Volume One, Chapter Twenty-Eight: Ash and Black

“Gray.” The hand formed a seal, pressing against the forehead. The black diamond at the brow spread outward, fracturing like a spiderweb across Kentu’s brow. A wisp of gray mist appeared from thin air, making Mu Qing’s heart and brows pound in unison.

Earlier, aided by the shattered mask’s power, Kentu’s consciousness purity had already broken through the limits at the peak of the Wishful Realm. Now, using the Disaster Church’s secret arts, he had successfully smuggled a narrow path within the third awakening abyss, glimpsing a fragment of the power belonging to the Incarnation of Calamity. That strand of gray in his hand was the very symbol of disaster.

Mu Qing gazed at Kentu with grave eyes, no longer daring to attack rashly.

This man before her could, with external objects and secret arts, draw forth a trace of the Thrones’ power. The Disaster Church truly was a congregation of madmen.

To wear the crown, one must bear its weight. Even if he could wield a sliver of the Thrones’ might, he would surely pay a dreadful price. But Mu Qing had no time to ponder such things. Raising her hand to disperse the pursuing black-and-white mist, Kentu cupped the strand of gray, his broad, sturdy palm instantly corroded and transformed into a withered gray. Yet he paid it no mind, absorbed in observing the gray mist.

“This is the power of disaster.” His voice once more turned old and hoarse. “This is the strength you mortals can never reach.”

“It’s just the Thrones’ power. Must you insist on calling it disaster? Your Disaster Church really has too much time on its hands.” Mu Qing decisively shattered the entangling black-and-white mist around her. The mist retreated to Kentu’s side, no longer daring to attach itself to him as before, as if afraid of the gray mist he held.

“Only by becoming disaster itself can one, through successive destruction, attain supreme power. Even the Incarnations of Calamity remain humble ants before the highest might. And you, you don’t even know what sits atop the Thrones, forever complacent in your ignorance.” Kentu, trembling, pointed at the surrounding mist, both black and white dragged irresistibly toward the gray. “Even when the supreme power arranges trials for me, I remain arrogant. The world, having climbed to its own limits, never looks higher. How laughable, truly laughable.”

“I see your brow is dark, your spirit withered, death is imminent—so I’ll give you two pieces of advice, free of charge.” Suddenly, Mu Qing interrupted Kentu’s endless rambling.

“First, the Thrones are no mere ants—they’re truly, truly strong.”

“Second, I know what lies atop the Thrones—I’ve seen it. Perhaps it's what you call supreme power.”

“Silence, ant! The existence of supreme power is not for you to glimpse!” Kentu, enraged by Mu Qing's words, would not allow the supreme power to be profaned by anyone, even in trial. That existence was pure, supreme, the highest rule—never to be desecrated by mere mortals.

“Die, blasphemer.” The gray mist, having devoured much black-and-white fog, now ballooned into a round cloud. Kentu poured his power into the stolen gray mist, diluting it enough to finally wield its disastrous force. Bringing his hands together, he struck the fog, dispersing it. In the next instant, the sky around Mu Qing darkened; a layer of gray mist formed a simple domain around her.

“Gray Domain, unfold.” Kentu’s figure vanished, reappearing outside the gray mist. His hands pressed against the wall of fog, activating the domain’s assault.

Abundant gray mist was born within the domain, corroding everything it touched: the surrounding rocky walls melted away like thin ice before a blazing fire. Even the space itself seemed twisted and unreal, eaten away by the gray.

Yet the gray mist could not block the view granted by Mu Qing’s tea-colored sunglasses. Casting one last glance at Kentu’s position, Mu Qing etched it firmly into her mind, her smile undiminished as she said, “Just now you called me a trial, now I’m an ant, and suddenly I’m a blasphemer. Your ability to change faces would even impress my best friend.”

Facing the encroaching gray mist, Mu Qing removed her sunglasses, folded them, and hung them on her chest. Taking a deep breath, for the first time she actively released the black flames sealed in her eyes. The world darkened once more, and the familiar heat surged from her soul to her flesh. Black phantom fire instantly enveloped her, yet it did not burn her clothes, merely flowing silently across her body.

The gray mist surged forward, finally colliding with the black fire. It was as if the previous scene of the rocks melting in the gray mist was replayed, but now the roles were reversed.

The black flames were ruthless to the incoming gray mist, consuming all without mercy.

Luckily, she had earlier vented the fire on that boy, so the eruption of black fire remained within Mu Qing’s control. Flexing her fingers and joints, feeling her physical presence, Mu Qing was certain she could move freely.

Outside the gray mist, Kentu continued to drive it. This sliver of disaster power was reaching its limit; he had to eliminate the blasphemer before it vanished. Palms pressed to the mist, Kentu controlled the gray fog, contracting and solidifying it.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from within the gray mist.

---

“I wasn’t lying—I truly have seen what sits atop the Thrones. Don’t believe me? Come see for yourself.”

A hand wreathed in black flames emerged from the gray, growing larger and closer in Kentu’s wide eyes.

Yet Kentu stared fixedly at that slender hand, at the surging black fire upon it.

That was power beyond disaster, the annihilation at the end of all things, the destruction he had sought his entire life.

