Chapter 39
Dark Battle Angel: The Void Within.
Pit Of The Damned~
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Yang Jiang's temples throbbed, veins crawling like angry serpents across his forehead.
"Damn it… damn it all… damn you, Kuang Luosheng."
The thought rang in his skull like a funeral bell. Every life weighed on him, each face screaming in silence. It felt less like a choice and more like his soul being peeled apart piece by piece.
Finally, he raised his head, lips trembling. "I choose…" His voice cracked, the air itself tightening. "…none."
The arena erupted.
Gasps. Curses. Some even laughed — the kind of nervous laughter born from staring too long at a coffin.
Kuang Luosheng, of course, did not laugh. His grin deepened, teeth flashing like a predator who had found the juiciest prey. "So you choose to save no one? A bold strategy. Tell me, how does it feel to audition for the role of 'Most Useless Father of the Year'?"
Yang Jiang's eyes hardened. "I would never abandon my daughter."
A hush fell — until a flat, cold voice cut through.
"But she isn't your blood."
"Ahhhh...."
"Who's this fool.
"Dear heavens, he actually dared to speak such."
"He's really afraid he isn't loosing his head fast enough."
The crowd recoiled. Murmurs bubbled. Heads turned to a lone figure, most of his face was concealed beneath a silver mask. He stood motionless, voice stripped of pity.
However if Lu Xietong could see the face beneath the sliver mask she would be stunned silly, as it was the strange youth she had met in the sky reaching Pagoda– Xue Xing!
Reason be damned, he had secretly followed her all the way here and was playing the villain.
"Why risk yourself for her? The Yan clan's prodigy is also inside. Shouldn't you be… grateful, if fate does the dirty work for you?" Xue Xing added.
For a moment, Yang Jiang's divine idol's gaze burned like a divine executioner's blade. The stranger didn't even flinch. The tension was suffocating — then—
"Family isn't defined by blood," Yin Feiyu's voice rang, pure and cold, like a sword unsheathed under moonlight.
The moment should have been moving. Should have been inspiring.
Instead—
"Yaaawn."
A deliberate, exaggerated yawn slithered through the silence, dripping venom. "Touching speech. Truly. Almost moved me to tears. Almost."
A ripple of uneasy laughter spread. Even in fear, people found themselves chuckling.
Yin Feiyu's lips curled. "Keep talking. Maybe your own boredom will kill you before I do."
Kuang Luosheng clapped mockingly. "Oh, splendid. A sermon about family and whatnot and a arena filled with useless audience. Truly, the Pit of the Damned is wasted as a battlefield. We should host a comedy festival here instead, starring you lot." His voice dropped, the amusement turning to ice. "But I am bored. So let me choose for you."
He pointed lazily at the two figures within the ward, one sprawled on the floor and the other an unreadable expression on her face. "Those two are mine. The rest of you can scuttle along and thank me for my generosity."
The crowd, hypocrites at heart, rejoiced silently. Eyes sparkled with relief, though lips stayed tight in fear.
Yang Jiang's voice thundered, shaking the ward. "Harm one hair on their heads, and you will not leave this place alive!"
Kuang Luosheng tilted his head, chuckling like a butcher hearing his pigs squeal. "Alive? You still haven't realized. I don't fear you. You could all charge me at once, and the only difference is whether I kill you slowly or quickly."
"Big words," Yin Feiyu spat. "Open the ward. Show us."
"If you where that powerful you wouldn't have employed such despicable means."
"He's clearly trash acting all might."
Others began to chip in regaining their confidence and becoming bolder with every word as their courage grew teeth.
Kuang Luosheng's laughter cracked sharp as bones breaking. "You fools still don't understand. This ward isn't to keep you out. It's to keep them in. You? You were never worth trapping."
The words landed heavier than blades. Faces twisted with shame. They knew deep down that he was right but it didn't stop it from hurting their egos.
"And what is so good about them that we're not worthy of your attention?" One of the experts present, engulfed in his Dharma Idol that looked looked strange and unclassifiable said but everyone gave him a strange look, even Kuang Luosheng.
"Are you suggesting I devour you instead?" Kuang Luosheng asked amused.
"Luosheng come out and face me if you aren't just bluffing." Jiang cut in. He didn't dare let the conversation get any weirder.
Then, as if tired of theater, Kuang Luosheng stepped through the ward. "Fine. All of you, come at me."
They did.
For a single heartbeat, the arena brimmed with courage. But courage rotted quickly.
A pressure fell — heavy, suffocating, ancient. One by one, bodies froze mid-charge, as though invisible chains bound their limbs.
Behind Kuang Luosheng, something enormous stirred. A white skull, colossal, mist-wreathed, spanning several hundreds of meters. It's grin wide enough to swallow worlds. Unlike a False Idol, it did not cling to him but loomed in the sky, two ghostly rings — one nested inside the other, spun slowly. Wrong. Blasphemous. Unholy.
"Behold," Kuang Luosheng whispered, voice silk and venom. "The face of your doom."
Then, louder, jagged with madness: "Soul Decimating Blade!"
He raised two fingers like as a makeshift sword, and the skull vomited a blade woven from screaming souls.
One strike.
Experts flew like ragdolls, bodies cracking against the stone chairs, blood raining across the arena.
The laughter returned. Low. Guttural. Inhuman.
And yet, somehow, Kuang Luosheng still smirked. "What did I tell you? Comedy festival."
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