Shattering the Cage
Yao Xuan's command was a spark igniting prepared tinder. "Zero Class Squad, engage! Show them our coordination!"
"Yes, Captain!" The response was a unified, sharp echo of trust and readiness.
The battlefield erupted not in chaos, but in a symphony of controlled power.
Gu Yue moved first, a study in elegant lethality. Her second purple ring glowed. "Elemental Control: Ice Phoenix." She didn't shout; she whispered, and the air before her crystallized, birthing a magnificent phoenix of sculpted ice, its wings shedding a gentle snow that burned with profound cold. With a flick of her wrist, it soared silently to meet Rong Dahuo's shrieking fire phoenix head-on.
The collision was a cataclysm of opposites. Steam and concussive force exploded outward in a roaring ring, shaking the ancient trees to their roots. Yet, even as she launched the ice phoenix, Gu Yue's other hand wove a complex pattern. A surge of controlled wind whispered around Yao Xuan, Tang Wulin, Xie Xie, and Zhang Yangzi, lending a supernatural lightness to their steps. Her support was seamless, multitasking on an instinctual level.
Tang Wulin was the anchor. With a grunt, the ground around him erupted with thick, glowing Bluesilver Grass vines. They didn't just sprout; they lashed out with purpose, seeking to entangle the lightning-fast forms of Jin Haiqian and the ghostly Xia Qiu. Simultaneously, golden light erupted from his body—scales shimmering into existence, his aura solidifying into that of a primordial beast. He targeted Jin Haiqian directly, a golden meteor aiming to intercept blue lightning.
Xu Xiaoyan, though her stellar magic was muted by day, was no bystander. Trained by Wu Changkong, she manifested rings of constricting light energy—not to damage, but to hinder, creating zones of sluggishness that further complicated the agility-types' maneuvers.
Xie Xie became a puzzle of shadows. His body seemed to fracture. A "Light Dragon Clone" shot left, a "Shadow Dragon Clone" darted right, and his true form, using "Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track," became a flickering illusion, engaging Xia Qiu in a duel of phantoms and feints that was as much a mental battle as a physical one.
And then there was Yao Xuan.
He became the spearhead. "Ancestral Dragon Possession. Ancestral Dragon Overlord Body. Ancestral Dragon Transformation."
The declarations were quiet, internal. The effects were anything but. Nine-colored radiance enveloped him, resolving into lustrous, interlocking scales. His limbs transformed into weapons of draconic perfection. Then, the bloodline power surged. Intricate Dao patterns, shimmering with the authority of creation, etched themselves across the scales on his arms and torso. His claws lengthened, humming with energy that threatened the integrity of the very air around them. His presence became a pressure, a focal point of reality.
"Ancestral Dragon Saint-Slaying Spear."
The third purple ring flashed. In his grasp, reality bent and concentrated, forming the blood-gold spear, its very existence a denial of weakness. He gripped it, and his aura didn't just rise; it crystallized, sharp and absolute.
His Eye of Insight had already chosen the first strategic target: Hong Jing, the Thunder Mace wielder. Eliminate one artillery piece, disrupt their synchronized volley.
"Ancestral Dragon Sky-Shattering Step." Space itself compressed and propelled him. He was a golden lance shot from a divine bow, aimed at Hong Jing's heart.
"Imprisonment!" Luo Guixing's voice cut through the din, calm but urgent. His first purple ring pulsed.
The space around Yao Xuan solidified. It wasn't a wall; it was a sudden, profound thickness, like being submerged in transparent stone. The air stopped moving. Momentum died. For most, it would be an instant, helpless trap—a fly in amber, ready for the swat. Luo Guixing's eyes narrowed, already calculating his next move, the short-range teleport to bring his strikers into point-blank range.
Yao Xuan felt the spatial pressure seal around him. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. 'Predictable. He leads with control to enable the kill.'
"You think space itself can hold me?" His voice, laced with draconic resonance, tore through the unnatural silence. "Break."
He didn't struggle against the prison. He rejected its premise. The bloodline ability Ancestral Dragon Sky-Shattering Step wasn't just for movement; its underlying principle was the shattering of void. He focused that power inwardly, then outward in a pulse.
A soundless crack reverberated through the spiritual senses of every soul master present. The solidified space around Yao Xuan webbed with violet fractures, then disintegrated into harmless, dissipating sparkles. He shot forward again, his momentum not just restored but amplified by the released energy.
Luo Guixing's composure shattered. His blue eyes widened. His spatial confinement, a technique that had pinned Soul Emperors, had been broken like a child's toy. A cold splash of realization hit him: he was not facing a superior force; he was facing a different order of power.
Yao Xuan closed the final distance to Hong Jing. The Thunder Mace wielder, seeing his ultimate lightning attack being prepared, roared to mask his sudden fear, swinging his weapon to generate a colossal bolt of pure thunder.
Yao Xuan didn't slow. Soul power, bloodline energy, spiritual force, and the indomitable will of the Ancestral Dragon converged into the tip of his Saint-Slaying Spear. The air around the tip screamed, warping into a vortex of destructive potential.
"Great Wilderness Annihilation Spear—Second Form: Shaking Heaven and Earth."
He thrust.
It was not a beam of light. It was a line of nullification. The spear's energy didn't clash with the colossal lightning bolt; it erased it. The thunderous energy met the golden spear-point and simply ceased to exist, unraveled at a fundamental level. The spear light continued, undimmed, a destined line drawn towards Hong Jing.
To Hong Jing, in that moment, the world shrunk to that approaching point of light. It carried not just force, but a concept—the inevitability of ruin. His fighting spirit, his boosted soul power, his martial soul—all of it felt insignificant. A primal, soul-deep terror locked his limbs. Despair, cold and complete, flooded his heart.
"NO!" The scream was raw, born of instinct, not defiance.
He managed a final, desperate block, raising the Thunder Mace. The spear light touched it.
There was no dramatic explosion. The mace, the symbol of his power, fragmented into motes of energy. The light passed through his guard, through his chest.
Hong Jing's form flared a brilliant white and vanished.
Silence, heavy and profound, gripped that section of the grove. The remaining members of Luo Guixing's team froze for a critical second, their coordinated assault broken at its core. The spear's afterimage seemed to linger in the air, a testament to a power that operated beyond their tactical playbook.
Yao Xuan landed lightly, the Saint-Slaying Spear still gleaming in his hand. He turned his golden, slitted eyes towards Luo Guixing, who stood behind Bai Juyi's shield, his face pale, his gentle confidence replaced by the stark understanding of a strategist who has just seen his master plan rendered obsolete.
The battle was far from over, but the balance of power had just been irrevocably shattered.