Chapter 70 · Shards of a God
Night pooled like ink.
The wind whispered like something too terrified to speak.
A gray transport truck screamed down the desolate highway, its engine tearing open the silence.
Inside—
YiChen’s eyes snapped open.
Deep within his pupils, Spirit patterns convulsed—
like lightning thrashing inside a cage of stormclouds.
In the distance,
black mist surged.
Spirit pressure flared—wild, chaotic, wrong.
“…The hospital.”
His fingers curled on instinct.
The Pact Mark burned against his wrist—
not warm, but searing, like molten metal pressed to bone.
Ryan noticed instantly.
“Captain—did you sense something?”
YiChen didn’t blink.
His gaze was locked on the skyline swallowed by darkness,
and his voice—low, razor-edged—could’ve cut glass.
“Mist Fiend.
Phase Three.”
The temperature inside the truck dropped a full degree.
“Logan and Xu Wei are in the middle of it.”
Calm on the surface—
underneath, something twisted.
Coiled.
Leashed with brutal effort.
Something furious.
The squad exchanged looks—shock, fear, resolve—
and the quiet, burning fire of people who knew they were running toward hell.
Crack.
YiChen’s knuckles popped as Faithstream power surged through his Spirit Meridians.
His chest tightened—
as if a metal plate had been welded directly to his ribs.
Hold on.
The truck roared deeper into the night—
toward a city that was bleeding.
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Dawn Central Hospital · Fourth Floor — Inpatient Wing
“Here! Someone’s still alive—over here!”
Elena knelt in a pool of blood.
Both hands pressed over a soldier’s chest,
pink-gold Spirit Flame trembling at her fingertips—
so faint it barely cast light.
Sweat soaked her bangs, gluing them to her cheeks.
Her breaths came fast, ragged—on the verge of breaking.
She had long since passed her limit.
Two hours of nonstop combat.
Two hours of purifying mist, sealing wounds, dragging survivors from collapsed rooms.
No rest.
No pause.
Her Spirit Force scraped down to ashes.
A single hot tear slipped free—
falling into the diluted blood beneath her palms.
And suddenly she remembered—
That night.
YiChen standing alone in a ruined hospital corridor,
bleeding, shaking—
but never stepping back.
So…
this was what he felt.
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The Fourth Floor Massacre
The First Echelon’s three squads had reached the fourth floor—
but the cost was brutal.
Sixteen dead.
More than twenty gravely wounded.
Second Echelon had broken through to reinforce them.
Together, they’d extracted nearly two hundred survivors—
including four priests trapped in the lower levels.
But now—
Everyone was running on fumes.
The Mist Fiends had evolved again.
Bodies fully solid.
Movements sharper.
Tactics coordinated.
They hunted with hunger—
and intelligence.
Logan’s left arm was half-consumed by black corrosion.
Xu Wei’s combat suit hung in shreds, blood leaking through a deep gash.
John’s Spirit Force guttered like a dying candle,
his blade trembling in his grip.
Even Second Echelon instructors had joined the frontline—
And still, progress felt like wading through a tunnel of bone and smoke.
Finally—
in one coordinated, desperate strike—
the last Fiend was hacked apart.
“Survivors! Over here!”
Inside the largest ward, seventy to eighty people were packed to suffocation—
women clutching children,
elders trembling in corners,
a dozen critically wounded sprawled on blood-soaked beds.
Two pallid priests knelt by the door,
hands pressed to a chalk-drawn Tri-Star Halo.
Their bodies shook uncontrollably,
but Spirit still flickered weakly between their fingers.
Alive—
but only barely.
“Get evac… now…”
Logan slid down the wall, breathing in ragged shudders,
face bleached white.
“We can’t… go any farther…”
Weapons slipped from exhausted hands.
Medics collapsed to their knees.
Trainees sagged against shattered doorframes, shaking.
It was over.
They had hit the limit.
It was time to retreat.
————
Suddenly—
CRASH!!
