"We've… been separated."
He Caitou spoke in a low, grave tone.
Just then, the clatter of bones grated from the alley mouth. Two Voidranger: Reavers and Voidranger: Eliminator crept forward.
Their black eyes fixed on the pair in the alley. Inhuman screeches rasped from their throats—they had clearly found new prey.
Twin lances of searing fire shot from Karna's eyes, like two red-hot spears, spanning a hundred meters in an instant.
Where the fire passed, the air itself warped. The Voidranger: Reavers' heads burst apart into drifting black particles.
The Voidranger: Eliminator, attempting to charge a dark-matter cannon, disintegrated in the blaze.
It was all clean and swift—too quick for a full scream.
"Master, do you need me to find the others, or support the front?"
Karna drew back his gaze, looking to He Caitou. The flames in his eyes slowly receded.
He could clearly sense intense energy clashes in the distance. The main battle was still raging.
He Caitou fell silent for a moment, fingers unconsciously clenching his coat hem until his knuckles went white.
From outside came the civilians' cries interwoven with the voidsoldiers' screeches. Sounds that should have made him anxious now pricked at an old, scarred wound.
"No."
He suddenly lifted his head. The confusion in his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a near-obsessive resolve.
His gaze bored past layered rooftops, locking on the brightly lit heart of Mingdu—the direction of the imperial palace.
"We're going to the palace."
As he spoke, a bone-deep chill spread from him—the hatred suppressed for more than ten years iced over the air like ten-thousand-year frost.
Karna did not hesitate. He simply inclined his head and stood quietly at He Caitou's side, the most faithful guardian.
Whatever his Master decided, he would obey unconditionally. That was the fate of a Servant—and the promise of their pact.
He Caitou drew a deep breath and pressed a hand to the soul tool storage pouch at his waist.
Clicks and whirs sounded in succession. One by one, intricate soul tools flew from the pouch, auto-assembling onto him. Dark iron armor covered him, runes glowing a dim blue. A cannon on his left shoulder lifted; blade-fins snapped from the right gauntlet. The booster on his back vented a faint white plume.
In just a few breaths, he was armed to the teeth—like a war engine primed to unleash.
Alone, even as a Soul Emperor and seventh-rank soul engineer, he would never dare set foot in the palace—the pinnacle of Sun–Moon imperial power.
But now, Karna—the son of the Sun God—stood at his side. This absolute strength gave his long-banked fires of vengeance an outlet at last.
Memories buried deep burst forth like a breached flood.
In a damp, airless chamber, the air was so thin it suffocated.
His mother had hidden him in a secret room. He watched, eyes open wide, as his mother and sisters were slain, executed one by one.
Even to death, neither his mother nor his sisters betrayed him. They shielded him with their lives.
Those images were branded on his soul. Every recollection flayed his heart.
He Caitou trembled—not in fear, but from extremities of rage and hatred.
He clenched his teeth until the mouth filled with blood, barely suppressing a choke in his throat.
Outside, Mingdu's streets had become a living hell.
Civilians' wails and pleas rose in waves as they were trampled by the antimatter legion.
A cold curve tugged at He Caitou's lips. A dark, unspeakable pleasure surged within—retribution, perhaps. The Sun–Moon Empire's blood debt repaid in the most brutal way.
As for the civilians struggling through the calamity… there was no pity in his eyes, only frozen indifference.
In his view, they had enjoyed prosperity plundered by the current imperial house, turned a blind eye to the massacre back then, even clapped in approval. They were unworthy of salvation.
If not for Shrek Academy's righteous reputation and the need to maintain surface harmony, he would not have bothered with even feigned kindness.
"Let's go, Karna."
His voice was ice-cold. The thrusters blasted a fiery jet, carrying him and Karna like a black lightning bolt toward the palace—that symbol of all his pain and hatred.
Wind at the alley mouth lifted bloody grime from the ground, leaving two resolute silhouettes. They merged with the distant glow of the main battlefield, heralding a coming storm—one belonging to a man of vengeance.
…
"Master, look out!"
Siegfried's voice cracked like a blade wind. He flashed forward, the magic sword Balmung sweeping in a cross-cut.
The blade, bearing both holy sword and demonic sword attributes, now shone with sacred silver light—fully in holy sword mode.
Its edge met a Reaver's claw, a shrill metal scream ringing out as the claw capable of rending steel was shattered to powder.
"Huabin, we're surrounded!"
Zhu Lu's voice trembled with panic. She swung her twin claws, barely forcing back two voidsoldiers, while her eye caught a Voidranger: Tramplers over ten meters tall slowly turning. Its cold gaze locked onto them.
If not for Siegfried's overwhelming combat power taking most of the pressure, she and Dai Huabin might already have fallen.
Zhu Lu wasn't a Master—just a Shrek tournament participant tagging along.
She'd thought this trip to Mingdu would be a heated event, not a plunge into a nightmare slaughter.
The antimatter legion's raid came without warning; Mingdu became a battlefield in an instant.
Dai Huabin clenched his fist, veins bulging at his temple. He knew full well how perilous things were.
Xu Tianran was vicious beyond measure. This seemingly out-of-control massacre was a carefully planned hunt.
The tournament was bait to gather the continent's elites. If the younger generation of the three nations and the mainstays of various factions died here, the Sun–Moon Empire's path to unifying the continent would be clear.
Like Nan Shuishui of the Earth Dragon Sect, Du Busi of the Body Sect, and Shrek's Xuan Zi—if they all perished in Mingdu, none would remain to check the Empire's iron hoof in the future.
