Not with haste, exhaustion, or desperation—but with unwavering precision.

A wide arc of silver energy burst from Sangrelia, several meters across, and hurtled toward Shoulie.

It crossed the distance in a flash—yet just before impact, Shoulie felt it.

A mortal threat. A death sentence if he didn’t act.

His instincts kicked in, and with a desperate shout that seemed to carry unnaturally fast, he activated a Cultivation Technique.

“Blood Cocoon.”

In the blink of an eye, a crimson cocoon formed around him—just before Celestial Moon’s Embrace reached its target.

Boom.

The two Cultivation Techniques collided with a thunderous crash, the shockwave rippling outward for dozens of meters.

For an instant, the silver slash and the blood cocoon were deadlocked.

Neither seemed to gain the advantage. Power met power, evenly matched… but only for a moment—

Crack.

A sharp, ominous sound echoed within the cocoon. From inside, Shoulie could hear it—the sound of death.

Cracks raced across the surface like fractures in a dam. And then, in one decisive instant, the blood cocoon shattered.

The silver slash continued, its force barely diminished.

“NOooo–”

Shoulie’s scream rang out—only to be swallowed by the brilliant silver light as it engulfed him.

For several seconds, Lunar Qi filled the space where he had stood, a blinding glow that erased everything in its path. Then, gradually, the light faded—revealing only silence.

Shoulie… or what was left of him.

There wasn’t much. The power of Celestial Moon’s Embrace had been absolute. All that remained were scattered, floating scraps of flesh.

The sheer brutality of his brother’s death shattered the oppressive aura holding Wusheng in place.

Wusheng stood still, staring blankly. His breath hitched between shock and disbelief. He didn’t scream. He didn’t curse. He didn’t speak. Only his pulse echoed in his ears, loud and rhythmic, as he took a single, unsteady step forward—eyes locked on the remains of his final brother.

‘Gone… both of them… gone just like that?’

His fists clenched tightly, fingers digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. His body trembled—not from pain, but from something deeper. Rage—building, boiling, trying to break free. Mikael stood nearby, hovering calmly above, his face unreadable, unmoved.

“You…” Wusheng’s voice came out low, cracked, and strangled. “You killed them.”

Mikael didn’t respond.

“You killed them!” Wusheng roared, and in that instant, his aura exploded violently. The air around him cracked from the force, his killing intent flooding the sky in an unstable surge of fury. His Qi flared out like a beast unchained—wild, vicious, but most of all… desperate.

He took a sharp step forward, eyes wide, his body almost lunging toward Mikael. For a moment, he truly considered it—throwing everything aside, attacking without hesitation, life and death be damned.

But he stopped.

Even now, with rage threatening to consume him, he felt it. The same ominous sensation he’d been sensing for days… was here. Stronger than ever. It wrapped around him like a shadow—cold, inescapable.

It was the only thing holding him back from tearing into the bastard who had just killed his two younger brothers.

Because deep down, he knew. The calamity he had foreseen through the Foresight of Heaven’s Mandate—was this man.

And he didn’t like his chances against someone who triggered a warning of that magnitude.

“No need to fight to the death,” Wusheng said, forcing his voice into something almost calm. “We tried to kill you, and you killed my brothers. It’s fair. There’s no reason for us to push it further and fight to the death. It would benefit neither of us.”

He slowly raised both hands, blood still dripping from his palms. “Let me go. I’ll vanish. You’ll never see me again.”

Still—no answer.

Mikael hovered in silence, unmoving, like a statue suspended in midair.

“If you let me leave, I promise I’ll change my ways. I won’t refine mortals anymore, I swear!” he pleaded. But when his words seemed to have no effect, he shifted gears. His tone darkened, and his gaze turned sharp. “If you let me go, we can forget our grudge. But if you’re set on killing me… I swear, I’ll take you down with me.”

Mikael tilted his head slightly. Then gave his answer.

“No.”

That single word shattered what little control Wusheng had left.