A shockwave of exploding glass ripped through the far end of the corridor.
Black Mist Fiends poured through the shattered windows like a tidal wave—
dozens, then hundreds—
filling the hallway in a suffocating rush of claws and bile-black vapor.
And worse—
A massive dark-crimson tendril slid slowly through the jagged frame,
dripping thick, viscous fluid that hissed as it hit the tiles—
burning pits straight into the stone.
Xu Wei’s pupils shrank to needles.
“…The crimson one.”
It had descended from the upper levels.
Which meant—
All three echelons were trapped inside.
Surrounded.
Cut off.
Marked for total annihilation.
Logan forced himself upright with his sword,
voice rough as shattered grit:
“Warriors…
prepare for combat.”
His gaze swept over exhausted, blood-smeared faces—
trembling, pale, broken—
not a single one stepped back.
Tonight, any of them could die.
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All of them could.
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Hell Breaks Loose
The Mist Fiends surged forward as one ravenous beast.
“KrrrK—!!”
A black bone spike pierced clean through a soldier’s chest.
The Fiend latched on—
draining him dry in seconds.
He never had time to scream.
“Chen—!!”
Another instructor’s head burst open—
bone and blood splattering across the wall.
Logan’s vision went red.
With a roar, he poured everything into his blade—
fire-red Spirit Force erupting in a violent cyclone.
“I’ll stay behind!
Get to the stairwell!”
Xu Wei and John flanked him instantly, weapons raised.
“MOVE!!”
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Evacuation Attempt
The evac line broke into a sprint.
But despair was faster.
“Kak—kak—kak—”
From the upper stairwell, more Fiends crawled downward—
a spidering mass of limbs and claws, clicking like breaking vertebrae.
“Downstairs! GO—GO!!”
“Don’t push—DON’T—!!”
Panic detonated.
The lower-level squads couldn’t evacuate in time.
Upper-level survivors surged forward in blind terror.
The stampede snapped bones.
People fell.
People were trampled.
Screams, sobbing, choking pleas crashed together into a rising, shapeless roar—
And through it all, the Fiends advanced.
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The Last Moment
Elena knelt at the fourth-floor safety door.
Too exhausted to stand.
Her limbs trembled uncontrollably.
Her vision tunneled at the edges.
The Fiends’ kak-kak-kak echoed toward her—
a sound like mockery.
She let her eyes drift shut.
Her father’s gentle voice.
Her mother’s warm hands.
Her brother’s bright laugh.
And—
YiChen’s unshakable dark gaze.
A tear slid down her cheek.
So… I won’t get to see him again…
But she didn’t move.
Just as he never would have.
A pitch-black claw slashed for her face—
And stopped one inch away.
?
“—shua!!”
A hand seized her shoulder—yanking her aside with terrifying force.
Spirit Force surged into her meridians like wildfire.
Elena gasped, eyes snapping open—
A gold-and-black blade carved through the air—
CRACK!!
The Fiend’s soul-core shattered.
Its body collapsed into smoke.
Elena trembled.
She looked up.
And met a pair of luminous, gemstone-blue eyes.
A tall figure stood between her and death—
white robes billowing in the corrupted wind,
golden curls floating weightlessly.
Gold-and-black Spirit Force raged around her—
a storm barely held inside human form.
Cecilia Ilena.
“Can you stand?”
Her voice was clear. Steady.
Like moonlight cutting through a hurricane.
Elena steadied herself against the wall.
“I… I can.
Thank you…”
Cecilia’s lips curved into the faintest, weary smile.
She turned toward the stairwell—
BOOOOM—!!
She didn’t even use a technique.
Just one effortless sweep of her hand—
A tidal blast of Spirit Force erupted upward.
The Mist Fiends on the stairs didn’t scream.
Their cores shattered instantly—
bodies disintegrating mid-air in a cascade of burning black light.
————
In the very next instant, Cecilia disappeared—
No.
She didn’t disappear.
She simply moved faster than the mind could process.
