The battlefield writhed in madness. Screams, steel, and wailing spirits tangled together as if the world itself had become a living nightmare.
The macaques still clutching their conjured Qi swords charged with ragged breaths, golden blades flashing against ghostly chains. Their bodies were battered, fur matted with blood, yet they fought with the desperation only death could forge.
One fell to its knees, begging as a spirit's fangs sank into its shoulder."Alpha! Spare us—! We only obeyed!"
Oliver's Oni form glanced down, crimson eyes gleaming with cold amusement. His voice was thunder, merciless and final:
"we've already gave you tools to prove yourselves. If you are unworthy, then rot."
The puppet loosed another volley of golden arrows, cutting down the pleading macaques without hesitation. Their corpses twitched as ghosts surged past to devour their souls.
But not all yielded to despair.
A hulking macaque, chest heaving, roared so loud the ground shook. Burning Qi ignited across its body, the golden glow shifting into searing yang fire that wrapped its frame. Veins bulged, muscles cracked as it forced its body beyond its limits. With a savage bellow, it swung its conjured blade and cleaved through a charging ghost, the specter dissipating in a spray of pale mist.
Others followed, desperation twisting into madness. Fur ignited with yang Qi, bodies steaming as they burned life itself for power. One burst apart mid-leap, but its dying strike shattered a ghost's skull. Another rammed into the skeleton's shin, claws glowing as they scraped immortal bone. Sparks burst, though the strike left its body broken and quivering on the ground.
Oliver grinned, teeth sharp, delighted at the sight. "So… you finally claw toward worth." His polearm swept outward, bisecting three macaques who had faltered. This is excellent. Now we're finally getting somewhere.
The girls fought at his side, their forms dancing in bloody arcs of beauty.
Takara cut through a yang-burned macaque, her nagamaki splitting its torso even as its dying strike grazed her arm. She hissed but pressed on, resolve sharpening.
Kaede roared as she spun, dual naginatas whirling like twin storms. She carved through empowered beasts, staggering under their heat but never yielding.
Sana darted between them all, a shadow among flames. Her asura needles rained down, piercing eyes and throats even as their bodies kept moving, fueled by sheer will.
"Oliver!" Takara shouted, voice raw. "They fight like men possessed!"
"They are," he growled back, crimson eyes flashing. "Burning themselves alive to be seen. But it's not enough, if this is all their desperation is worth."
The Onryō's hair writhed beside him, black strands impaling corpses and threading through them like puppets. Lantern flames licked the dead, and they stood once more—macaques reanimated, shrieking as their own bodies turned against the living.
The survivors froze in horror. Some dropped blades, hands raised in trembling pleas.
"Alpha—! Please—we've proven ourselves! We'll obey! We'll give you all the women, all the food—just spare us!"
The puppet answered in a voice sharp as broken glass:
"Your pleas mean nothing. Show me your resolve."
Golden light blazed as it drew again, arrows raining like divine punishment. Screams cut short, the stench of blood and burning Qi filled the air.
The few yang-burned macaques that remained roared to the skies, defiant as their bodies cracked and bled. They charged ghosts head-on, slashing through chains and biting teeth with raw fury. Their sacrifice tore gaps in the tide, if only for moments.
But the pavilion drank in every death. Souls ripped free were devoured by the crimson banners above, veins pulsing brighter, swelling like arteries feeding a hungry heart.
The ground was no longer soil but a slick mire of gore, flame, and spectral frost.
Oliver raised his polearm high, laughter echoing across the battlefield, cruel and triumphant.
"This is the Dual Cultivation Beast Sect's first lesson," he roared, voice carrying like a decree from the heavens. "Strength or death. Prove yourselves—or be nothing."
The giant skeleton answered with a soundless roar, a quake rippling through the earth, and the war pressed on without mercy.
Oliver's crimson gaze narrowed. "Now then… let's end this."
His will surged into the towering bones. He spun his polearm once, then slammed its blade into the ground. Eyes closing, he sharpened his mind to a single image—the vast, crushing palm that had once imprisoned him in his dreamscape. The Buddhist palm.
The giant skeleton mirrored him. Empty sockets closed as if in meditation.
