On the front lines of the Amber Corridor, the slaughter between the Horned Demon Heavy Cavalry and the Inquisitors had reached a fever pitch.
Severed limbs and broken armor were trampled into the muddy pools of blood, and the air was thick with the stench of gore and the acrid smell of scorched earth from the Holy Light.
The Amethyst Shards embedded in the back of Xue Yin’s hand had long since been stained crimson.
Her Waxwood Wand lay broken in two, discarded uselessly in the muddy water.
The pink petals of the “Rose Funeral” swirled like countless tiny blades, frantically shredding the remnants of her life force.
“People like you, who put on such high and mighty airs, who take lives at will while your ambition grows without end… you will never understand…”
Xue Yin’s voice was weak but stubborn, and her vision began to blur.
“Master has done enough.”
Jin gently pressed down on Xue Yin’s hand as she tried to prop herself up to reach for her broken wand.
His pupils had turned into a molten gold, reflecting her pale face.
His tone was exceptionally firm as he said, “Leave the rest to me.”
“Jin?! You can’t!” Xue Yin saw those eyes and immediately predicted the sacrifice he was about to make.
Her eyes filled with terror.
Jin took one last deep look at Xue Yin — as if he wanted to carve her features and the very rhythm of her breath into the depths of his soul.
In case he never returned, this would be the only thing he could take with him.
Jin rose slowly.
The black cloth around his wrist slipped away, revealing the crimson-gold patterns that had been dormant for so long.
The lines pulsed like waking veins, suddenly surging with a terrifying, heart-stopping rhythm.
“Wipe that hypocritical look off your face!” Jin lifted his head and looked at the Archbishop floating in mid-air.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it pierced through the clamor of the battlefield with clarity.
“The order you speak of is nothing more than the exploitation of the weak by the strong! Your so-called purification is nothing but a massacre hidden under a holy cloak!”
Before his voice even faded, he threw his arms wide.
The crimson-gold patterns erupted in a blinding light, and an aura far more terrifying than anything he had ever shown before exploded from his body.
The air shrieked as it was compressed, and the gravel on the ground was sent flying by the shockwave.
The pink petals of the “Rose Funeral” shattered like paper scraps before this power, scattering into the wind!
“What?” The pity on the Archbishop’s face vanished instantly, replaced by extreme solemnity. “This power?”
As the light dissipated, Jin’s figure remained suspended in the air.
The space behind him seemed to be torn apart by an invisible force, and a pair of massive wings slowly unfurled.
The left wing was elegant and whole, with pitch-black feathers that felt like the night sky descending, flowing with a profound luster.
The right wing, however, was tattered and incomplete.
Countless black feathers continuously drifted away from the wingtips like falling stardust, possessing a broken and tragic beauty.
Jin’s eyes had turned into pure molten gold, containing nothing but endless coldness and destruction.
Black flames ignited around him, yet they did not burn his body; instead, they swirled around him like loyal servants, twisting the air into a blurred haze.
He ignored the horrified Archbishop and merely tilted his head, locking his gaze onto the still-humming Source Crystal Suppression Tower.
In the next second, his figure vanished into thin air.
When he reappeared, he was at the top of the thirty-meter-tall giant tower.
He raised his hand and lightly tapped the tower’s surface with his finger.
“Break.”
A single word, spoken with total indifference.
The forbidden object, carved from pure Source Crystals and capable of suppressing all magic on the field, suddenly became covered in spiderweb-like cracks as if it had been struck by a heavy sledgehammer.
Then, with a deafening roar, it exploded! Countless shards of Source Crystal sprayed out like a rainstorm.
The suppressed magic instantly rushed back, and the elements across the entire battlefield became violent and active.
Having finished this, Jin slowly turned to face the Archbishop.
He did not move his feet; he simply reached out and performed a light pulling motion against the space in front of him.
That patch of space was folded like a piece of cloth. In the next instant, he was standing directly in front of the Archbishop, separated by only an inch.
“You… space magic…” The Archbishop raised the Box of Atonement in terror, trying to chant a final defense.