Her body shot forward like a white-gold comet—
yet her afterimage remained suspended behind her,
drifting apart like loose particles of divine light.
One heartbeat she stood at the stairwell.
The next—
She was already inside the thickest cluster of Mist Fiends on the fourth floor.
Even Logan and Xu Wei failed to react.
A streak of radiance cleaved the darkness—
“Shua! Shua! Shua!”
Heads rolled.
Cores shattered.
Fiend bodies burst into black vapor.
A divine scythe harvesting darkness.
The warriors could only stare—
stunned, breathless—
as something holy and terrifying carved through the night.
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Contamination
Elena stood frozen,
her body trembling from the shockwaves of Cecilia’s power.
It was strong—
overwhelming—
a pressure that made her bones vibrate.
But—
Something was wrong.
That Spirit Force wasn’t pure gold.
It carried a fractured undertone—
a jagged, metallic aftertaste of agony,
like light forced through a rusted blade.
Elena instinctively cycled her rose-gold Spirit Flame—
zzzt—
The foreign residue burned away instantly.
Her eyes widened.
She turned sharply toward Cecilia—
a cold ripple crawling up her spine.
Her Spirit Force… is infected?
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The Crimson One’s Whisper
Far below, in the drowned depths of the Mist Domain,
the Crimson One curled upon itself.
Its rotting flesh pulsed—
each throb exhaling a tide of black smog
thick enough to drown a sunbeam.
From its core came a sound—
“Khh—khh—khhh…”
Laughter.
Wet—
phlegmy—
guttural laughter bubbling through diseased organs.
And suddenly—
the hospital’s fog barrier began to boil.
Every Mist Fiend—
skulking, crawling, clinging to ceilings—
twisted violently in unison.
Then surged upward—
all of them—
toward the fourth floor.
Drawn by a scent.
A resonance.
A weakness.
?
Encirclement
Cecilia stood in the middle of the corridor,
gold-and-black Spirit Force spiraling outward in a storm.
But—
The spiral dragged.
Heavy.
Uneven.
She had no training.
No battlefield instinct.
No sense for angles, footwork, timing.
The Fiends encircled her—
patient, predatory—
lunging in needle-quick bursts
before melting back into the haze.
Not one strike hit a Soul Core.
They were starving her.
Bleeding her.
Forcing her to burn Spirit Force faster than she could breathe.
Her breaths shortened.
Her balance slipped.
A bead of sweat slid down her cheek—
vanishing into the mist like a dying star.
So this is it…
Her vision trembled.
I stalled them… long enough…
right?
Did everyone make it out…?
At least this time…
I saved someone.
?
Collapse — The Breaking of Light
The moment her Spirit Force snapped—
the Faithstream she’d been holding back detonated.
“Saintess, bless us!”
“Heal my mother—please!”
“Why won’t God save our children?!”
“You’re the chosen one! You must save us!!”
Thousands of voices exploded inside her skull.
Not from outside.
From inside her.
Ripping through her mind like burning shrapnel.
Stop…
please…
that’s enough…
Her knees buckled.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Her halo flickered like a candle drowning in oil.
A Mist Fiend lunged—
claw descending toward her heart—
their wicked laughter echoing through the corridor—
And then—
at the final, razor-thin heartbeat—
————
BOOOOOOM——!!!
The entire outer wall detonated—
stone and steel ripping outward in a violent eruption of raw power.
Shadowfang’s obsidian body slammed through the concrete,
wings of starlit mist flaring as debris blasted across the corridor like shrapnel.
And atop his head—
YiChen stood.
A pillar of resolve.
A blade of dawn.
Golden light blazed in his eyes like the first sun breaching a war-torn horizon.
“Starhalt.”
One word.
A ring of golden particles burst outward—
and time stopped.
A Mist Fiend’s claw froze mid-air,
millimeters from Cecilia’s robe.
She didn’t even register the danger.
YiChen was already beside her.
His left arm wrapped around her waist—steady, anchoring—
while his right hand carved arcs of silver Spirit Force through the suspended air.
