

The one betrayed by the Dark Stellar Envoy, body pushed to the brink, yet still believing in a bright tomorrow.

The one who fell countless times… and got up every single time.

Now he understood.

Weakness wasn’t the sin.

It was cowardice. It was surrender.

When you choose to give up… Miracle abandons you, too.

But before this, Chen Kong had never denied his weakness.

And he had never stopped believing in Miracle.

That was why he’d created Miracle in the first place.

Because those who believe in Miracle… are just as extraordinary as Miracle itself.

“You’ve figured it out,” Tian Dao said, turning.

He had walked to the square black crystal, now facing Chen Kong, and gestured for him to come closer.

“Believing Miracle will come—it’s already incredible. But expecting it to always come? That’s unrealistic.”

“So, Kong… you need to unlock your own potential.”

“Like learning to command the rebellious spirit buried deep within your body.”

He kicked the black brick hard.

“Hey. You. Come out.”

In astonishment, Chen Kong watched as the massive black block shattered.

And from the dust, a figure emerged—identical in face to Chen Kong, but with white hair, white eyes, and white robes.

His expression—filled with arrogance, defiance, and a hint of malice—was unmistakably other.

He glared at Tian Dao, who had forced his presence.

“Tian Dao Siming. This is his Soul Sea. What right do you have, an outsider, to command me?”

Tian Dao didn’t flinch.

“Bai Kong, don’t give me that. You’re the one who didn’t ask for my permission before planting my Will projection here.”

“So if anyone’s intruding, it’s you—desperate for me to appear right now.”

“Do you really think I’d show up in a man’s soul for fun? I’m not that perverse.”

Bai Kong sneered.

“Hmph. A weakling who needs help—how did you even earn the Miracle Stone’s approval?”

He turned back to Tian Dao, voice dripping with contempt.

“Tian Dao Siming, I know what you’re trying to say. I know this is the moment I should step in. But why should I help this waste of space?”

Tian Dao raised two fingers.

“Two reasons.”

“First—helping him is helping you. If he dies, you die too.”

“Second…” Tian Dao’s eyes darkened, glinting with danger.

“You really think I’m asking? You can either come out willingly… or I’ll beat you out myself. Your choice.”

The arrogant smirk on Tian Dao’s face—unyielding, absolute—made Bai Kong grind his teeth.

“You’re just a memory projection—fused from someone’s desperate hope. Not the real Tian Dao Siming. How dare you speak to me like this?”

“This is my domain!”

With a roar, a monstrous shadow—only glimpsed as a flicker of a colossal, indistinct form—descended upon Bai Kong’s head.

The sky above the soul space twisted instantly—day turned to night, light to darkness.

Yet Tian Dao stood unmoved.

“Your domain?” Tian Dao shrugged. Then, with a casual motion, he yanked open his collar with his left hand.

His right hand raised—index and middle fingers pressed together, the middle finger pressing firmly onto the first joint of the index.

“. This is my domain.”

In an instant, a flood of stars poured from the void—crushing the darkness, banishing the shadow, dissolving the monster into nothing.

Tian Dao stood at the center of a dazzling galaxy, his smile calm—but his blue eyes unwavering, commanding.

“Come on, Bai Kong. Choose.”

“Will you leave on your own… or should I throw you out?”

“Just a heads-up—my patience isn’t infinite.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end