“Divine Domain—”
Jin gave him no chance, raising his hand and delivering a slap.
There were no flashy moves or complex incantations — only pure power and speed.
*Slap!*
The crisp sound of the slap echoed across the battlefield.
The Archbishop was sent flying like a fallen leaf.
The Box of Atonement slipped from his hand, tumbling through the air before hitting the ground.
The face that had always worn a compassionate smile was now completely distorted.
The bones on one side of his cheek were shattered, and blood mixed with shredded flesh in a pathetic display.
He struggled to crawl up, only to find that the Holy Light shield he took such pride in was meaningless before Jin’s black flames.
The flames ignored the defense, penetrating the shield to char his skin, bringing a burning sensation that reached the very level of his soul.
“Why?” He looked at Jin in despair, his eyes full of confusion.
He had spent his life slaughtering heretics and stripping away the Demon Rose, worshipped by countless believers.
“I am clearly the spokesperson of the Gods…”
Jin did not answer.
He simply raised his hand, condensed a ball of black flame at his fingertip, and pressed it lightly against the Archbishop’s chest.
“Are you finished with your last words?”
The black flames instantly consumed the Archbishop’s body.
There was no screaming, no struggling; he simply watched as his own flesh and blood turned into a pile of ash under the high temperature, scattering with the wind.
After doing all this, the molten gold in Jin’s eyes did not fade.
He slowly turned around and looked down at the Inquisitors on the battlefield below, who were already paralyzed with fear.
‘Kill… kill them all… destroy…’
Countless broken roars and slaughtering instincts flooded his mind.
It was the curse within his bloodline screaming frantically: ‘Anyone who approaches is an enemy! Anyone living must be destroyed!’
The Inquisitors, who had once looked down on everyone, were now consumed by black flames like mere ants.
Screams rose one after another; some were burned to cinders, while others were torn to pieces.
The scene was utterly tragic.
The survivors threw down their weapons and fled in all directions, wailing as their once iron-clad line of defense completely collapsed.
“Retreat! Everyone retreat!” Laine’s voice rang out across the battlefield, carrying an unquestionable authority.
He looked at the out-of-control Jin below, his eyes flashing with shock and relief, but more than anything, a deep worry.
He took a deep breath and slammed both hands onto the ground.
“In the name of Marsais, invoke the wrath of the ley lines!”
As his voice fell, the ground across the entire battlefield began to shake violently.
Massive cracks spread outward from him as the center, and crimson lava erupted from the fissures, instantly forming a circular wall of fire to buy time for the remnants of the Amber Corridor to evacuate.
Xue Yin looked at the figure shrouded in black flames, a sharp pain piercing her heart.
“Jin…”
She grit her teeth, her gaze turning resolute.
She knew that the current Jin was beyond any reason.
‘But I believe you would never hurt me.’
She whispered as she deployed a water screen, rushing through the scorching wall of fire without regard for her own safety.
The heat stung her cheeks, and the water screen evaporated into clouds of white steam — she didn’t care.
Only the sound of her own heartbeat filled her ears, and Jin’s silhouette was the only thing in her sight.
Jin slowly turned his head.
There was no focus in his molten gold pupils, only endless destruction and madness.
The slaughtering commands in his mind screamed “clear the obstacle,” and he raised his hand, pointing the black flames at his fingertip toward Xue Yin’s heart.
Xue Yin did not dodge.
She simply looked at him quietly, her gaze firm and gentle, as if they were back in the days when she had personally guided him.
She suddenly grabbed Jin’s hand — the one burning with black flames — and forced it against her own throat. X
ue Yin’s hand trembled uncontrollably; what she feared was that if she took even half a step back, Jin would never come back to her.
“I have always hated forming bonds with people — because I’m most afraid of losing what I finally have… You clearly said that I am your Master, your reason for living!”
Her voice was hoarse and stern, carrying the unique authority of a teacher.
“Do you intend to break your promise now?”
Xue Yin stared deathly into Jin’s eyes.
Blood dripped from the wounds on her hand caused by the Amethyst Shards, falling onto the back of Jin’s hand with a *sizzle*.
