Forge a path to success

“Compared to swordsmanship, I am indeed no match for Mr. Chu,” she said. “That gives me direction. Swordsmanship requires training, but the most suitable technique for me is the Remnant Heart Technique.”

"What kind of technique have you come up with?"

"A very powerful technique," Qingye said with a smile. "A technique that can help everyone and also bring victory to myself!"

She returned to the small building at night and locked herself in her room. She placed the long sword "Mian Sheng" on her lap; the blade, which had fought alongside her ancestors, gleamed faintly.

This sword contains the longing of the Hikari family's ancestors, but aside from her battle with Yagami, she has never successfully activated it. Her resolve is sufficient; her conviction will not falter. What she lacks is power…

No, it's speed.

Speed ​​sufficient to dodge attacks, speed sufficient to reach the battlefield, the ability to fight against Asura-like warriors, speed that flashes across the battlefield like a meteor...

The speed of light.

As Qingye closed her eyes and meditated, amidst her gradually weakening breaths, she saw the past buried within the long sword.

·

I was originally going to give her some advice, but it seems I don't need it now.

Chu Hengkong transformed the wrathful wrist back into a prosthetic arm, feeling a complex mix of relief and melancholy. Everyone had changed after all they'd been through, with Qingye's progress being particularly remarkable. That impetuous newcomer seemed like a distant memory, and after this battle, he probably wouldn't have the chance to teach the little girl a lesson anymore.

On the contrary, the other one that has changed so much is more worrying.

"Don't worry about me~" Qingxia said with a smile.

Chu Hengkong shrank back; this guy still maintained his habit of appearing and disappearing unpredictably, always managing to startle people out of the blue. He looked directly into Qingxia's eyes: "You don't need to—"

"I've always trusted Chu Hengkong." Qingxi blinked. "Please trust me this once, okay?"

Chu Heng was speechless and could only nod, watching her leave. Qingxia returned home and took out the Qingkun Spear. Part of the spear tip turned from white to red, and a drop of blood was forced out of the bone spear.

This was her achievement in the battle against Wen Yao. Before Chu Hengkong could successfully draw his sword, she pierced Wen Yao's heart, causing him to bleed a drop of blood. This drop of blood was swallowed by the Qingkun Spear and has remained there to this day without her even realizing it.

The life essence of the lustful demon is contained within this drop of blood, a powerful source of strength. If she swallows this drop, she might gain the abilities of the Warm Hawk... but at the same time, there is also the risk of her body being possessed by a demon.

A perfectly round drop of blood, like a gemstone, landed on Qingxia's fingertip. A rustling sound came from the window; Silar, perched on the windowsill, watched her silently.

"Qingxia, have you thought it through?" the old man said slowly. "What kind of person do you want to become?"

"Yes, Grandpa, I've thought it through." Qingxia nodded. "Whether it's the righteous path or the heretical path, whether it's a knight or a demon, it doesn't matter."

"The wings of a demon can also become an umbrella to shield you from the wind and rain, and the poison of a monster can also become a sharp blade to defeat your enemies. The way I use my power is up to me."

She swallowed the demon's blood and smiled broadly.

"I will not become a plague demon. I will become a warrior to protect everyone!"

·

The most intense battle is about to begin.

This is not merely the final struggle between the lost and the nightmare.

This is a continuation of the Heavenly Prison War hundreds of years ago, the first "end" of that great war that never truly ended, which will come in the year 3000 of the Candlelight Calendar.

The warriors were unaware that their choices would influence the course of the Heavenly Prison War... and the fate of the entire world.

They only knew that this was closely related to their own fate.

So the soldiers did their best.

Meanwhile, in the Demon King's city atop the Black Mountain, far beyond the wilderness, the Nightmare King no longer observes the settlement's movements.

It closed its eyes and fell into an ancient nightmare.

Chapter 233 The Path to Godhood for the Supreme Being (1)

—Blood, severed limbs, screams, pleas for mercy, and shadows shrouded in blood.

The hall was empty; there wasn't a single person in sight.

—Billions of images flashed by, beasts darted out of the shadows, tragedies unfolded one after another, the tragedies never ceasing. Occasionally, a brave soul would step forward and slay the beasts. The image would freeze, fixed in a small patch of light, like the morning star in the dark night.

The embers and the cursed lightning had just awakened. The limbed spider prepared for the coming battle. Nightwalker meditated, his dagger resting on his lap. Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating the empty hall.

"Vaklo!" he called out habitually, "Come here and write up a battle plan..."

Vaklo is not here.

