Chapter 218: The Dust Settles, Yan Shaozhe's Despair
The biting cold in the square reached an absolute zenith the moment the Snow Empress materialized.
Citizens who had yet to flee the execution grounds found themselves frozen in a state of sheer, unadulterated bewilderment. Their breaths plumed into white mist as they stared at the pristine, white-clad figure standing protectively before Du Busi. Their minds ground to a halt, entirely unable to process the sheer absurdity of the scene unfolding before them.
Yan Shaozhe, the esteemed Dean of Shrek Academy, had just been spared from death by a notorious syndicate of Evil Soul Masters. And now, a mysterious woman radiating an aura of ultimate ice had descended from the heavens to block the leader of those very same Evil Soul Masters—all to save Du Busi, the man the public had been led to believe was a mortal enemy of justice.
It was a sequence of events that violently shredded the established logic of the continent's major factions. No one could articulate the 'why', nor did anyone possess the courage to probe deeper. The oppressive majesty radiating from the woman in white eclipsed the boundaries of mortal comprehension.
Long Xiaoyao, the Dark Sacred Dragon, did not waste his attention on the trembling masses below. He tilted his head a fraction of an inch. His usually murky eyes sharpened, gleaming with an unnatural, piercing light that cut straight through the lingering dust of the ruined Execution Platform. His gaze bypassed the imposing figure of the Snow Empress and locked squarely onto the youth standing quietly beside Du Busi—Liu Yuan.
As a Limit Douluo who had weathered centuries of bloodshed, Long Xiaoyao's sensitivity to the ebb and flow of soul power bordered on the divine. In that split second when the Snow Empress had manifested, he had felt it. That catastrophic surge of absolute zero had not materialized from the void. It had erupted directly from within the body of that unassuming youth.
This boy is actually harboring such an entity within him?
A faint twitch tugged at the corner of Long Xiaoyao's mouth. His weathered features shifted into a complex mask of intense scrutiny and deep-seated vigilance. This youth named Liu Yuan was proving to be infinitely more dangerous than he had initially assumed.
Beside him, Ye Xishui, the Death God Douluo, was entirely consumed by a different tempest of emotion.
The instant her devastating strike was casually swatted away by the Snow Empress, a violent, unhinged inferno ignited within her crimson eyes. She felt no fear toward the Snow Empress's overwhelming strength. Instead, the sheer indignity of being blocked caused the fragile threads of her rationality to snap.
The malevolent crimson energy churning around her physical form destabilized, whipping into a frenzied vortex. Beside her, the Blood Soul Demonic Puppet thrashed, emitting ear-piercing shrieks that threatened to rupture the eardrums of anyone nearby.
She wanted blood. Her fingers twitched, aching to hoist the Death God Tower once more and obliterate that infuriatingly pristine white figure from the face of the earth.
Yet, just as the dark metallic luster of the Death God Tower began to hum with lethal intent, a wizened hand clamped firmly over her wrist.
Long Xiaoyao turned to her, his grip unyielding. He shook his head by a fraction, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative rumble. "Xishui. That is enough."
Ye Xishui snapped her head toward him. The blood-red light spilling from her eyes practically bled into the air. "You dare stop me?" she hissed, her voice dropping to a glacial whisper. "The Ice Sky Snow Lady may be powerful, but I do not fear her!"
"This is not a matter of mere combat power," Long Xiaoyao countered, his tone laced with an unquestionable grimness. "Look around you. This is the capital of the Heavenly Soul Empire. Yes, we are Limit Douluos, but if we lock ourselves into a life-and-death struggle here, we will inevitably be swarmed by the empire's hidden forces the moment we exhaust ourselves."
He paused, his gaze flickering back to the silent, imposing figure of the Snow Empress. ", her strength is not to be trifled with. If we push her into a corner and force a death match, even with the two of us joining hands, the price we pay will be catastrophic."
Long Xiaoyao shifted his attention toward the distant horizon. Several massive, high-speed auras were already tearing through the sky toward their location. The Heavenly Soul Empire's elite combatants had finally reacted to the shockwaves of their clash.
"Our objective was Ma Xiaotao," he reminded her coldly. "She is in our hands. There is no strategic value in bleeding ourselves dry over a grudge. We leave. Now."
Ye Xishui stared daggers at the Snow Empress. Her chest heaved, but under Long Xiaoyao's pragmatic reasoning, the violent tempest in her eyes began to cool, retreating behind a veil of cold calculation.
