The Pact Fulfilled
The Ancestral Dragon's claws met shadow-steel with twin, definitive cracks. For the Netherworld Wolf King on Yao Xuan's right, the outcome was immediate and brutal. Its own claws, sharp enough to rend stone, splintered against the supreme hardness of the transformed dragon claw. Yao Xuan's strike did not stop. It drove forward, past the shattered defenses, and found the soft, vulnerable expanse of the beast's lower abdomen.
The ancient adage held true: even the fiercest wolf had a waist of tofu. Under the Sky-Rending Claw, layered with the focused power of the Ancestral Dragon's Right Claw transformation, fur, muscle, and viscera offered no more resistance than wet parchment. A ruinous force pulped the internal organs within. The light in the wolf king's crimson eyes guttered out instantly, its massive form slumping into a heap of dissipating shadow.
The wolf king on the left fared marginally better, meeting Yao Xuan's untransformed left claw. Still, the impact was catastrophic. It was hurled backward, its claws webbed with fractures, a pained whimper escaping its throat. One king dead, one crippled, in the space of a heartbeat.
In the observation room, the swift reversal of fortune drew sharp breaths. Long Hengxu's eyes were alight with professional fascination. Wu Changkong allowed a grim nod of satisfaction. His students weren't just surviving; they were mastering the chaos.
Yet, in that moment of triumph over the leaders, the pack's lesser members seized their chance. Three hundred-year Netherwolves, emboldened by proximity and frenzy, slipped through the broken perimeter. Their claws, gleaming with malicious intent, scraped across Yao Xuan's scaled back and flank as he dealt with the kings.
"Yao Xuan!" Gu Yue's cry was sharp with a worry that transcended analysis. She was nearly spent, soul power scraping the bottom of her reserves. She could only muster faint, disruptive whirlwinds that buffeted the wolves but could not halt them.
The claws connected. There was a sound like knives dragged over polished granite.
But they did not bite. They scraped, leaving faint, hairline white scores on the luminous dragon scales before sliding off impotently. The combined fortifications of his enhanced Ancestral Dragon bloodline, the physical possession, and the mighty Ancestral Dragon Overlord Body had rendered his defense near-impenetrable to such attacks. Only the focused might of a millennium beast could hope to pierce it now.
A collective exhale of relief sounded from the observers. Gu Yue's clenched fists slowly relaxed, her silver eyes wide with a dawning realization of just how formidable his protection truly was.
"Stay close, I'm unharmed," Yao Xuan called over his shoulder, his voice a steady anchor in the din. Then his focus returned to the immediate threat. His gaze swept over the wolves that had dared to strike him. "Your turn."
He moved among them like a golden scythe. His claws were flashes of inevitable death. SHUNK. THUD. Each movement was economical, precise. A wolf leaped, only to have its throat torn out mid-air. Another lunged low, meeting a claw that pierced its skull. He was not fighting; he was delivering a verdict. The spiritual residue of the fallen wolves painted the earthen fort in gruesome, fading patterns.
Then, a change. The wounded, remaining Netherworld Wolf King lifted its muzzle and let out a long, haunting, and utterly despairing howl—a sound that spoke of surrender, of a bargain.
At its signal, the surviving pack members, their bloodlust broken by the slaughter of their kin and the indomitable figure before them, disengaged. They melted back into the forest shadows from whence they came, vanishing with a speed born of pure terror.
Only the injured king remained. It did not flee. Instead, it limped toward Yao Xuan, its head lowered, not in attack, but in submission. Its intelligent, blood-red eyes held no more malice, only a profound, weary acceptance. It stood before him, a sovereign offering its life for the retreat of its people.
Yao Xuan understood. In the brutal calculus of the wild, this was honor. "You choose sacrifice for your pack," he said quietly, the ferocity leaving his eyes. "Then I will grant it a warrior's end."
The wolf king seemed to sag in relief. It laid its head upon the ground, closing its eyes.
Yao Xuan's claw descended one final time—a swift, merciful blow to the crown of its skull. There was a soft crunch, and the massive wolf stilled, its form beginning to dissolve into streams of dark spiritual energy.
Silence, profound and sudden, reclaimed the fortified clearing. The stench of ozone, ice, and fading shadow slowly cleared.
Warm currents of spiritual power flowed into him, a substantial reward for the harrowing siege. A smaller portion drifted to Gu Yue, acknowledging her crucial role.
He let the transformations fall away. The scales receded, the brilliant light dimmed, leaving him standing amidst the evidence of their struggle, slightly breathless but unbroken. He turned to Gu Yue.
"It's over," he said, his voice returning to its normal timbre, softened with concern as he saw her pallor. "But the scent will attract others. We should return."
She nodded, looking around at their makeshift, battered fortress. The adrenaline was fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake. "Yes. I have… very little left." Her admission was honest, stripped of her usual poised front.
Then she stepped forward. It was not a dramatic move, but a simple, heartfelt one. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck in a brief, tight embrace, burying her face against his shoulder for a mere second. It was an impulse born from relief, from the shared intensity of survival, from Na'er's boundless trust and Gu Yue's own shaken composure. "Thank you, Yao Xuan," she murmured, her voice muffled against his jacket. "You were… immovable."
The contact was warm, startling in its sincerity. Yao Xuan hesitated only a moment before gently closing his arms around her waist in a reassuring, steadying hold. He could feel the slight tremble of fatigue in her frame. He smelled not perfume, but the clean scent of ozone from her spells and the faint, unique silver-cool fragrance that was purely her. "We did it together," he corrected softly, his voice a quiet rumble near her ear. "Your control shaped the entire battle. You were brilliant."
Gu Yue pulled back, her silver eyes meeting his. A faint, real blush colored her cheeks, not from coquetry, but from the vulnerability of the gesture and the warmth of his praise. The sovereign was cataloging the tactical data, but the girl was simply… happy. And safe. "Shall we go back, then?" she asked, her voice regaining some of its usual melody, now laced with a shy warmth.
"Together," he agreed.
They pressed the activation buttons on their bracelets simultaneously. The scarred forest, the earthen walls, the fading corpses—all dissolved into swirls of light. The overwhelming sensory input of the simulation faded, replaced by the sterile, quiet hum of the Spirit Pagoda and the soft confines of their opening pods.
Back in the real world, the experience lingered—not as blood or fear, but as the solidified memory of a promise kept, a trust deepened, and a bond tempered in the fires of a shared trial. The journey in the Spirit Ascension Platform was over, but the resonance of it, quiet and profound, traveled with them as they stepped back into the light.