Golden light erupted.
The white bones darkened, sheathed in luminous flesh. Wrinkled earlobes stretched low, prayer beads coiled across massive shoulders, and robes of saffron flame draped its frame. Scripture blazed across its arms, each glyph vibrating like an eternal mantra.
What had once been a walking skeleton now stood as a towering Buddha, radiant yet terrifying, eyes serenely shut.
Oliver's Oni lips curled into a grin as he whispered:
"Imitation… Palm Strike."
The Buddha's colossal hand rose, every motion slow, inevitable—like the tide claiming the shore. Air trembled, mists and flames spiraling. Then, without sound, the palm descended.
The heavens cracked.
The ground split in endless quake, waves of force flattening nests, tearing trees from roots, shattering stone. Macaques screamed, but their cries drowned as the golden hand obliterated everything in its path. Flesh, bone, and spirit reduced to dust, scattered like ash. Ghosts howled, devouring what little remained.
When the light faded, silence reigned.
The clearing was gone, replaced by a vast palm-shaped crater. Ash drifted down like snow, corpses flattened, blood vaporized. None of his enemies survived.
None… except one.
Amid the ruins, a figure staggered upright. Fur blazing, eyes bloodshot, veins burning with radiant yang Qi. It roared, defying annihilation.
Flames intensified, pushing its battered body beyond limits. Qi boiled violently, cultivation bursting past the final barrier of Qi Refinement—
And kept climbing.
The macaque's frame swelled with radiant power, golden fire its second skin. Every breath thundered like a drum. Its aura stretched skyward, unstable yet unmistakable.
A false Foundation realm.
Oliver opened his eyes, crimson light meeting its burning glare. His lips curved in cruel delight.
"Ah… so you survived my palm."
The Buddha's colossal hand lifted, fingers curling into a solemn mudra. Above, lanterns still burned, crimson veins pulsing with hunger. Ash and spirit fire hung heavy in the air.
The battlefield—once a thriving macaque settlement—now lay as a sacred ruin.
And at its heart, hatred unlike any other was about to be born.
The last macaque bared its teeth, muscles blazing with yang fire. It launched forward with a kick that shattered the ground—
Boom!
"Oliver, watch out!" the girls cried, voices sharp with panic. Dust tore across the field as the beast charged, eyes wild, claws gleaming like molten iron.
But Oliver did not flinch. Why fear something beneath him?
He wrenched his polearm free, weapon humming with murderous intent, and met the strike head-on. Steel clashed with burning claws, sparks scattering like falling stars.
"First Yang Beast Technique!" His voice thundered, body erupting in orange glow as he surged into the charge.
Yokai Special.
His eyes narrowed, crimson light flashing. The reason he had chosen the Oni body was not brute strength, nor the intimidation of its demonic visage. No—the truth was sharper.
He wanted to see what happened when yang clashed with yokai essence.
As his Yin-Devouring Yang Beast Technique roared to life, he felt it—the two forces grinding, merging, twisting, erupting outward in waves of chaotic power. Muscles mangled, tendons screaming, yet his grin widened.
The Oni's body burned, veins surging black and orange, crimson horns pulsing with violent light. Flesh warped with each heartbeat, overflowing with unstable energy—part divine yang, part devouring yin, all held together by will.
His new form stood wreathed in fire and shadow, every movement cracking the air.
The macaque howled in fury and dove, claws tearing earth, golden flames flaring brighter.
And the battle began.
The two vanished.
Only shockwaves marked their paths, craters opening as they collided again and again. Each clash was a storm—sparks, fire, and shrieking energy ripping through the night.
Takara shielded her eyes, struggling to track their silhouettes. "I… I can't follow them!" she gasped, sweat trailing her temple.
Kaede's naginatas trembled in her grip, gaze darting. "They're moving faster than lightning…"
From the trees, Sana's eyes tracked, kunoichi senses straining. "No…" she whispered. "Not faster. Beyond it."
Another collision. The Oni's polearm carved arcs of light, deflecting claws that could shear mountains. The macaque's fur blazed, every strike powered by false Foundation qi.
The girls could only watch as the titans fought, each exchange threatening to rip the world apart.