Standing in the skies proudly with blood dribbling down his face, an arm missing, his breath hoarse, and his whole life flashing before his eyes, Zhào Lí drew Qi from his dantian again, prolonging his life through sheer will, overwhelming energy and silent anger.
"So… This is how you want it to be?... All for what?" Zhào Lí asked in a tired, raspy voice.
His gaze settled on the armies standing in a chaotic formation below. Deep gorges and trenches could be seen on the ravaged battlefield, even from high above, caused undoubtedly by Zhào Lí's powerful spear techniques.
A crooked smile spread across Zhào Lí's face, and he raised his gaze back up to match his foes.
"Jiangyu… Haoran… Lianhua… I treated you like my brothers and sister… yet you betrayed me at the slightest opportunity,"
"Why? Just so you could be granted the Elder title… of your various Sects?"
"Nonsense!" The only female among the three cultivators thundered, her exquisite jade zither vibrating with intensity as her Qi exploded forth.
Her once smooth pearl-like skin was ruined by blotches and holes, a testament to Zhào Lí's wicked spear techniques. Her green and white silk clothing and light inner armour was torn and bloodied, and a large cut across her abdomen could be seen squirting blood.
Even with her Qi, she couldn't seem to stem the bleeding, giving her and her allies more grounds to portray Zhào Lí as a Demonic Art practitioner.
"You brought this upon yourself," she claimed, her face paling with every word. "If you had never dabbled in demonic arts, you wouldn't have achieved such height in cultivation,"
"But now that you have some strength, you believe we wouldn't see through your ploy and stop you?"
Zhào Lí chuckled, perplexed at her blatant lie.
"Hmph… The heart of a fox holds countless schemes, in its smile hides a blade, advancing with strategy at every step…"
"You slutty vixen, I should have known you weren't pure at heart… From the way you looked at the elders during the trials, to how you seduced Haora-
"Enough!" Haoran exclaimed, his long silky silver hair billowing wildly. "My love for Lianhua is genuine—something you can't fathom!"
Jiangyu chipped in with a mocking laughter, his large iron guts rolling as he cackled. "He is probably slighted by Lianhua's rejection of him."
Zhào Lí watched this with an indifferent expression on his face, no emotion whatsoever cracking his visage.
The only arm he had left gripped his spear tighter, and the black polearm vibrated as Qi flowed into it.
"Demonic Arts you say?" Zhào Lí uttered coldly, prompting the trio opposite him to tense. "I did study Demonic Arts so I could counter them if I ever came across a powerful Demon, but making use of it… I never did,"
"All my strength came from decades of cultivation and meditation, however, you don't seem to believe that."
Zhào Lí raised his spear and exhaled, a black miasma escaping from his mouth as his stance, midair, shifted.
"Now, then… Let me show you what Demonic Arts really look like!"
Zhào Lí's body leaned forward, his Qi circulating rapidly as he muttered under his breath:
"Infernal Formation: The Devil's Footsteps,"
With a burst of malevolent Qi, Zhào Lí's feet lit up with dark orange flames, burning the soles of his feet as he blasted forward, appearing before Lianhua and brandishing his spear.
"Chaotic Spiral!" Zhào Lí roared, using one of his most powerful spear techniques.
Jiangyu suddenly appeared before Zhào Lí, his bronze skin reducing the air pressure as he tore a path towards Zhào Lí, swinging his Glaive in one smooth motion.
"Predictable," Zhào Lí muttered, his eyes snapping towards Jiangyu, making the latter shudder.
"Golden Wheel of Severance!" Jiangyu erupted, pushing all fear-driven thoughts to the back of his mind.
He trusted his Golden Halo Arts to protect him. And though he knew it wouldn't completely negate the attack, at least it would lessen the damage—or so he thought.
His Glaive cut across space, an image of a massive golden wheel manifesting behind him.
The visual construct descended with the weight of a mountain, space distorting and gravity becoming more oppressing.
"Blood Lotus: Bloom." Zhào Lí's spear clashed with the Glaive, deflecting it to the side with shocking finesse—considering their size difference.
A mass of blood-red and golden energy exploded outward, pushing back Haoran who aimed to follow up with an attack.
Pockets of air exploded cacophonously, heat and shock waves spreading out in concentric circles, and the armies below feeling the ground quake—those at the front facing the destructive forces head-on and dying like ants.
Jiangyu retreated, swinging his glaive to the side, a frown etched on his face.
The large man wore nothing but a brown changku, leaving his upper body bare. His bronze skin glowed brighter as he channelled his Qi through it, burning resplendently until it looked like molten gold.
Regardless, that didn't stop the bloom of the red lotus.
Jiangyu witnessed his arm dying as dark roots snaked through his veins, red petals emitting a red mist opening up from the pores of his arm, and his arm itself beginning to shrink and lose its vitality.
A terrified expression grew on their faces. But quickly thinking, Haoran appeared before Jiangyu and severed his corrupted arm cleanly from his shoulders.
"Dark tide: River of Madness!"
Zhào Lí couldn't care less about their well-being, his aim was to kill them anyway.
He twirled his spear dexterously, an image of a black flowing river appearing in its path.
"The weight of the ocean!" Zhào Lí voiced out, swinging his spear at Haoran.
"Whispering Blade Art: Ghostly Dance!"
Haoran blurred in Zhào Lí's vision, his long silver hair glowing ethereally. And Zhào Lí felt the Tang Dao pierce his abdomen, drawing blood.
Zhào Lí coughed up a mouthful of blackened blood, and he felt his energy weaken.
His spear struck down at the same moment the sword pierced his abdomen, but Haoran was gone—like a phantom.
Relentless, Zhào Lí's spear faded out of view, and by the time it reappeared, a tide of dark Qi was splitting the skies, falling towards the army below.
"The cold of the sea!"
The dark river appeared again, rushing down like a crushing waterfall and collapsing on the army voraciously.
Lianhua gritted her teeth and strung her zither, playing a single chord.
Spiritual energy gathered with deadly momentum and shot after the dark river, catching up with it in no time and spiralling around it.
It tightened and reigned it in, but the attack was more than just physical. It slipped through, phasing through the spiritual leash as though it never existed.
"Impossible!" Lianhua gasped.
The dark river reached the scrambling army, but it was already too late.
The river swept through their ranks undisturbed, doing no physical harm, whatsoever, to them. However, by the time the river passed through them all… They began to drop—one by one—their eyes losing focus as their souls froze over and shattered.
"One Spear to sever the heavens," Zhào Lí's voice echoed under the shocked gaze of Lianhua, blocking Jiangyu's Glaive strike.
"Focus Lianhua!"
Haoran weaved behind Zhào Lí and slashed at his back, drawing more black blood. Lianhua seemed to snap out of her shock a second later and strung her zither again.
Waves of sound assaulted Zhào Lí sense, and he failed to deflect the next strike from Jiangyu.
A series of coordinated attacks later, and Zhào Lí was panting while on his knees, his lungs in dire need of oxygen, his body a mess.
He was totally unrecognisable now, his eyes having been destroyed by a sword strike to it, corporeal chains formed from condensed spiritual energy tightening around him, and his Qi depleted completely.
"Any last words?" Haoran asked, he, also, breathing heavily.
A cornered beast was the most fiercest, and Zhào Lí—forced to use Demonic Arts—was a menace. He had wounded them grievously, but they had won in the end.
Now, towering over Zhào Lí, his spear in his hands, he raised it up, ready to deal the final blow when Zhào Lí spoke:
"Demonic Art: Devouring Samsara…" Then he raised his face to the skies, showing his desecrated face to Haoran, Lianhua and Jiangyu.
"I… will return."