Then—
Time snapped back.
Pupupupu!
The entire front line of Fiends detonated,
exploding into tar-smoke as the crimson one was revealed at their rear—
towering, monstrous, unprepared.
It never even had the chance to react.
SHRRAK—!
A massive star-spear—comet-bright and taller than a man—
hammered straight through its chest,
pinning it to the wall like a fallen constellation.
Crack.
The shattering of its Soul Core rang out,
clear as glass breaking in a silent cathedral.
And with that single crystalline sound—
Every Mist Fiend in the building
collapsed into drifting black smoke.
It was over.
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Shattered Vessel
Cecilia fell forward, collapsing into YiChen’s arms—
her entire body trembling, breath shredded.
Faithstream power boiled through her Meridians like molten iron.
Ten thousand voices clawed at her mind—
“Saintess, save my daughter!”
“Why won’t God answer us?!”
“Please—purify them—please—!!”
She clutched her ears, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“Stop… stop… please… I can’t…”
YiChen frowned—
he touched her wrist gently—
And recoiled as if seared.
Pain.
But not the physical kind.
Not wounds.
Not corruption.
Something far more terrible.
“Faithforce,” he whispered.
“An enormous concentration of collective wish-power…”
His pupils contracted sharply.
No human body should hold this.
And if someone tried to forcibly disperse it—
Even he didn’t know what the explosion would do.
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Shadowfang’s Verdict
Star-mist swirled beside him.
Shadowfang manifested at YiChen’s shoulder,
his dark-gold eyes narrowing as he examined Cecilia—
not with cruelty,
but with the cold, ancient clarity of something that had witnessed centuries.
His voice dropped—final, merciless:
“Too late.
She is already dead.”
Not her flesh.
Her soul.
Crushed beneath the weight of a million prayers.
Hollowed out.
A vessel emptied by faith until nothing human remained.
YiChen’s jaw tightened.
His hand lingered on her shoulder,
as if refusing to accept that verdict.
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Rose-Gold Answer
Then—
A soft glow rippled through the smoke-choked hall.
Elena’s rose-gold Spirit Flame flared,
shimmering like dawn breaking through soot.
She sprinted forward—
froze at the sight of YiChen—
heart stuttering—
but only for a single breath.
She dropped to her knees beside Cecilia,
hands already reaching.
No hesitation.
No fear.
No questions asked.
Her palms pressed against Cecilia’s chest—
and her flame bloomed outward.
FOOOM—
Gentle.
Steady.
Resolute.
Zzzzz…
The black threads strangling Cecilia’s Meridians snapped—
burned clean,
one by one,
under Elena’s purifying fire.
Even the toxic remnants of Faithforce—
the ones YiChen could not safely touch—
evaporated into pale blue smoke.
Cecilia’s breath eased.
Her pulse steadied.
YiChen froze.
Shadowfang, too.
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Consciousness Sea · Star-Dome Temple
Inside YiChen’s inner world,
Shixi’s nine tails puffed up like overstuffed pillows.
He wobbled on his paws—
caught between bliss and spiritual overstimulation.
“Oooohhh… this origin aura…”
“I think… I might faint… right here…”
He melted into a shimmering heap of fox-shaped stardust.
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The Decree
In the physical world—
YiChen and Shadowfang stood completely still.
Neither spoke.
Until—
Shadowfang’s head slowly turned.
His dark-gold eyes locked onto Elena—
vertical pupils narrowing to blades of judgment, calculation, and something close to awe.
His voice struck like a spear directly into YiChen’s mind—
rare, urgent, absolute:
“YiChen.
You must keep this girl by your side.”
Not a suggestion.
A command issued by an ancient sovereign.
?
Elena blinked, confused—
her rose-gold flame reflected in YiChen’s stunned, breathless gaze.
What she saw there wasn’t just shock.
Not just recognition.
But something that had nearly been crushed beneath the night’s carnage—
Hope