The decaying dust is gone. The false light is gone. The icy ape is gone. The newly arrived lost soul is gone. The warm hawk is gone.

There was no one in the hall.

“…Olek?” He yawned. “Want to play chess?”

"Get lost. I just finished a fight with that piece of junk machinery."

"That's amazing, you survived again."

“I’ve lived long because I know how to keep to myself,” the great demon said. “Unlike you.”

“Indeed…indeed…” Vansalal chuckled softly, “Good night.”

He cut off communications. The final battle was still some time away, but he had nothing left to do. Or rather, he had had nothing left to do long ago.

So Vansalal fell silent, leaning back on his cold throne, finally able to relax after a long time. He planned to sleep for a while, just a nap, to return to the lively days of the past.

Close your eyes.

·

"Hold on, Vansalar!!!"

A giant wave crashed in, plunging the view into the seabed. Many eyes opened in the water, and a hand reached out from the surface. He grabbed his friend's arm tightly. The fisherman's child was indeed a better swimmer than him, and Karlsaud pulled him ashore, tossing him onto the deck like a dead fish.

"Cough! Cough cough!" Vansalar coughed violently. "This water tastes fucking awful."

“You’re a terrible swimmer!” Karsold shouted from the bow. “You look like a frozen dead fish!”

"Can you see my little finger?"

"What?" Karsold turned around. "Nothing!"

"I didn't see it either, because it froze off!" Vansalar shouted. "Damn it, how dare we two idiots, who aren't even Ascendants, go out to sea because of your damn dream!"

The small fishing boat swayed in the gale, rising and falling with the ever-changing waves. The sails were already riddled with holes, and Karl Sord was trying to sew them up, but to no avail. He threw the stolen sewing kit into the sea, sat down at the bow, and rainwater streamed down the edge of his broken glasses.

“If you had stayed ashore, you would be Recruit 88754 now.” Karsold’s lips curled into a smile. “Recruit 88754, you will be sent to the 376th war zone on the Imperial border. You will receive basic training and standard equipment during the teleportation. May the Emperor bless you.”

He imitated the recruiter's tone so perfectly that even in such terrible circumstances, Vansalal couldn't help but laugh.

"I don't mind joining the army. Last night I was even fantasizing about blowing the devil's head off. But now we can only feed the devil."

"Come on, you hate that stupid recruiter." Karsold curled his lip. "If you ask me, I'm definitely not going. I can only decide for myself what I want to do."

"Your choice is to feed the fish and commit suicide."

“Hey, I really dreamt about it!” Karsold exclaimed. “I can’t describe it to you, but you’ll understand once you see it!”

Vansalar rolled over, looked at the gray sky, and laughed loudly: "Yes! You dreamed of the Primal Spirits, the great shadow summoned you to an audience! Hahahaha, we've really gone mad, Karl!"

The fishing boat's hull finally broke, and the seawater submerged the back of Vansalar. The surging waves contained the eyes of countless demons.

It was a crazy day. The fishermen's children said they had dreamt of a primordial spirit guiding them, so they stole the conscript's sailboat and went out to sea to find out what was going on. Unsurprisingly, they were going to perish at sea, and perhaps decades later they would become ghost stories passed down in the small seaside village, a source of amusement for future generations.

But Calsaud didn't laugh. He stubbornly continued to maneuver the pitiful sail, as if he could truly conquer the giant waves by relying on the wind. He shouted at the waves, "Perhaps I am indeed mad. I want to believe that there is not only war and malice in this world, but also hope, love, and courage!"

“Alright, let’s go crazy together.” Vansalal stood up. “Go, man, God bless the hero!”

He and Kalsod hoisted the sails together, singing folk songs passed down from the seaside. The wave finally crashed down, overwhelming like the sky above the sea. Before the upheaval of the entire world, the boys' song seemed like mere noise. Vansalar stared wide-eyed, wanting to bravely face the end.

But then the horizon receded into the distance, the moonlight emerged from behind the clouds, and the small boat rose higher and higher, overcoming the giant waves.

An indescribable behemoth rose from the sea, lifting the small boat above the towering waves. It was an incredibly large jellyfish, its umbrella-shaped body resembling gray land.

"Look! Vansalar!!" Karsod shouted with joy, "What did I tell you?!"

Vansalal muttered to himself, "God truly blesses the hero."

“The world doesn’t favor courage,” the jellyfish said. “Fate chose you.”

Much later, they learned that this incomparable jellyfish was named Misfortune. But the young people at that time knew nothing of this; they believed it to be an incarnation of a god, or a messenger bestowing good fortune. They were carried by Misfortune to the center of the Sea of ​​Illusions. There, the currents swirled and formed eddies, like the intertwined fates of all living beings in the world.

