Chapter 21: Shooting the Sun, Awakening!

"Kill!"
"Kill!"
"Kill them all!"
"Leave none alive, slaughter every last one!"
"Kill, kill, kill!"

At the third checkpoint of the Butterfly Academy’s selection in Skyglow City, atop a grand arena forged to simulate the ancient trials of gods and demons, two hundred or so challengers—whether fighting alone or in groups—were seized by a feverish frenzy. With hoarse, thunderous roars, they stirred the heavens and shook the earth, their bloodlust surging like a raging flood, crashing and swelling as if unstoppable tides.

Each and every one of these warriors, their blood boiling and their spirits ablaze, had reached the zenith of their potential. Above their heads, a column of smoke rose straight upward, piercing the chaotic firmament. The endless chorus of war cries was relentless, a never-ending cacophony. Cold, murderous intent, like venomous serpents awakened from hibernation, bared their fangs and slithered through the air—gruesome, terrifying.

Their faces had twisted into something monstrous; their minds seemed warped beyond recognition. Yet their actions were clean and precise, utterly indifferent. Human life meant nothing to them—especially when it came to ganging up on a handful of warriors or defenseless women. The thrill of overwhelming the weak, of hunting the helpless, was intoxicating—their innate brutality ruling them entirely.

The darkness lurking within their humanity was magnified, swollen without limit. They yearned for blood to spray, for desperate pleas to be silenced, to deepen the pleasure of cruelty. Their faces were flushed crimson as if smeared with blood, their breath harsh and ragged, like the primordial gales above the heavens, relentlessly tearing through all that existed.

They were beasts, stripped of all reason, driven by a blind urge to attack. They had even forgotten why they fought, why they slaughtered, why they bathed the arena in blood. The struggle for tokens, for passage, for the right to kill—everything that had mattered moments before—was now forgotten.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

The crowd surged like a tidal wave, morale soaring, the taste of iron and blood saturating every corner of the arena.

"If you truly possess the potential of a cultivator," murmured a voice unseen, "then resist this storm with your own strength. Should you survive, you will be baptized, and newfound insight shall be yours; your path ahead will be broader. My efforts to slow the Bamboo of Time, to grant you the arrival of six challengers and stir the hearts of hundreds—will not have been in vain..."

"But if you fail, then you hold no value and need not exist... Heh, do your best. Become a berserker as in days of old. Bury your mercy, cast aside your reason, and unleash your slaughter. After all, I have already taken away a few chosen warriors—there are only five spots left in the end..."

Deep within the heavens, an old man with bowed head and hunched back appeared, watching the chaos below with utter satisfaction, as if he had meticulously crafted a work of profound and unique meaning. Yet, there was a slight flaw—a certain vital spirit was missing.

With a sweep of his robe, he vanished into the depths of the chaotic sky. "I wonder if the second trial has begun in the other regions..."

...

"Take care of them—stay behind me!" Du Gu Farewell’s eyes were bloodshot as he shouted in fury. Facing wave after wave of challengers, he stood tall and unafraid. Yet, in this moment, a pang of regret struck him—he should never have brought the two sisters. Now, his hands were tied.

He was on the defensive, forced to watch constantly lest a challenger break through and harm the ones he had sworn to protect.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

With fists and feet, he struck out left and right, giving his all to maintain control over the area just a few meters around him. Behind him, Little Blossom and the Wolf, faces pale as death, guarded the flanks, shielding the two sisters between them. Beyond them was the barrier that encased the arena.

"All of you—get back! Or don’t blame me for unleashing a massacre!" Du Gu Farewell roared, his voice raw with wrath, blood and energy surging within him, his battle aura formidable. His words carried far, only to be drowned out by the mounting chaos.

"I hate this!" he cried out, his voice echoing with bitterness and unwillingness as he looked up at the sky. "Must I really be forced to quit the selection?"

"Boss, go! Kill as you will. Even if I die, I’ll protect them!" Wolf drove back an opponent with all his strength, shouting hoarsely. "Wipe out these bastards—leave none alive!"

A flash of cold steel—Wolf dodged just in time, but a deep gash appeared across his face, blood welling up, staining half his visage red.

On the other side, Little Blossom had better luck; most who came at him were unarmed, relying on fists and feet, allowing him to manage for now. But in the next instant, a towering brute hurled a devastating punch. Little Blossom blocked, resisting with all his might, refusing to give ground. There was a sickening crunch as his arm broke; sweat poured down his face, pain wracking his body—but still, he held the line.

The situation grew more perilous by the second. In mere moments, Wolf and Little Blossom would be spent, unable to hold on.