The divine fire magnified in his eyes; he was excited, trembling, driven to madness, his eyes ablaze with longing and devotion for the supreme. He opened his mouth to cry out in delight, but no sound came.

Beneath the black flames, the hand locked tightly about Kentu’s throat, then clenched.

“The existence beyond disaster, the ultimate power of destruction—I finally…”

A crisp crack of bone interrupted Kentu’s thoughts.

“Is this death by supreme power’s destruction? How…?”

His consciousness faded, and the gray mist slowly dissipated.

He found his final resting place in annihilation.

One of the Disaster Church’s apostles, Kentu, fell.

As Mu Qing released him, Kentu’s body crashed to the earth, raising a cloud of dust. Mu Qing staggered and collapsed, fumbling to retrieve and don her sunglasses. After a brief unleashing, the black flames seemed stronger than before, and forcing them back into the depths of her eyes cost her much energy.

Looking at Kentu’s body among the rubble, Mu Qing’s expression was complex. For Kentu’s face now was not twisted or stunned, but serene and satisfied, as if he had found his true home and was enjoying an endless sleep.

“A bunch of…pure madmen. But alas, having witnessed such supreme existence, I can’t die easily now either.” Mu Qing fell back onto the shattered rocks, murmuring to herself.

---

Beyond the mountain where they fought, a patrolling mist spirit shuddered, its ethereal form growing solid, revealing a mist dragon’s spirit.

A single breath obliterated the area where the twin lotus had been guarded, and the mist dragon, red-eyed, charged straight toward Mu Qing.

This mist dragon had been Kentu’s last patrol spirit, left to guard the twin lotus after finding Mu Qing, to prevent the battle’s aftermath from harming such a precious treasure. If anything went awry, it would destroy the area at once.

Now, with its master dead, the spirit dragon was losing control. After fulfilling its final command, it unleashed its destructive instincts, rushing toward the only living presence within miles. Without Kentu’s constant nourishment, even a powerful mist spirit like this would wither away like water without a source. Rather than await death, it would rampage.

Just as Mu Qing managed to force the now bloated black fire back into its seal, barely catching her breath, a dragon’s roar echoed to her ears.

“Seriously, can’t you ever stop!” Fighting the dizziness from blood loss and exhaustion, Mu Qing rolled and crawled, narrowly dodging the charging dragon spirit, while Kentu’s corpse was swallowed in a single gulp.

Mu Qing gasped for breath, blood streaming from her wounds, unable to force them closed. The weakening from blood loss assaulted her mind.

---

In Mu Qing’s vision, the mist dragon, after devouring Kentu, grew even fiercer, blooming like a wild flower at the end of its path, burning with life in a final outburst.

With eyes like torches, the mist dragon locked onto Mu Qing.

Brushing aside blood-soaked hair, Mu Qing leaned on a rock to stand again. Blood pooled at her feet, yet she still bent forward, hands forming a fighting stance, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly.

“Come, beast,” she laughed weakly.

Both the mist dragon and Mu Qing erupted simultaneously, blood and broken mist entwining. A blood mist slowly spread across the battered mountaintop.

---

A long time later, a figure limped out of the blood mist. Mu Qing’s consciousness was already blurred. Her last clarity drove her onward, seeking the one person nearby she trusted most.

Climbing rocks, crossing streams, traversing plains, all to return to that person.

When the last shred of clarity snapped, Mu Qing collapsed. A crazed mist spirit, drawn by the scent of blood, lunged with jaws wide.

A spear shot forth, pinning the mist spirit firmly to the wasteland. Two figures emerged from the dense fog.

“Dongzi, there’s someone here!” The petite figure spotted Mu Qing lying on the ground and hurried forward. Seeing Mu Qing’s face, she cried out, “Dongzi, Dongzi, come quick!”

“What’s wrong?” After finishing off the mist spirit, Li Dongdong put away spear and knife, moving to join Li Yanxi by Mu Qing’s side.

“Look at her face!” Li Yanxi pointed at Mu Qing’s sunglasses, shaking Li Dongdong’s hand.

“Save her first.” Though Li Dongdong was also shocked to see this unknown woman wearing that man’s tea-colored sunglasses, she noticed the woman was near death. She immediately took out a bottle of pills, placed one in Mu Qing’s mouth.

Li Yanxi, reassured, tore off her outer clothes to make bandages, helping Li Dongdong staunch the bleeding and dress Mu Qing’s wounds.

A soft murmur halted their movements, and the increased pressure on the wound made Mu Qing’s brows knit in her unconsciousness. They quickly eased their grip and gently bandaged her.

“I’ll keep tracking the Disaster Apostle. You take her to find Xiao Mo. If she’s wearing that man’s sunglasses, she must be someone he acknowledged—perhaps connected to Xiao Mo. If she wishes to find Xiao Mo, take her there.”

“Be careful yourself—don’t act recklessly. The North China Military District should be on their way,” Li Yanxi cautioned Li Dongdong.

“No need to worry for me. As for you, don’t let yourself be seen.” Li Dongdong gave a last instruction, slung her spear, and sped off toward the Qinhuang Mountains.

Trying to carry the unconscious Mu Qing, Li Yanxi sadly found her height would drag the girl’s lower body along the ground. Straining to lift Mu Qing, she gently rose into the air, closed her eyes to sense the right direction, and flew off, vanishing into the thick mist.