The light in Jin’s eyes flickered slightly.
Memories seemed to be forcibly dragged back to that afternoon — back to the youth who had used all his savings to buy a wand.
‘Take it. Consider it a gift from an apprentice for the opening of the Master’s shop.’
“If you still want to be my apprentice, then stop this instant! If you want to kill everyone here, then kill me first! Because I won’t allow my apprentice to be a bastard who kills his own Master!”
Jin’s hand froze.
The countless noisy waves of slaughter in his mind seemed to have been forcibly muted by Xue Yin’s resolute gaze.
Xue Yin could feel Jin’s hand trembling violently.
That ball of black flame jumped wildly only an inch from her throat, as if engaged in a final struggle.
“Get… away…” Jin squeezed the broken words through his teeth.
It was the last of his remaining logic trying to drive away the person he cherished most.
Xue Yin did not retreat.
She saw Jin’s lips moving silently, as if he were repeating something over and over — she read his lips.
‘Master… run…’
That was the last sentence Jin held onto with all his willpower amidst the tide of slaughtering instincts.
‘Will… die…’
Xue Yin’s tears burst forth instantly.
She shook her head violently.
“I’m not running! Jin, listen to me! If you want to kill me, then do it! But if you want me to live, then wake up! Without you, it doesn’t matter where I run, I’m already dead! Do you understand? My life belongs to you now…”
Xue Yin’s voice carried a hint of a sob she couldn’t hide.
She let go of Jin’s hand and stared directly into his eyes.
“I’ve already accepted the keepsake you gave me, you idiot!” With a trembling hand, she reached into her robe and pulled out a bone comb — it was a relic of Jin’s mother and his most precious possession.
She held the bone comb high, letting the warm texture of the bone glint faintly amidst the fires of war.
Jin’s body jolted.
The bone comb in Xue Yin’s hand acted like a key, forcibly prying open his chaotic mind.
It brought back that late night of the Red Flame Festival, where the youth had firmly made a promise about “waiting for love”: ‘Fine, I’ll wait for you; no matter how long it takes, I’ll wait.’
Finally, the black flames slowly died out.
The molten gold in Jin’s eyes receded like a tide, revealing his original dark red color.
However, those eyes no longer held their former warmth; they were only a void of deathly silence.
“Jin? Jin!” Xue Yin called out tentatively.
Jin gave no response, and his breath was so faint it was almost undetectable.
Her heart sank.
She knew that while her words had forcibly severed Jin’s slaughtering instincts, they had also acted like a heavy hammer, shattering what was left of Jin’s self.
Just then, Jin’s hollow pupils shifted slightly.
Like a child lost in the dark, he slowly and clumsily reached out, grabbing the hem of Xue Yin’s clothes.
“Jin…” Xue Yin’s voice trembled.
She reached out and gently stroked Jin’s expressionless face.
“Can you hear me? It’s Xue Yin.”
Jin’s hollow pupils shifted again, his gaze slowly focusing on Xue Yin’s face.
His lips moved twice, producing a dry, raspy sound like rusted gears turning with great difficulty.
“Mas… ter…”
It was the only word he could think of in his mind at that moment, the only anchor for his identity he could confirm.
“Yes, I am your Master.”
Xue Yin’s eyes grew hot.
She knew that in his world, only this one sentence remained.
Having received a response, Jin spoke no more.
Although his body was trembling slightly, his feet seemed rooted to the spot as he stood guard before Xue Yin.
His black wings unfurled silently, shrouding her in their shadow as he watched the surrounding flames with vigilance.
Xue Yin looked at his empty eyes, and a heart-wrenching pain surged through her.
She did not push him away.
Instead, she used all her strength to pull Jin’s cold, stiff body into a tight, desperate embrace.
“It’s okay now, Jin,” she whispered into his ear.
“This time, it’s my turn to lead the way for you.”
Jin did not respond, but his body, which had been so stiff it was almost petrified, very slowly relaxed in her arms.
Only the hand clutching the hem of Xue Yin’s clothes never let go.