Chapter 45 – The Obsidian Contract
Deep in the core of the Star Dou Forest, where the sunlight is strangled by the canopy, the 30,000-year Void-Stalking Panther reigned supreme. She was a creature of liquid shadow, her fur absorbing all light, her eyes two glowing amethysts of cold intelligence.
But today, she was the one being hunted.
Zhu Zhuqing moved using the Kusa-Step, her silhouette flickering like a glitch in reality. Behind her, Lakan stood in the center of the clearing, his arms crossed. He didn't hide his aura. He let it flare—a concentrated, divine pressure of the Adarna Phoenix.
The Panther emerged from a rift in the shadows, her hackles raised. But as her eyes met Lakan's Silver Sun pupils, she froze. In her primitive but ancient mind, she didn't see a human. She saw the Origin. She saw a Sovereign whose very existence commanded the elements to still.
"You... this presence that i feel," the Panther's voice echoed in their minds, a silky, predatory rasp.
"I am the one who offers you a choice, Kalinaw," Lakan said, using the name he had bestowed upon her. "You can die here and become a fleeting memory. Or you can bond with my Shadow. You will become a Soul Spirit, keeping your consciousness, and follow us to the realm where the Gods reside."
The Panther looked at Zhu Zhuqing, sensing the Jade-Flesh and the widened meridians. She bowed her head, a low purr vibrating in her throat. "To serve the Sun... is better than to rot in the dark. I accept."
Zhu Zhuqing sat cross-legged. The Panther dissolved into a mist of deep violet and black energy, swirling around her. A Black Spirit Ring—darker and more dense than any the Continent had seen—descended.
The absorption was a symphony of pain and power. Normally, a Rank 30 master would have been atomized by a 30,000-year ring. But Lakan stepped forward, placing a hand on Zhuqing's shoulder. He sang the Song of the Adarna: Resilient Harmony, his voice stabilizing her meridians and acting as a conduit for the excess energy.
CRUNCH.
The brush parted. The Shrek group, led by a weary Zhao Wuji, burst into the clearing. They were chasing a Crested Serpent, but they stopped dead at the sight before them.
There sat a masked girl, her body radiating an aura so cold it turned the grass to frost. And around her... a Black Ring was slowly being integrated.
"Impossible!" Tang San gasped, his Purple Demon Eye narrowing. His gaze shifted from the girl to the boy standing over her. He saw the obsidian tribal tattoos snaking down the boy's bare arms, glowing with a faint, silver light.
His heart skipped a beat. Memories of the Holy Soul Village flooded back—the orphan who had awakened with a Rank 20 soul power, the one even his father had watched with a strange, sense of dread.
"Lakan?" Tang San whispered, his voice full of disbelief and a surging, bitter jealousy.
Lakan turned his head slowly, his movement graceful and lazy, reminiscent of a God looking at an ant. He didn't wear a mask; he didn't need to.
"Oh? If it isn't the boy who plays with needles," Lakan said, his voice dripping with playfulness mixed with confident t bite. "And look at this... a collection of 'Monsters' lost in the woods. Tell me, do you need a map, or are you just here to admire a real Spirit Master at work?"
Dai Mubai stepped forward, his dual-colored eyes locked on the masked Zhu Zhuqing. He couldn't see her face, but his instincts—the primal, lustful urges of the White Tiger—flared. Her figure, enhanced by the Jade-Flesh Mutya, was a masterpiece of lethal curves.
"Who is she?" Dai Mubai demanded, his voice gruff with a mix of aggression and unearned possessiveness. "An eleven or twelve-year-old absorbing a 30,000-year ring? That's suicide! Step aside, kid, before that energy explodes and kills us all."
Lakan let out a melodious, mocking laugh. "Step aside? Mongrel, you speak as if your opinion has weight. You, who reeks of cheap wine and cheaper women... you dare to worry about my Shadow?"
Lakan walked toward the now-finished Zhu Zhuqing. She stood up, the Black Ring settling around her feet, her violet eyes shining through the mask.
"Let's go, Zhuqing. We've wasted enough time on the scenery," Lakan said.
As they walked past the Shrek group, Lakan didn't just ignore Dai Mubai; he taunted him. He reached out and wrapped a firm, possessive arm around Zhu Zhuqing's slender waist, his hand sliding down to rest provocatively on the swell of her bottom.
Zhu Zhuqing didn't flinch; she leaned into him, her loyalty absolute.
Dai Mubai felt a sudden, sharp pang in his chest—a sense of existential humiliation. He didn't know why, but seeing that boy touch that girl felt like someone was trampling on his very soul. It was like the "Stolen Connection" of the stars, a ghost of a fiancé-bond he had already betrayed, manifesting as a burning, impotent rage. Then suddenly, he felt like there's a Green Light on top of his head.
"You—!" Dai Mubai tried to call for his martial soul, but Zhao Wuji grabbed his shoulder, his face pale.
"Don't," Zhao Wuji hissed. "That boy... his aura... hes dangerous. If you move, we all die."
Lakan didn't even look back. "Keep your eyes on the dirt where they belong, White Tiger. The Sun and the Shadow have no time for the barking of dogs."
With a shimmer of the Song of the Adarna: Phantasmal Flight, the two vanished into the shadows, leaving Tang San standing in the silence, his fists clenched so hard his nails drew blood.