They saw the shadow.

Just as Calsod said, he understood at first sight. It was a shadow—an artist. A trickster. A clown. A painter. The opposite of the giant. A twin of light. The primordial spirit that created the world.

That is the great divine throne.

"Order and civilization have their own significance, but unchanging longevity leads to stagnation. When the mind stagnates, the world tends to become monotonous."

They heard His voice.

"Change and emotion also have their meaning. The human heart can also ascend to the divine."

They saw a new path. It was one of heart, emotion, elements, and the individual.

That is the path to godhood for the supreme beings.

·

"Look! Vansalar!" Karsod excitedly raised his hand. "Did you see it? Did you see it!"

A stream of water emerged from his palm, which joyfully transformed into floating light, then into transparent flames that merged into his body.

Vansalar stared intently for a while: "It might not really be a hallucination."

"How could it be an illusion? This is incredible elemental magic!" Karsold trembled with excitement, the usually quiet, bespectacled young man now transformed into an artist completely absorbed in the magic. "I'm truly impressed! How can you remain so calm! This is power bestowed upon us by the Primal Spirits! Aaaaaah!"

Vansalar grabbed his friend's shoulders and pounded him on the head three times. The blacksmith's son's head was indeed harder than the fisherman's son's, and Karl rolled around on the ground in frustration.

“Listen to me, Carl.” He tapped his forehead. “First of all, the shadow has been talking to you the whole time, and I only overheard a couple of sentences. Secondly, this… might be a superpower that was tailor-made for you, one that I can’t learn.”

"You're just talking nonsense. This is the Great Dao passed down by the Primordial Spirit."

“I don’t understand, buddy,” Vansalal said patiently. “You’re not using a generator or a mental energy battery, so how are you emitting light?”

"Put your heart into it!"

Vansalar nodded repeatedly: "What about electromagnetism? What about thermodynamics? The edifice of Imperial physics is about to collapse."

"Let Imperial Physics eat the Emperor's shit," Karsold said firmly. "Now listen to me, close your eyes, meditate, and gather your emotions..."

"Psychological suggestion and pseudoscience..."

"Make yourself brave and positive, and imagine the most beautiful scenes..."

"All I can think of right now is grilled squid. I'm starving," Vansalar retorted, though he wasn't actually that hungry; he had simply run out of patience after trying so many times.

Calsod pushed up his glasses hard; he knew his friend had come up with a terrible idea.

“Vansara, do you remember when we were ten years old?” Karsod said cheerfully, “a lucky wild boar was possessed by a demon and stormed into the village like a chariot.”

"Hey, don't talk about this."

It happened several years ago, but it feels like yesterday. He still remembers the beast with eyes all over its head, like an evil spirit crawling out of hell, each eye filled with hunger and greed. The boar's tusks were like long knives, and he hid behind his mother... He trembled with fear...

"First it ran over your blacksmith's shop, chewing up your dad's hammer like it was a snack." Karsold ignored him. "And then what did it do? I remember now, your mom was cooking porridge, it smelled it, and poked its head into the house... Were you there? I can't remember, were you there?"

“I am here,” Vansalal said coldly.

"Oh, sorry, I only remember your mother was injured. And then what happened? Why did your mother end up unharmed..."

“Because I was there,” Vansalar roared, “I ran next door to get a gun and shot it dead!”

Gunshots and blood filled his mind, and he grabbed Karl by the collar. His roar turned into flames, his eyes gleamed, and a shadow leaped up from behind him like a black scimitar.

Karsold laughed. Vansalar looked at the burning hands, both surprised and delighted.

“I did it,” he said. “Why?”

“Because it’s only at this moment that you’ve stirred your emotions,” Karsaud said. “Vansarar, you are the bravest person I’ve ever met. It’s because you were able to overcome your fear that you have that courage that I admire. Remember how you feel at this moment, hold onto it, hold on to it.”

Vansalar raised his hand, recalling the fear of that year, and a murky shadow welled up in his palm. He thought of the feeling when he picked up the gun, and a blazing light appeared in the shadow.

Karl Sord crossed his arms to shield the faint light.

“Look, this is magic,” he said. “A brave heart is your magic.”

Chapter 234 The Path to Godhood for the Supreme Being (2)

The stage was set up perfectly, the sheriff had been informed, and the small magic spells for warming up the audience had been tested one last time this morning—everything was going smoothly. Vansalar ticked everything off in his mental notebook, and the staff waved excitedly at him, which he returned.