Chapter 16 – The Blood and the Resin
The air in the Phoenix Valley was static, humming with a frequency that made the hair on Shui Bing'er's arms stand up. Lakan didn't start the fire immediately. Instead, he spent the first day clearing a circular space in the shadow of the Golden Blue Devil Bird's ribcage.
He used his Seven-Tone Chaos energy to vibrate the sand, clearing it until the bedrock was exposed. Then, using a mixture of crushed Almáciga resin and Spirit-Ironwood ash, he drew a massive Mandala on the ground. At the cardinal points, he didn't use stones; he used the Baybayin characters for Apoy (Fire), Hangin (Wind), Lupa (Earth), and Tubig (Water).
"This is the 'Kalasag of the Soul'," Lakan thought, his face unusually grim. "In my past life, we said a blade without a soul is just a heavy stick. Here, where the laws of Douluo and the Ancient Traditions meet, a blade without an Anito is a liability."
Lakan knelt at the center. He opened his traveling pack and produced the Atang offerings: rare medicinal herbs from the Spirit Hall greenhouses, a bottle of fermented honey-wine, and a bowl of white rice grown in high-altitude soul-soil.
Atang is a traditional food offering ritual primarily practiced by his people to honor the dead and appease spirits. It serves as a symbolic bridge between the living and the deceased, rooted in the belief that souls still require sustenance or attention as they transition to the afterlife.
"Bing'er," Lakan called out softly. "I need you to maintain a 'Frost Perimeter.' Don't let the heat of the valley reach this circle. The spirits need a neutral ground to manifest."
Shui Bing'er nodded, her expression focused. She summoned her Ice Phoenix, her third soul ring (which she had recently acquired before her capture) glowing with a soft cerulean light. A veil of frost settled around the mandala.
Lakan took his Sacrificial Kris. The wavy blade gleamed in the twilight. He didn't cut himself deeply—just a precise nick on his palm. He let the blood drip into the honey-wine, then poured the mixture over the fossilized beak of the Golden Blue Devil Bird.
"Pagpupugay sa mga Ninuno (Salute to the Ancestors)," Lakan chanted. His voice didn't sound like a child's; it carried the resonance of the Adarna's Sovereign Suppression.
The fossils began to glow. A deep, thrumming vibration shook the valley. Ling Yue gripped her spear, her eyes scanning the horizon. She could feel it—the "God-Level" aura of the Adarna was acting like a beacon, commanding the spirits of the valley to pay attention.
"The legends were true," Lakan analyzed, his mind racing. "This valley isn't just a grave. I can feel life-beats deep beneath the soil—cool, rhythmic, like a heart in stasis. There are eggs here. Phoenixes undergoing Nirvana, waiting for an era where the air is pure enough for them to hatch. That's why they appear in the later ages of the continent. I'm standing in the womb of the heavens."
Lakan placed the two slabs of Spirit-Ironwood he had prepared onto the altar. He began to chant the Baybayin scriptures for "Awakening."
Suddenly, a screech ripped through the air—not from the fossils, but from the dark peaks at the edge of the valley. A massive, shadowy silhouette with multiple heads began to stir. The Corrupted Ten-Headed Phoenix had sensed the "food" of the ritual.
"It's coming," Ling Yue warned, her Rank 95 power erupting to shield them. "Lakan, it's too strong! The resentment in its heads is overwhelming!"
"I know!" Lakan shouted over the rising wind. He didn't look back. He grabbed the fossilized primary feathers of the Silver Blue Devil Bird and began to bind them to the Ironwood using the glowing resin. "I need time! Bing'er, use your Ice Phoenix to disrupt its heat! Sister Ling Yue, don't kill it—just push it back! My Adarna will suppress its bloodline, but it won't stop a physical strike!"
Lakan stood up, his Batok tattoos flaring with a violent, prismatic radiance. He released the full weight of the Ibong Adarna's aura.
The Ten-Headed Phoenix slowed. Its heads hissed in confusion. In the hierarchy of birds, the Adarna was the "High King." Even a corrupted god-beast felt the instinctual urge to bow. It was like a common soldier being ordered to halt by a King.
"I am the First and the Last Tone!" Lakan roared, his voice amplified by the valley's natural acoustics. "Witness the First Draw!"
He plunged the Kris into the cooling resin of the first Kampilan. The soul of the Golden Blue Devil Bird shrieked and dove into the blade, turning the dark wood into a shimmering, sun-gold steel.
As the first blade, Araw, was born, Lakan saw something out of the corner of his eye. Near one of the "Nirvana Eggs," a small, translucent figure was watching them. It wasn't a beast. It looked like a young woman in ancient, feather-woven robes—a Phoenix Priestess remnant.
She didn't look at the monster. She looked at Lakan's mandala. She pointed toward the second blade, Buan, and whispered a word that Lakan felt in his very marrow:
"Sumpa (The Vow)."