Chapter 7: The Will of the Emperor

Roar after roar echoed as the Beast hammered his own chest, rampaging in a storm of fury. His arms, legs, knees, and elbows all lashed out in a relentless assault. Every now and then, he would bare his teeth, jaw stretched wide in a mad, frenzied snarl.

The stone platform trembled and shook beneath the onslaught. The air vibrated with the resounding impacts, each blow exploding with force.

Dugu Farewell moved with nimble footwork, his body drifting like mist as he focused all his attention on evasion. He waited for the Beast’s relentless assault to lose momentum, and then struck instantly, channeling the Nether Soul Art to replenish his own depleted strength. But the Beast, goaded by a few well-timed feints, would soon be driven into a fresh frenzy of attack.

Rage surged through the Beast, flooding his mind. His eyes reddened, blood vessels bulging with murderous intent. Suddenly, the Beast crouched low, limbs braced, crawling across the ground like a wild animal. The muscles on his limbs bulged and writhed, power boiling and surging within.

Roar!

The Beast leapt, lunging forward.

Dugu Farewell twisted aside to dodge.

The Beast’s forearms slammed to the ground. His hind legs, agile as a tiger’s tail, swept sideways with a sudden, howling gust.

“Iron Bridge!” Faced with this unexpected attack, Dugu Farewell kept his composure. His lower body rooted like a mountain, his upper body arched backward. The whip-like tail-leg swept just above his brow. Coarse hair brushed his tightly shut eyes, stinging sharply and forcing tears, blurring his vision.

“This is bad!” Realizing the danger, Dugu Farewell kicked forward on his toes, maintaining the Iron Bridge posture as he slid backward. With a push of his right hand, he vaulted into the air, flipping head over heels.

Through his hazy vision, he saw the Beast already in pursuit, leaping to intercept. His descent would bring him down upon the Beast’s head. Gritting his teeth, Dugu Farewell gathered his strength and hammered his right fist toward the Beast’s skull. “Let’s see if your head is as hard as the rest of you. Even if it holds, you won’t withstand the shock.”

The Beast, ever sensitive to danger, jerked his head aside. The punch crashed into his shoulder joint with a sickening crack. The shoulder dislocated, and his arm fell limp.

“A perfect opening.” Dugu Farewell seized the Beast’s head with his left hand, his legs swinging like ropes to trap the creature’s other arm in an unbreakable hold.

“Nether Soul Art!”

A terrifying vortex of absorption spun into life, greedily devouring the Beast’s strength and essence.

How much essence could a head contain?

Soon, it was depleted.

But the body’s instincts reacted, drawing reserves of energy from every corner to replenish the loss. This sudden rush left the Beast’s mind a tangled, numb mess. He could no longer cling to even the most basic threads of reason—coherent thought was impossible.

Veins bulged on the Beast’s forehead and neck. The muscles of his face twisted grotesquely. Fine blood vessels beneath the skin swelled and burst. Blood seeped beneath the skin, staining it in vivid patches.

Howl after howl tore from the Beast’s throat. He was reduced to nothing but primal instinct. His arms flailed, trying to break free. Dugu Farewell’s legs began to strain under the pressure, slowly forced apart. Suddenly, the Beast leapt, slamming to the ground, heedless of his dislocated arm as he rolled and thrashed. In a flash, he sprang up, only to crash down again.

Stone slabs on the platform began to crack and splinter.

Waves of force rippled outward, the shock spreading from the platform’s center. The entire arena trembled faintly.

Wolf sprang to his feet, tense with worry. Tears brimmed in Doll’s eyes. Little Sister Dugu was anxious, her thoughts racing. The two girls prayed in unison, silently: “All the gods and holy spirits above, protect our guardian, our big brother—let him come to no harm…”

Blood spurted from Dugu Farewell’s mouth as the violent tremors wracked his body, even with his second transformation complete. His organs churned; consciousness began to slip away. His legs, locked tight around the Beast, lost their strength. His left hand began to slacken.

If the Beast escaped, whatever happened next would be beyond control. He might be beaten into pulp, ripped apart, or even devoured alive…

At that critical instant, a jet-black light flickered upon Dugu Farewell’s left hand. A glove manifested, clinging to his skin. Strange, sinuous lines twisted across its surface, writhing like tadpoles. A will, imperious and boundless, exuding invincibility and pride, surged from the glove, penetrating into his mind and merging with his own spirit.

No threat, no intrusion.

This will gave itself wholly, allowing itself to be assimilated.