His face twisted in hatred as he let out a guttural cry. “Then die, you arrogant bastard!”

But Mikael didn’t wait for him to act. The only reason he’d tolerated the talk was to analyze his opponent. Now that he’d seen enough, there was no point in continuing this meaningless exchange.

Moonpiercer Sword Art – Second Movement: Eclipsing Crescent Cut

The blade shimmered with silver light as it cleaved through the air. A razor-thin arc of Lunar Qi shot toward Wusheng—fast, sharp, and merciless. Mikael had no intention of giving him any opportunity to turn the tide.

But Wusheng, driven by fury and panic, had already moved.

Instead of dodging or defending, he turned toward the Soulreap Skull, which still hovered nearby, humming with the remnants of his brothers’ stolen life force. With a roar, he threw his arms wide and pulled.

The crimson mist surged toward him just as the Eclipsing Crescent Cut tore into his side. Blood exploded from the gash, but Wusheng didn’t fall.

He screamed—raw, hoarse, more beast than man—as the blood energy poured into him in a violent torrent. There was nothing graceful or controlled about it. He was forcing it in, ripping himself open to make room.

His cultivation base began to soar, layer after layer shattered in reckless succession. His meridians quivered under the strain, but he didn’t stop.

Mikael narrowed his eyes. ‘He’s forcefully absorbing life force, damaging his foundation for a temporary power boost. Stupid…but effective. I need to stop this.’

Wusheng’s Qi surged violently.

Fourth layer… fifth… sixth…

His aura twisted, unsteady—les a cultivator’s presence now and more a roiling storm. And still, it climbed.

But Mikael had no intention of standing by and watching him power up without interference.

Moonpiercer Sword Art – Fifth Movement: Celestial Moon's Embrace

Mikael swung his Lunar Qi-infused slash—but not at Wusheng, as one might expect.

He targeted the Soulreap Skull.

With the life force of hundreds of thousands of mortals burning wildly around Wusheng, bolstering his defenses, it would be nearly impossible to wound or kill him before the power-up completed. But disrupting the source of that power?

That was far more viable.

His silver slash struck the Soulreap Skull head-on.

It didn’t shatter. Instead, it was blasted far into the distance by the momentum of the attack. The skull seemed completely undamaged, but Mikael didn’t care about that. What mattered was that the absorption had stopped—abruptly, and completely. 

Even so, it wasn’t without consequence.

Wusheng had already climbed to the seventh layer of the Spiritual Foundation Realm.

His body convulsed. Blood spilled from his eyes and nose as his spiritual foundation groaned under the pressure. Cracks spiderwebbed through his dantian. Mikael felt it clearly—this wasn’t a true breakthrough. It was a collapse, masquerading as ascension.

And yet Wusheng stood tall.

Panting, trembling, bones creaking under the weight of his borrowed power. His side still bled where Mikael’s Eclipsing Crescent Cut had struck, but he didn’t seem to notice. His gaze burned with fanatical hatred, locked firmly on Mikael.

“You should’ve let me go…” he growled, voice guttural and barely human. “You think stopping the absorption midway will save you? It changes nothing. Now I’ll show you what happens when you corner a Demonic Cultivator.”

“Blood Armament”

A crimson armor of blood formed around his body—and then he lunged.

A blur of ferocity, he tore through the distance between them, launching a punch with no technique, no finesses. Only raw power and unfiltered rage.

Moonpiercer Sword Art – Third Movement: Silver Dawn Requiem

BOOM!

Sangrelia clashed with Wusheng’s blood-coated fist, unleashing an explosive shockwave that thundered across the landscape for hundreds of meters.

“I’m going to kill you!” Wushgen screamed, his expression twisted with rage, amplified by the war life force he had absorbed without even attempting to refine it.

Slowly but surely his once calm demeanor was unrevealing—corrupted by the very power he’d seized. The price of reckless Demonic Cultivation was revealing itself with every passing second.

