The choice was no choice at all. Godhood, or her. Gongsun Lie’s arm struck like a falling cleaver.
“You are insignificant!” the fading entity shrieked, its desperate wisp of sickly green vapor already inches from Tang Siyue’s parted lips. Lie moved faster.
He erupted into motion. A blinding burst of raw Qi, siphoned from the dying altar, from the fiend’s consumed essence, wrapped his knuckles in hard white fire. It lacked the draconic heat of Ao Bantian and the polished weight of his Zenith Realm. It was an unbridled detonation torn straight from the fiend, hammered into shape by his own will.
He never touched the demonic wisp. The concussive blast off his knuckles broke the air, pulverizing the entity before it reached her. It imploded, a whisper of malice gone forever.
The shockwave rolled past unchecked. It widened into a churning funnel of azure radiance, smashing square into the center of the Sacrificial Altar. The ancient stone structure, drenched in millennia of blood and dark intent, began to groan. Cracks, like lightning bolts, tore across its surface, glowing with the absorbed power.
“You fool!” Ao Bantian’s voice, a roar of incredulous fury and begrudging admiration, echoed in his mind. “You just consumed a thousand years of pure terror and you *waste* it?! The price! The price for *that* was…!”
“Worth it,” Lie murmured, ignoring the dragon's screech. His gaze locked onto the fracturing masonry. The stolen godhood bled away, emptying through his cracked meridians like bathwater, but regret never crossed his mind.
The altar collapsed inward without a sound, dragging shadows, stone, and air into a singularity before bursting into a flash of white heat. The blood-dimension, the very pocket of reality crafted by the fiend’s dark arts, screamed and ripped apart. Lie wrapped an arm around Siyue’s waist, pulling her flush against him, shielding her as the world dissolved around them.
One moment, they were in a void of collapsing light. The next, they were tumbling onto solid ground, coughing, gasping, and alive. The air was thick with ash and the acrid stench of burnt rock. Their ears rang. When Lie pushed himself up, his eyes immediately scanned for Siyue. She lay beside him, bruised, disoriented, but breathing. He pulled her gently into a sitting position, checking her over. Her spear, miraculously, was still clutched in her hand.
“You… you idiot,” Siyue rasped, her voice rough. She coughed through a plume of grit, glaring at him with hard disbelief.
He simply offered a small, crooked smirk, then looked around. The view was… apocalyptic. The Tiansha Star Pavilion, once a grand mountain fortress, lay leveled in smoking slag. Deep gouges scarred the cracked bedrock. Zenith Peak itself had split down the middle, its fractured spine piercing the grey haze.
“A bit over the top, wouldn’t you say?” A familiar, cheerful voice cut through the devastation. Bu Jinhuan sauntered out from behind a miraculously intact storage shed, whistling a jaunty tune. He was covered in soot, his robes askew, but wore a grin wider than a river. Slinging over his shoulder was a massive burlap sack, bulging with items, clinking ominously.
“Bu Jinhuan,” Siyue said, her voice dry. “What exactly have you been doing?”
Bu Jinhuan shrugged, adjusting the sack. “Doing my part, of course. While the world was ending, someone had to secure the sect’s… future. And its assets. Consider it a public service. The sect elders won’t be needing these anymore, will they?” He patted the sack, which chimed with the sound of countless spirit stones and rare artifacts.
A muffled whimper drifted from a mound of shattered pillars. A soot-streaked face pushed through the rubble. Pei Luyan dragged herself free, robes torn to ribbons, scorched hem dragging through the ash.
Bloodshot and tear-streaked, her gaze fixed on Lie, then snapped to Siyue. She scrambled towards him, her voice a desperate, reedy whine. “Gongsun Lie! You… you actually did it! I knew it! I always knew you had this power! Please, my Lie, forgive my foolishness! I… I was blinded! I was wrong! Take me back! We can rebuild this together! We can rule the Nine-Veined Expanse!” She reached out a trembling hand, trying to grasp his tattered sleeve.
Lie didn’t even glance at her. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, on the smoke-stained sky. He reached into the spatial ring he'd taken from Young Master Ye, pulling out a sack heavy with high-grade spirit stones. He tossed it casually over his shoulder, a dismissive flick of the wrist. It landed with a thud beside Bu Jinhuan, who caught it with practiced ease.
“Ao Bantian,” Lie said, his voice carrying a calm authority that made Bu Jinhuan actually flinch. “That’s your payment. One premium dual-cultivation manual. Make it worth my while.”
From the depths of Lie’s blood, Ao Bantian’s exasperated groan was audible. “You… you truly are the most maddeningly prideful… Fine! A deal is a deal! But don’t come crying to me when you realize the price of *that* particular technique!”
Lie merely chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. He turned to Siyue, his eyes softening imperceptibly. He reached for her hand. Her fingers, though calloused from her spear, were warm against his. She looked at him, a faint flush on her cheeks, and squeezed back.
“Let’s go,” Lie said, his voice clear, cutting through the devastation. “The Tiansha Star Pavilion was just a stepping stone. The Nine-Veined Expanse awaits.”
Side by side, Gongsun Lie and Tang Siyue turned their backs on the ruined compound, heading down the shattered mountain toward the open realm. Bu Jinhuan, his bulging sacks clinking merrily, jogged to catch up, already humming a new tune, undoubtedly planning his next scam. The world was theirs for the taking, and they had only just begun to strike.