bullyxtreme V.4.296
V.4.296
The phenomenon does not fade.It persists.
For three years, the moon remains in the sky even during the day, its pale radiance slowly intensifying as thunder rolls endlessly from the direction of the Moon Empire, like a heartbeat growing louder with every passing moment.
Then,
It changes.
A pressure descends.
Vast.
Ancient.
Unavoidable.
The prestige of a Saint sweeps across the world.
It does not ask.
It does not warn.
It simply .
Every living being feels it.
Knees bend.
Bodies tremble.
Souls shrink.
Even mountains seem to lower under its weight.
Across Dragon City, the formation ignites.
Runes blaze beneath the ground and across the unseen structure of the city, rising into a protective dome that intercepts the descending will and shields those within from being crushed.
The pressure stops at the boundary.
But fear,
Does not.
Every cultivator inside the city feels it.
Every cultivator opposing the Moon Empire feels it.
A Saint has appeared.
And that alone is enough to shatter confidence.
Then,
The moon brightens.
Blinding.
Cold.
Absolute.
A beam forms.
It gathers silently,
Then shoots downward.
Straight toward Dragon City.
Terror spreads instantly.
Faces pale.
Breaths halt.
They know,
If this strikes,
They will die.
High-level cultivators turn instinctively.
Their eyes rise toward the throne room overlooking the city.
Toward Merin.
They believe.
He is the reincarnation of a Saint.
And if anyone can stop this,
It is him.
Elsewhere in the city,
Biyun halts his spear practice.
His hands tremble slightly as he looks toward the sky, fear clear in his eyes as the descending beam grows larger and closer.
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He turns.
Looks at Song Xingli.
“Second mother…” he asks, his voice unsteady, “are we going to die?”
In the next instant, Song Xingli appears beside him.
She kneels slightly and gently caresses his head, her expression calm, her voice soft yet firm.
“Don’t you think your father will protect us?”
Biyun hesitates.
His lips part.
“But… the attack is from a Saint,” he says, doubt flickering within him, “and father… is not a Saint.”
Song Xingli smiles faintly.
“Have you not heard?” she says.
“Your father is called the reincarnation of a Saint.”
Far away,
At the Cangzhou Mountains,
Diexin and Emirus pause.
They both turn.
Their eyes fix on the distant sky where the moon beam descends toward Dragon City, its light cutting through the heavens like judgment itself.
Behind them,
A mad laugh echoes.
Broken.
Triumphant.
“My Holy Gu Sect is finished…” Tian Duyao’s voice rings out, her body covered in wounds, chains binding her as she lies on the ground, her expression twisted with despair and madness.
“…and your Dragon City will follow!”
Then,
Something appears.
A dragon.
Violet-scaled.
Vast.
It rises directly into the path of the descending beam.
No hesitation.
No retreat.
It collides.
Light meets dragon.
Saint power meets something else,
Something that should not exist at this level.
The sky erupts.
For a brief moment,
Everything stops.
Then,
The beam disperses.
The dragon fades.
The two forces cancel each other out.
Silence follows.
But not emptiness.
Because everyone,
Every cultivator in the world,
Feels it.
A fleeting presence.
A Saintly prestige.
From the dragon.
The balance shifts again.
Hope,
Returns.
Diexin turns.
Her gaze falls upon Tian Duyao.
Cold.
Final.
“Mother,” she says, her voice steady, without emotion, “it seems only you… and your Holy Gu Sect… will disappear from this world.”
Far away,
Above the Moon Empire,
Nox stands behind Ye Weiran.
His brows furrow slightly.
“Did the Dragon City Lord become a Saint?” he asks.
“But… there was no phenomenon.”
Ye Weiran smiles.
Soft.
Knowing.
“He did not become a Saint.”
Nox’s eyes narrow.
“Then how did he stop it?”
Ye Weiran’s gaze turns toward the distant horizon.
“Perhaps,” she says lightly, “we will know after meeting him.”
