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Ghost Douluo stood frozen like stone.
Right before his eyes, his lifelong friend — the man who always carried a trace of charm and arrogance — was turning pale at a terrifying speed.
Large droplets of sweat rolled off Yue Guan's chin, splashing onto the ground and blooming into dark, damp spots.
Ghost Douluo's Adam's apple bobbed violently.
His hand trembled as he reached toward his brother.
"Yue Guan…"
He wanted to say stop.
He wanted to say don't waste your origin for this.
He wanted to say we can find another way to complete senior's mission.
But—
Yue Guan spoke first, without turning around.
He simply continued channeling his origin essence, weaving pure golden life into the Blue Silver Emperor.
A long moment passed before he finally turned his head.
His pale face held no fear.
Only unshakable determination.
His long phoenix eyes were clear.
Bright.
And full of resolve.
Just one glance.
Ghost Douluo swallowed all the words stuck in his throat.
He understood.
He understood everything.
Absolute loyalty to senior's mission.
The instinctive compassion of a plant-type Spirit Master toward another divine plant.
And deeper still—
a resolve that could not be shaken or dissuaded.
Ghost Douluo's outstretched hand clenched uselessly, then fell to his side.
His chest heaved.
His eyes reddened.
At last, gritting his teeth, he forced out a threat so childish it hurt—
"If you dare die before me…
I'll drink every last drop of the wine you've been brewing these past decades!"
The threat was childish.
But the grief in it made even the air tremble.
Yue Guan's lips curled into a weak but brilliant smile.
Gone was the usual femininity.
The smile was pure, warm — dazzling like sunlight.
"Old Ghost," he whispered,
"I knew you'd understand."
And with that, he turned back.
Golden light erupted behind him.
His qi rong tong tian chrysanthemum blossomed magnificently, divine radiance flooding the hillside.
He poured everything—origin, life, essence—into the dying plant.
But reality was cruel.
He could stave off death…
but he could not restore a heart that wanted to die.
The Blue Silver Emperor's body endured.
But its spirit did not stir.
Between life and death, it remained suspended — unmoving, unresponsive.
Yue Guan's complexion grew deathly white.
His body trembled.
Ghost Douluo could no longer restrain the surge of grief and rage twisting his insides.
His eyes snapped toward Tang Hao.
That wretch.
Everything—
everything—
was because of him.
If not for him burying Ah Yin in a living grave…
If not for his selfishness and hypocrisy crushing her final hope…
If not for him—
They should have already been back at Feng Ran Pavilion.
Sharing a drink.
Receiving praise from senior.
Laughing with pride.
Instead—
Yue Guan was dying.
And he could do nothing.
"TANG HAAAAO!!!"
Ghost Douluo roared like a beast.
He shot forward like black lightning.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
No Spirit power.
No techniques.
Only pure, primal violence.
A kick to the chest.
A kick to the ribs.
A kick to the face.
Every blow carried hatred deep enough to stain the heavens.
Tang Hao could not fight back.
He could only cough blood, groan, and roll helplessly like a battered sack.
No one intervened.
No one even breathed too loudly.
Everyone knew the relationship between Yue Guan and Ghost Douluo.
It was deeper than brotherhood—
they were halves of each other's lives.
Watching Yue Guan fade, helplessly, would break any man.
Let alone a man like Ghost Douluo.
If he snapped and killed Tang Hao right now—
they would all look away and pretend not to see.
Finally, Ghost Douluo stopped kicking.
He grabbed Tang Hao by the collar, lifting his bloody face into the air.
His other hand rose—
Dark ghost energy swirling, heavy with death.
Enough power to erase Tang Hao's existence in a single blow.
The palm hovered less than an inch from Tang Hao's forehead.
Tang Hao coughed blood and sneered, twisted and smug even in agony.
"Cough… what now?"
"You kick like a mad dog, but when it's time to kill—
you hesitate?"
He spat blood and mockery together.
"Spirit Hall… nothing but loud trash who don't dare finish the job…"
That was it.
The last straw.
Ghost Douluo's remaining sanity shattered.
But—
He didn't slam the killing palm.
Instead—
He grabbed Tang Hao's right arm, the one charred by Spirit Kite Douluo's flames.
And—
RIP—!!!
A horrifying tear echoed through the mountain.
Ghost Douluo tore Tang Hao's entire right arm off with sheer brute force.
"AAAAHHHHHHH—!!!"
Tang Hao's scream was so shrill it didn't sound human.
Ghost Douluo tossed the severed limb aside like a filthy rag.
Then he slammed Tang Hao's body into the ground, pinning him with one knee.
"The senior was right."
Ghost Douluo's voice was cold enough to freeze the soul.
"For something as worthless as you—"
"To die quickly would be a mercy far beyond what you deserve."
"You should drown in regret.
Suffocate in pain.
Rot in despair forever."
Tang Hao lay bleeding, trembling, staring at Yue Guan who was sacrificing himself.
His lips curled into a broken, tragic smile.
He laughed.
A laugh uglier than crying.
"Heh… heh heh…"
"It's useless."
His voice crackled like torn metal.
"Just him… a mere Chrysanthemum Douluo… thinks he can bring Ah Yin back?"
"He can't."
Tang Hao wasn't stupid.
He understood exactly why Ah Yin was dying.
Her injuries weren't the reason.
Her body wasn't the reason.
It was because she had seen—
truly seen—
his cowardice.
His guilt.
His selfishness.
His desire to escape responsibility.
Her heart had died.
In that state, unless she changed her own will—
no amount of divine essence could save her.
Chrysanthemum Douluo's sacrifice was futile.
And Tang Hao…
finally felt the "release" he had always sought in his guilt.
But—
As he uttered that cold, all-knowing whisper…
Ghost Douluo finally looked up.
His voice was low.
Dangerous.
A chilling smile slowly spread across his face.
"Oh? Tang Hao… is that what you believe?"
"Heh… heh heh…"
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