The younger sister clung to her doll, her frail body standing guard at the front. Though terror was etched on her face, there was a trace of determination; she remained silent, afraid to distract her big brother.

After felling another foe, Du Gu Farewell—blood and gore covering him—caught a glimpse of the carnage behind him. Fury consumed him, burning away all reason.

"Why? Why must it be this way? If you’re set on killing me—on killing my brothers and my sister—then don’t blame me for what comes next!" His voice was low and strained, like a primordial beast roaring in despair.

In that instant, as his emotions peaked, the mighty spear that had stood like a pillar in the sea of his mind suddenly thundered with power.

A streak of light shot forth from his brow—the spear itself, as if by instinct, leapt into his grasp, suffusing his very soul with a sense of unity.

Sunpiercer!

Sunpiercer!

That was the spear’s name: Sunpiercer.

His arm trembled; the spear rumbled like thunder, its dark shaft glinting with a barely perceptible golden light that flowed across its surface. A faint but real vitality pulsed from it, linking with Du Gu Farewell’s spirit, blending into one. In that moment, a sovereign aura erupted—one that could sweep the cosmos and cleave the world in two.

"Kill!"

His long hair whipped in the wind. In that moment, he was the very incarnation of a demon god; his eyes blazed scarlet. With a mighty shout, his strength surged, and the nine-foot spear swept sideways—faster than the wind, fiercer than lightning, utterly domineering.

Thud-thud-thud—

Six challengers in a row were impaled by the spear, skewered like beads on a string.

With a powerful shove, their broken bodies tumbled backward, toppling into the mass of warriors behind. Upon closer look, their corpses had been ripped apart—some with ribs splayed wide, others with entrails spilling forth.

The spear moved, and death followed.

With a reverse grip, Du Gu Farewell struck again and again, clearing a full ten feet around him. Wolf and Little Blossom, still fighting on instinct, suddenly found no more enemies before them and froze, bewildered.

"Protect them," Du Gu Farewell barked, his reason warring with his fury. Then, spear in hand, he plunged into the crowd, charging against the torrent of bodies with wild abandon. The spear drank deep of blood, singing with delight, while in his hands it danced like a divine dragon—up, down, sweeping left and right, breaking bone at every touch, chilling to the core with every thrust.

None could withstand even a single exchange!

"Kill... kill..." The shouts of battle continued, though now mainly from those at the rear, unaware of what had transpired. Those closest, however, were gripped by terror, scrambling to evade him. At last, reason returned to their eyes, yet Du Gu Farewell’s unbridled ferocity and invincible aura had left an indelible mark on their souls.

"How can there be such a fearsome warrior in this world?"

"Why did I feel just now as if slaying him was the will of the heavens—unquestionable and absolute?" one suddenly wondered, shaken.

"Of all people to provoke, why did we enrage such a killing star? I recall hearing tales... Ah, yes—the Berserker! The one who, alone, slaughtered every competitor and claimed the right to advance. I longed to witness such a scene myself—could today be the day?"

"If the heavens would destroy me, then I shall defy the heavens. If men would kill me, I shall slay them all!" Du Gu Farewell had never realized the depth of his own bloodlust. With every kill, a strange pleasure welled up within him. The spear was as an extension of his own arm—responsive to every will, a dragon plunging into the sea, a rainbow cleaving the sky. Each move brought exhilaration, as he poured his mastery of martial arts into every strike, reaching new heights of understanding.

His strength, though, was draining rapidly; sweat poured down like rain, his chest heaving with effort. This round of carnage had already claimed dozens of lives, with many more maimed. Where once the arena was packed to bursting, now it seemed almost deserted.

The survivors, their courage utterly spent, huddled in scattered groups, eyes wide with fear. Those who had lost comrades, seeing Du Gu Farewell gasping for breath, realized he was nearly spent, his power almost gone. Their despair turned to hope, and they called out:

"Look! The demon’s done for! His strength is spent—keep pressing and his power will shatter. Ha! Now’s our chance—avenge our fallen brothers!"

"Indeed!" Over a hundred warriors looked on, confirming his weakness. Joy lit their faces, courage rekindled. "He’s finished! Kill him!"

"If we do not avenge this, it will become a demon in our path, forever hindering our progress. We must kill him—purge our hearts!"

"Kill!"

A hundred voices roared as one, surging forward, each trying to bolster the others’ courage. They rushed together, power swelling, attacks like a river in flood, battering down all resistance before them.

"In my life, perhaps I have feared many things—but never a massed battle. Pity you don’t know that," Du Gu Farewell murmured, his face hidden behind long, black hair.

But no one heard him.

A pity, indeed.