Meanwhile, Mikael maintained his defense, repeatedly executing Silver Dawn Requiem to meet the brutal, blood-armored blows of his nearly berserk opponent.

Each time just before impact, he shifted Sangrelia in a tight circular arc, forming a sort of mirrored deflection that absorbed a large portion of the force while redirecting the rest. It was effective—but not enough.

Even with his Sword Art at the Small Success and all his mastery, Mikael was struggling. Wusheng, empowered by the seventh layer of the Spiritual Foundation Realm, his high quality Cultivation Arts, and a maddened fighting style, struck with overwhelming force.

Each clash sent a jolt through Mikael’s arms, the strain mounting with every exchange.

BANG.

Another collision—and this time, Mikael was blasted backward through the air. Yet even as he flew, his eyes calmly tracked his opponent.

‘All of his parameters outclass mine by at least three to four layers. And that’s with my talents and my high quality Cultivation Methods at the Entry stage. Without them, he’d be six layers above me or even maybe more.’

“Not so smug anymore, are you!” Wusheng howled, his face contorted in deranged fury as he charged in again.

Mikael ignored him, focusing instead on strategy. ‘He outclassed me in every aspect except one—my swordsmanship. That’s my only edge. On everything else… I’m at a disadvantage.’

He sidestepped a punch, flying to the side, then countered with a sharp kick that struck Wusheng cleanly and sent him hurtling away. But he knew it wouldn’t do much—if any—real damage.

‘So… how do I bring him down without cheating

? No talismans, no non-cultivators abilities. Just me as a cultivator.’

“ARGHHHH!!” 

Wushgen’s enraged scream tore through the sky, dragging Mikael from his thoughts. He glanced up—just in time to see his foe clawing at his own face, expression manic and unhinged.

“You’re not supposed to be able to compete with me! I’m supposed to be the strongest!” Wusheng snarled through clenched teeth, his words spilling out in a feverish ramble before he hurled himself at Mikael once more.

‘He’c completely unhinged now… At least earlier, he was keeping some semblance of clarity. But now? He’s falling apart.’ Mikael narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of unease stirring within. ‘Demonic Cultivation really is terrifying…’

He drowned out the mad ravings and focused on defending—still searching for a decisive opening. But Wusheng’s nonstop yelling grated on him.

“Can you stop screaming like a maniac?” he snapped, irritation bleeding into his voice. “I’m trying to think.”

“HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!” Wusheng bellowed, as he lunged forward like a rabid beast, completely abandoning any pretense of defense.

Mikael met the charge with Silver Dawn Requiem, but the sheer force behind Wusheng’s attack sent him flying once again. He gritted his teeth.

And then his eyes lit up.

‘His berserk state—it’s made him stronger, but also dumber… and more predictable.’

It might not have seemed like much, but this realization changed everything.

“Are you even trying?” he asked with a touch of ‘concern’ “Or maybe…” he feigned a sudden ’realization’, “you’re not actually angry about your brother’s deaths. Isn’t that right? With them gone, all of their wealths are yours and in the future you won’t need to share anything.” Mikael smugly shook his head.

“I did you a favor, and this is how you repay me? By trying to kill me? You really are ungrateful.” He looked at him with disdain.

“SHUT UP! DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT THEM WITH YOUR FILTHY MOUNTH!”

Wusheng’s reaction was immediate and explosive—not because Mikael’s words were entirely false, but because a part of him… agreed with them.

There’s a reason they say the truth hurts…

Swish.

Mikael evaded another one of Wusheng’s punches, but this time, he didn’t need to divert it with Silver Dawn Requiem. No—he had predicted the attack’s trajectory with ease.

By the time Wusheng’s fist lashed out, Mikael was already gone.

The reason?

Simple—Wusheng was losing what little rationality he had left, attacking more like a rabid beast than a disciplined cultivator. And Mikael… took advantage of it.

Not to strike. Not yet.

But to provoke him further. He hurled insults—not random ones, but the kind that cut deep, especially in Wusheng’s unbalanced state of mind.

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— End of Chapter —