The Ansha's Wrath
The golden bell rang again, its tone slicing through the howling wind, vibrating through every stone of the cliff. Xiao Yan's hands shook as he lifted the sword, each pulse of the bell thrumming against his bones like a heartbeat aimed straight at the Ansha.
But the Ansha laughed.
A sound that twisted the air, cold, dark, and impossibly vast.
"It's a pity," he sneered, voice echoing like the roar of a thousand storms. "You are all still naive… the same as a thousand years ago. Do you think a measly bell can harm me? I am the Ansha! THE ANSHA!!"
His eyes flared red, raw demonic energy spilling from them. The serene blue of his robe blackened in an instant; his hair thickened and stretched, writhing like dark serpents. Shadows coiled around him, snapping and hissing as shockwaves rolled across the cliff with every step.
"Take cover!" Lu Qi shouted, voice quivering as the earth trembled beneath them.
Before anyone could react, the Ansha moved. Faster than any mortal eye could follow, he closed the distance to Lu Qi. With one effortless hand, he lifted the Saint, crushing him against his palm. Blood sprayed from Lu Qi's lips, his armor denting like paper.
"Ansha! What are you doing?!" Xiao Yan screamed, rage and fear twisting together in his chest.
The Ansha's red gaze bore into him, cold and merciless. "What do you think?" he hissed. "I'm finishing what I started!"
Mi‑An's heart lurched. She could not stand idle while Lu Qi suffered. Ignoring Xiao Yan's desperate pleas, she surged forward. Her aura flared like a tempest, every hair on her body standing on end as she hurled herself at the Ansha.
The bell's vibrations thrummed through Xiao Yan, igniting a spark of hope and power within him.
"Xiao Yan! Don't worry about me!" Lu Qi gasped weakly. "Take the bell… end him!"
Mi‑An collided with the Ansha. They clashed violently, her energy meeting his like two storms colliding. She shoved, tried to push him toward the cliff's edge—but the Ansha's power was overwhelming. A tempest of darkness erupted around him, tearing rocks and debris into the swirling vortex.
The two spiraled through the air, caught in the crushing force of god-like energy, shadows stretching and twisting as they fell.
Xiao Yan staggered back, his chest heaving. The Ansha's aura slammed against him and the remaining Saints, pushing their limits, bending the cliffside beneath their feet. He blinked, straining to see—but Mi‑An and the Ansha were gone.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then Xiao Yan's scream tore through the void:
"MI‑AN!!!"
The wind answered, howling across the cliff, carrying with it the echo of Mi‑An's struggle and the Ansha's dark laughter.
The golden bell still rang in Xiao Yan's hands, its vibrations a constant reminder: the fight was far from over.
Above, the storm gathered, lightning forking violently through the clouds, as if the heavens themselves bore witness to the clash of powers that could decide life, death, and the fate of the realms.
Xiao Yan tightened his grip, feeling the bell's energy surge into him, mingling with his rage. Somewhere below, Mi‑An battled the Ansha. And he knew—in the next instant—the fate of all would hang in the balance.