Taking a slow, ragged breath, she severed her soul power connection to the Death God Tower, letting the terrifying artifact vanish into her storage ring.
"Consider her lucky," Ye Xishui sneered, her voice dripping with venom. She turned her back on the ruined platform, her gaze shifting to the cloaked figures of the Holy Spirit Cult who had secured their prize.
Ma Xiaotao was thoroughly subdued. Flanked by several men in black, her vibrant crimson hair hung limp. Her eyes were entirely vacant, devoid of the fiery spirit that once defined her. She moved like a hollow shell, a marionette stripped of its soul, offering not a single twitch of resistance.
Liu Yuan stood rooted to the cracked stone of the platform, his eyes tracking their every movement. His arms hung stiffly at his sides, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned a stark, bone-white.
A bitter wave of frustration churned in his chest. He knew the grim reality of the situation. If he allowed them to walk away with Ma Xiaotao today, every ounce of the Body Sect's careful planning—and the grievous, life-threatening injuries Du Busi had just endured—would be rendered utterly meaningless.
But logic, cold and unforgiving, anchored him in place. With his current level of cultivation, throwing himself at two Limit Douluos was tantamount to suicide. Merely surviving the aftershocks of their clash had required every trump card he possessed.
He could only watch in silence as the dark-clad figures dragged Ma Xiaotao away, their silhouettes blurring and dissolving into the deep shadows of the imperial capital's winding streets.
Holy Spirit Cult, Liu Yuan's inner voice was a glacial promise. I will carve today's debt into my bones.
Without sparing another glance at the devastation they had wrought, Ye Xishui and Long Xiaoyao transformed into two blinding streaks of light—one a sickening blood-red, the other a desolate gray—and shot into the horizon, vanishing alongside their subordinates.
The suffocating pressure that had locked the Execution Platform in a vice grip evaporated in an instant.
The square plunged back into a deathly, ringing silence.
Amidst the rubble, Yan Shaozhe forced himself upright, his trembling form heavily supported by the remaining Shrek Academy Elders. Blood continued to stream from his mangled left shoulder, soaking his robes and sending agonizing spikes of pain through his nervous system with every ragged breath he took.
He stared blankly at the empty street where the Evil Soul Masters had disappeared. The arrogant satisfaction that had previously danced in his eyes was completely extinguished, replaced by a hollow, endless exhaustion.
He had lost.
It wasn't just a tactical defeat; it was an absolute, humiliating catastrophe.
He had orchestrated this public spectacle to clear Ma Xiaotao's name, to proudly demonstrate Shrek Academy's unwavering stance against evil before the eyes of the entire world.
And what was the result?
Ma Xiaotao was now the captive prize of the continent's most vile syndicate. And he, Yan Shaozhe, the illustrious Dean of Shrek's Martial Soul Department, had only survived the ordeal because those very same Evil Soul Masters had intervened.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head to look at the surviving citizens gathered at the edges of the square.
He couldn't hold their gaze. He saw the way they looked at him. The reverence and awe that usually greeted the green uniforms of Shrek were gone. In their place was a chilling mixture of deep suspicion and raw fear.
Shrek Academy. Monitoring the world and slaying evil.
That was the golden foundation upon which their ten-thousand-year legacy was built. But after today's grotesque display, how could anyone believe it?
The masses would draw the most obvious, damning conclusion: Shrek Academy was in bed with the Evil Soul Masters.
Yan Shaozhe knew the truth, but in this cruel, pragmatic world, the truth was irrelevant. The masses only believed what they saw with their own eyes. And they had just watched Shrek Academy fail to stop a kidnapping, only to reap the benefits of the villains' intervention.
"Shaozhe... let's go," Elder Song whispered. Her voice was hoarse, thick with heartache and a creeping anxiety. "There is... there is no longer any room to salvage this."
Yan Shaozhe didn't say a word.
He stared down at the pooling blood that stained the shattered stones of the Execution Platform. He knew the fallout was already beginning to fester. They wouldn't even have to wait for dawn. By nightfall, the rumors of Shrek Academy's collusion with the Holy Spirit Cult would spread like a plague across the Heavenly Soul Empire.
He didn't linger for another second.
Gently but firmly pushing away Elder Song's supporting hands, Yan Shaozhe dragged his ruined shoulder forward. Surrounded by the grim-faced Academy Elders, the defeated Dean walked down from the ruined platform, step by agonizing step, leaving his pride entirely in the dust.
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