But Xu Tianran's madness defied imagination. He would bury over ten million Mingdu civilians with them—perhaps even the entire city. That resolve sent chills down spines.
Tap… tap… tap…
Measured footsteps sounded behind them, unnaturally distinct amid the chaos.
A figure slowly stepped from the shadows and blocked Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu's path.
"Long time no see, Dai Huabin."
Huo Yuhao's voice was lazy, yet carried a biting chill.
His blood-colored pupils fixed on Dai Huabin. A crooked, wicked smile tugged at his lips, as if relishing a trapped prey's fear.
"Huo Yuhao?!"
Dai Huabin's pupils shrank. He reflexively stepped back half a pace.
Enemies meeting was always explosive—more so at the edge of life and death.
The Huo Yuhao before him was a stranger to the quiet boy in his memory—blood-red eyes roiling with murderous frenzy, an aura cold and uncanny, like a Asura returned from hell.
"So you're a Master too."
Huo Yuhao's eyes flicked over Siegfried, his tone openly derisive. "But trash like you… deserves a Servant?"
Memories of humiliation at the White Tiger Duke's estate surged up like a tide.
Dai Huabin's fists and kicks, servants' mocking jeers, and his mother coughing blood in his arms—each scene was a red-hot brand seared into his soul.
The blood in Huo Yuhao's eyes deepened. His face twisted with suppressed hatred; even his breathing grew rough.
"Master, his hostility is extreme."
Siegfried stepped in front of Dai Huabin, holy sword light flaring brighter.
He didn't know the details of their grudge, but the near-tangible killing intent put him instantly on guard.
"Kill him! Siegfried!" Dai Huabin barked, a vicious glint in his eye.
He had long wanted Huo Yuhao dead. His hired killers had failed, and he'd been punished by the Academy for it. Resentment had simmered ever since.
Now Shrek had disowned Huo Yuhao. Amid this chaos, killing him would be like crushing an ant. No one would ask questions.
Dusk-colored sword-qi burst forth like a lightning bolt tearing the dark, slashing for Huo Yuhao's face.
Huo Yuhao twisted instinctively, but pain flared in his left arm. Blood sprayed—his entire left arm was severed at the shoulder, thudding to the ground in a splash of red.
Surprise flashed in Siegfried's eyes—Huo Yuhao's reaction had exceeded his expectations. But the next moment, dusk-light coiled the holy sword again—he would not hold back.
What happened next made Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu gasp.
Huo Yuhao glanced at the severed arm without pain on his face. He reached out with his right hand, picked up the arm, and pressed it to the wound.
An eerie scene unfolded—the instant flesh met flesh, faint red light shimmered. Blood and meat wriggled and fused like living things. In a few breaths, the arm was whole again without even a scar.
"How… how is that possible?" Zhu Lu cried, disbelief writ large.
Not even a Titled Douluo could heal like that. It was beyond human—eerily similar to the Borisin werewolves!
"Careful, Master. He's like those werewolves!"
Siegfried's eyes hardened. Even more immense dusk-light gathered on his blade—this time, he would show no mercy.
"How long do you plan on just watching?"
Huo Yuhao seemed unconcerned by Siegfried's strike. He simply called out lightly over his shoulder.
"My apologies."
With a cool female voice, a storm of cherry blossoms burst into bloom. Pink-white petals surged like a tide, their fragrance delightful, their hidden edge deadly.
A fox-eared, cherry-haired girl appeared from thin air, a cherry-hued katana in hand, stepping precisely between Huo Yuhao and the blow.
Clang—!
The spirit blade Sakura Fubuki met the holy sword Balmung head-on. Sword-qi and blade-lights braided into a raging storm, shredding the voidsoldiers nearby.
Shockwaves rippled out. The ground cracked in a spiderweb. Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu staggered back, nearly losing their footing.
Yae Sakura frowned slightly, full of helplessness.
She hadn't wanted to be involved, much less help someone like Huo Yuhao. But her pact with Tang Ya had bound their fates—if Huo Yuhao died here, Tang Ya would likely die as well, and she, as a Servant, would dissipate in turn.
She could not vanish yet.
She hadn't seen the Grail. She hadn't confirmed whether it could realize her wish. She wanted to see Kallen again—even once, even as a fleeting illusion—worth any price.
"A Servant?!"
Siegfried's eyes sharpened. Green lightning wrapped his body. His grip tightened; the holy sword blazed brighter, forcing Sakura Fubuki into a slight bend.
A red light flickered in Yae Sakura's eyes. Cherry aura wreathed her. Her blade thrummed and surged in strength.
Their weapons clashed in midair, each exchange erupting with violent energies. Space warped around them. Even the distant Voidranger: Tramplers paused under the pressure.
Huo Yuhao stood behind Yae Sakura, watching the fierce duel, a deeper, stranger smile on his lips.
He turned slowly, looking at a figure emerging in the shadows. The Command Seals on Tang Ya's hand glowed with a demonic red. That was his true trump card.
Otherwise, why would he show himself, knowing Dai Huabin had a Servant?
The answer was simple—Yae Sakura was already one of his pieces.
As long as Tang Ya remained firmly in the Holy Spirit Sect's grasp, Yae Sakura could not escape the contract's shackles. No matter how unwilling she was, even if she held back in spirit, she had to obey.
Leaving such a top-tier Servant's power idle would be truly foolish.
Like now—Hoolay had gone to trouble Jing Yuan, and Yae Sakura was the perfect piece to stall Siegfried.
Huo Yuhao's calculus was sharp. He never planned for Yae Sakura to crush the dragon-slayer. It was enough for her to delay him—long enough for Huo Yuhao to settle Dai Huabin.