She pauses.
Then adds,
“He must have appreciated my greeting.”
Moonlight gathers around her.
It spreads outward.
Envelops Nox.
Their figures blur.
Like reflections on water.
Then vanish.
And in the next instant,
They appear.
Outside Dragon City,
Ye Weiran’s figure stands beneath the moon, her presence calm yet overwhelming, as if the night itself gathers around her, bending subtly to her will.
“Lord Merin,” she speaks lightly, her tone soft, almost playful, yet her voice spreads across the entire city, echoing through every street and corner.
At once,
A strange warmth rises within the hearts of those who hear her.
Men.
Women.
Their bodies react instinctively, an uncontrollable heat stirring within them, as if desire itself has been awakened by a single sentence.
Before it can deepen,
Merin hums.
A low sound.
Barely audible.
Yet the Dragon Totem responds instantly.
Its power spreads through the city like a cleansing tide, washing over every living being, restoring clarity, suppressing the unnatural influence.
The heat fades.
Minds steady.
The city returns to itself.
Outside,
Space ripples.
A figure appears.
Merin’s spiritual clone.
He stands in the air, facing Ye Weiran, his expression calm, his presence restrained yet unyielding.
Ye Weiran smiles faintly.
“Lord Merin,” she says, “you send a clone to greet me?”
Merin scoffs lightly.
“And are you not also a clone?”
Her smile deepens.
“Then,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “are you not going to invite me in?”
Merin’s gaze remains steady.
“I dare not,” he replies, “after your two greetings.”
Ye Weiran lets out a soft laugh.
“I was only testing you,” she says, “to see whether you possess the qualifications to speak with me.”
Merin does not react.
“What do you want to speak about?” he asks.
Ye Weiran’s eyes settle on him.
“Lord Merin,” she says, “I have a request.”
“Can you fulfill it for me?”
Merin’s lips curl faintly.
“Let me hear it,” he says. “What does the esteemed White Spider Saint want?”
Ye Weiran smiles.
“Lord Merin…”
“I want this world.”
Merin shakes his head without hesitation.
“That, I cannot do.”
Her expression does not change.
“Lord Merin,” she says calmly, “if you did not hear clearly…”
“I was not asking.”
Merin smiles.
“And I do not care.”
The moment the words fall,
The sky changes.
The moon appears directly above Dragon City.
Closer.
Larger.
Its presence presses downward like a second heaven.
Merin chuckles softly.
Below him, the formation ignites.
The Dragon Totem awakens.
Their powers merge.
Rise.
Combine.
Above the city,
A colossal form takes shape.
The Virtual Dragon.
It coils across the sky, vast and unreal, yet carrying a presence that rivals the heavens themselves.
It roars.
A Saintly prestige spreads outward, colliding with the pressure of the moon.
The two forces meet.
Neither yielding.
Neither retreating.
For a moment,
They simply stare.
Saint against Saint.
Will against will.
Then,
The moon fades.
The dragon dissolves.
The sky returns to calm.
Ye Weiran speaks again.
“Lord Merin,” she says, her tone unchanged, “I have already stepped into Sainthood.”
“And the coordinates of this world have been revealed to my main body.”
“She is coming.”
Merin replies without pause.
“I will advance to Sainthood before your main body arrives.”
He looks at her.
Calm.
Confident.
“And I do not believe a Saint can contend with a Saint King.”
With that,
His clone disperses.
Returning to nothing.
Inside the throne room,
Merin remains.
Seated.
His focus returns inward.
To the Virtual World.
To its perfection.
To the final preparation.
The ritual awaits.
The transformation of his body,
From Dragon,
To Dragon-Human.
Outside,
Ye Weiran watches the space where he stood.
Nox, behind her, frowns slightly.
“Master,” he asks, “what is a Saint King?”
Ye Weiran answers simply.
“The next stage… after Saint.”
Moonlight gathers again.
Their figures blur.
And vanish,
Like fleeting reflections beneath the night sky.