A hiss—

Dugu Farewell’s eyes snapped open, sharp as lightning. An aura of sovereign majesty radiated from him, a will that brooked no rival, commanding all living things, proclaiming his invincibility. It enveloped the frenzied Beast.

A low, mournful whimper escaped the Beast as he froze.

His chaotic mind fell under the domination of that overwhelming will. Memories retreated, unraveling back to days when he was pampered and fed, back through countless battles, back to when a hero brought him into the world of men, back to solitary hunts in the mountains, back—until the moment his mother carried him, fleeing deep into the wilds.

Somehow, Dugu Farewell’s legs had loosened their hold. The Beast did not attack. He lay there, expression blank, but deep in his eyes lingered a well of sorrow and longing, a faint yearning and attachment.

…

No one knew the Beast’s true story.

When his mother died, he could not speak, only babble inarticulately. Without her, he could not survive alone. Misfortune compounded: a tigress, out hunting for her cubs, happened by.

Perhaps curious about this strange creature making odd noises, the tigress circled him, full of doubt. Drawn by the scent of milk, the Beast crawled beneath her and began to nurse…

What followed was nothing short of legend.

The tigress took the Beast with her—carrying him, dragging his mother’s corpse back to her lair. The body was shared among the tigers; the Beast drank the tigress’s milk.

As he grew, gaining will of his own, he killed the tiger cubs while the tigress was away, claiming the milk for himself.

When the tigress died of old age, he roamed the mountains alone, living among beasts. Later, a hero passed by, took him in, and used him in arena battles to win rewards. When the Beast grasped the ways of the world and outgrew his innocence, he killed the hero.

In all his life, no one had made him submit, no one had earned his respect or love. No one—except a tigress.

…

That inconceivably powerful will subdued him, twisting his consciousness. Deep in his soul, the scent of that mother tigress began to change, gradually transforming into Dugu Farewell’s essence.

The Beast whimpered, kneeling on the ground.

With his one good arm, he helped Dugu Farewell to his feet. Though the latter’s left hand was still drawing his strength, the Beast didn’t mind in the least. He pressed his head close, like a child returning to his mother’s embrace.

Exhaling, Dugu Farewell gently tightened his left fist.

He did not fully understand what had happened, only that in that moment, he could sense every thought and feeling within the Beast’s heart. Now, the Beast posed no threat to him—there wasn’t even the faintest trace of ill will.

“Concede,” Dugu Farewell said wearily.

The Beast nodded, rising with tears streaming down his face. His body gave a slight shudder, and the dislocated joint snapped back into place.

“I yield,” he declared. “If there’s ever a chance, could you help me again? I just want to see it—just one more time…” The Beast pleaded with utter sincerity.

Dugu Farewell was deeply moved, nodding in understanding. He knew exactly what the Beast meant by “it.” A sigh escaped him: Humans think themselves the noblest of all creatures, brimming with sentiment. Yet, our emotions are too complex, ever-changing: love turns to hate, affection to enmity. In a moment we shift the very heavens, overturn the earth. Beasts, in contrast, are simple—kin is kin, enemy is enemy, their ways are straightforward and true.

Wild, frenzied, the Beast valued gratitude above all. The tigress’s death left him inconsolable. Now, Dugu Farewell had given him a sliver of hope…

…

“The… third match, Dugu… is victorious.”

In the vast arena, a pin drop would have resounded.

No one could believe it, but they had seen the Beast’s tears with their own eyes, heard him admit defeat with their own ears. “Are my eyes deceiving me?”

The chief supervisor’s eyes bulged grotesquely, as if they might pop out at any moment. “Impossible… Impossible! How can this be?”

“He actually… won…” Liu Si pinched his own face hard, pain ripping through him as proof he wasn’t dreaming. “I’m rich, I’m rich!” He yelled, leaping with joy, forgetting that victory here meant Dugu still faced seven more champions, a gauntlet of ten battles yet unfinished.

At this moment, Dugu Farewell was nearly spent. No matter how strong he was, how many more could he face?

Miracles do not happen every day.

“The fourth match: Challenger Dugu versus the responder—Green Serpent.”

A roar rose from the crowd, boiling over.

“Green Serpent…”

“He’s still alive?”

Each champion’s face twisted with a peculiar, eerie expression. They dared not even breathe, as if fearing to draw attention.

If they had feared the Beast, now their faces showed terror—deep, soul-shaking dread.

Panic spread swiftly, blanketing the arena.

“Let the battle begin!” the steward shouted hastily, then darted out at once.

Green Serpent had arrived!