Chapter 682: The Crimson Eclipse
"Red!"
Ku Zhiye flared his eyes, his gaze downward. A surge of countless crimson sparks erupted from his mouth, each one a concentrated burst of immense power. The sheer density of these sparks made the air ripple, as if the very space around him trembled under their weight. It was a sight so overwhelming that even the most seasoned beings would have been overwhelmed, let alone crushed.
The sky above the battlefield was already crimson, the air itself transformed into a scorching inferno. The outer layers had turned into a blazing, blood-red haze, while the inner core glowed with a deep, searing crimson—its temperature soaring into the hundreds of thousands of degrees. If any ordinary being were present, they would have been instantly vaporized.
Yet Ku Zhiye, as a Hua Yu, a being forged from the very essence of the world itself, remained unfazed. He stood tall, his Spirit Form radiating a presence that seemed to stretch from the depths of the earth to the heavens above. Countless lifeforms—some ancient, some forgotten—had passed through his sight, but none could compare to the raw, overwhelming power he now wielded.
"Can you really believe..."
A deep, resonant voice echoed through the battlefield, trembling the very fabric of reality. The crimson sparks flared even brighter, swirling like a storm of fire, as if the very concept of life had been redefined. The sky burned, the wind howled, and the ground cracked beneath the pressure.
"…That this Soulflare’s power could be contained by mere mortals?"
He turned his head slightly, his left eye flickering with a faint crimson light. From the void above, a massive, jagged blade of shadow and flame—Great Gloomfang—emerged, its edges whispering with the fury of a thousand storms. It sliced through the air, aiming directly for Ku Zhiye’s Spirit Front.
For a moment, the crimson sky was pierced by a sudden surge of wind—razor-sharp, scorching hot, slicing through the air like a blade of fire. It tore through the space, threatening to rip the sky apart. But Ku Zhiye did not flinch.
Instead, he let out a low chuckle.
"Unworthy."
He flicked his wrist, and a barrier of crimson light flared around him—Crimson Glimmer, his soul’s defense. The wind hit it, but the barrier held. The air around him shimmered with energy, and the wind itself seemed to recoil.
The moment passed.
Ku Zhiye’s eyes narrowed. He could feel the presence of the Red Thread—its subtle, eternal pull, like a thread of fate woven into the fabric of existence. He didn’t need to look. He could sense it, like a heartbeat beneath his skin.
"Unworthy," he repeated.
His voice carried no anger, only cold certainty. The Red Thread had been severed before. But this time, it would not be so easily broken.
A faint tremor ran through the air. A single crimson spark pulsed in the sky, then another. Then a hundred. Then a thousand.
Ku Zhiye closed his eyes.
And then—the world burned.
---
The sky erupted into chaos. Crimson lightning split the heavens, tearing through the clouds like jagged claws. The ground cracked, rivers of molten rock spilling from the fissures. The air itself screamed as it was torn apart by the force of the Soulflare.
From within the storm, a single figure emerged—Ku Zhiye, his body wreathed in crimson fire. His eyes burned with the light of a dying star. The Red Thread pulsed in his chest, its connection to the world trembling, but unbroken.
He raised his hand.
"Enough."
His voice was calm, yet it echoed across the battlefield like a god’s decree.
A wave of crimson energy surged outward—Crimson Glimmer, now no longer just a shield, but a weapon. It spread like wildfire, consuming everything in its path. The very air shimmered with power, and the laws of nature themselves seemed to bend.
The Red Thread trembled.
And then—it snapped.
A shockwave of pure energy tore through the battlefield. The sky split open. The earth cracked. The very concept of time seemed to stutter.
For a moment, silence.
Then—a new dawn.
The storm ceased. The sky cleared, revealing a sky streaked with crimson, like a wound healing. The Red Thread was gone. But Ku Zhiye stood, unharmed, his presence now more powerful than ever.
He looked down at his hand.
A single spark remained.
It pulsed once.
Then vanished.
---
"This… is not the end."
Ku Zhiye whispered, his voice barely audible.
But the world heard.
And it trembled.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
