Chapter Fifty-Six: Demise

"Who summoned me?" The voice was hoarse, yet it carried a terror that seeped into the soul unbidden.

But how many truly knew the real story? When Leng Bingyan realized the sorcerer was summoning the Eight-Headed Serpent, she acted. Seizing the moment the serpent was to appear, Bingyan temporarily sealed the portal the sorcerer had opened.

Then, impersonating the summoned deity herself, Bingyan appeared before Xia Yu and the sorcerer. She had a single purpose in mind, recalling what Mo Wuxie had once said: "Before Xia Yu’s rebirth, you must ensure she comes to no harm. But when the moment of rebirth arrives, you might as well lend her a hand to make it smoother." Bingyan had finally made her decision—she would "slay" Xia Yu.

As for the heavy, violet armor, that was simply to heighten her air of menace.

"Great One, it was I!" the sorcerer answered weakly. The effort of the summoning had clearly exhausted him, perhaps because such a ritual drained much of his power. For all that, excitement and fervor shone in his eyes. One of only two great deities in all Japan was not someone just anyone could summon—at the very least, the sorcerer could feel some pride in his accomplishment.

Xia Yu’s heart tightened. "Is my death really to come so swiftly?"

"Oh?" Bingyan mused, turning to the sorcerer. She raised a hand, her fingertip pointing directly at him. A dazzling violet beam shot out, piercing through the sorcerer’s brow, leaving a bloody hole as his body plunged straight toward the sea. Even in death, the sorcerer could not grasp why the deity he summoned would take his life, his eyes wide open with disbelief, refusing to close.

"Petty humans, how dare you disturb this deity’s slumber!" Bingyan thundered, feigning wrath.

A trickle of cold sweat slid down the back of Xia Yu’s neck. So this so-called deity killed for such a reason?

Bingyan’s gaze shifted to Xia Yu, making her skin crawl. Countless images of death flashed through Xia Yu’s mind.

"I didn’t disturb your sleep, so... can I go?" Xia Yu ventured, clinging to a sliver of hope. Her strength was clearly no match for this being. How the mighty are envied on high, how the tiger is bullied when fallen, and how the dragon is mocked in shallow waters! All Xia Yu could do was compromise.

"Go?" Though her eyes were hidden, they seemed to glance askance at Xia Yu. Bingyan’s voice was laced with amusement as she asked, "Weren’t you just thinking: ‘One day, when the tiger returns to the mountain, he’ll paint the skies with blood; when the dragon returns to the sea, the rivers will flow backward’?"

A bead of cold sweat trickled down Xia Yu’s face. How did "he" know? Of course, Xia Yu was unaware that Bingyan possessed the Samsara Eye and had deliberately activated it to observe Xia Yu’s innermost thoughts, savoring the effect of her own performance.

"So you intend to kill me as well?"

"My, such a humorless girl. I’m actually helping you, you know?" Bingyan thought smugly, satisfied with her verbal victory.

"Helping me by killing me?" Xia Yu fumed inwardly. "Calling me ‘little girl’—you look more like a child yourself!"

But before Xia Yu could dwell on it, Bingyan had already begun. Violet light radiated from every inch of her armor, exuding a dreadful aura. As she moved, the previously calm sea erupted once more, waves surging, clouds gathering from all directions.

Small waves clashed with larger ones, only to be swallowed whole. The blue sea darkened, transformed into a roaring requiem of death. The waves rose higher—ten meters, perhaps more. Xia Yu had never witnessed such force. "Is all this really necessary, even if you mean to kill me?"

The sky was heavy with oppressive clouds, as if they might crash down and smother her.

"Hey, could you hurry up?" Xia Yu called impatiently from the side.

"Patience, almost done," the "Great One" responded, a trace of laughter in Bingyan’s voice. Anyone overhearing their exchange might have thought them old acquaintances rather than adversaries at death’s door.

Xia Yu was surprised at her own words—she no longer felt much fear toward this so-called deity. Looking again, despite the enveloping violet aura and overwhelming power, what at first seemed terrifying and menacing now emanated a noble righteousness upon closer inspection.

Why the "Great One" would reply with such wit—only "he" could know.

Shortly after Bingyan spoke, everything was indeed ready. Her figure slowly rose, towering more than ten meters above Xia Yu. Below, the sea raged; above, lightning streaked through the clouds. Suddenly, a massive pillar of light burst from the deity’s form, several meters in diameter—violet, so densely packed it appeared almost black.

As the beam shot forth, Xia Yu felt a pressure unlike any she had ever known. The sheer force crushed the breath from her lungs, making her seem utterly insignificant.

Piercing the thick clouds, the pillar of light wound through the dark sky like a dragon. At its touch, the massed clouds dissolved, leaving gaping holes in their wake. The beam did not pause, shooting straight into the heavens as if to pierce the very atmosphere.

Having completed her work, Bingyan surveyed her creation with care, then turned to Xia Yu and gave her a smile. Though the smile could not be seen, Xia Yu knew "he" was smiling.

"The moment is near. I’m sorry to have to kill you, but I must."

Xia Yu was numb. Whatever the deity intended was beyond her power to prevent. The force of the light had already shaken her to her core; even at her peak, Xia Yu knew she could not match this opponent. This deity was truly terrifying—perhaps a god indeed, for Xia Yu could imagine no other reason for such overwhelming strength.

The sky grew bright, not with the brilliance of natural light, but with a purple hue—righteous and immense, yet stifling. Had the pillar, having soared skyward, returned? Xia Yu squinted, shading her eyes against the glare, and gave a bitter smile. She realized there was no hope of survival against such absolute power.

Resistance was futile; she had already given up.

Death, she found, was peaceful. In those moments, Xia Yu truly felt her senses recede, sound and sight slipping away. Everything was gone, all cares vanished, though deep within her heart, a final, fierce yearning lingered.

Familiar scenes, beloved faces, and voices echoed in her mind...

A thunderous roar split the meeting of cloud and sea. The violet pillar crashed toward the water like a wrathful dragon. The sea seemed to explode, sending waves tens of meters high surging outward. From above, the deity beheld a magnificent sight: the center had collapsed entirely beneath the pillar’s might—once, Xia Yu had floated there. Around it, a ring of waves, each towering high, spread out from the core, soon vanishing into the distant horizon.

Bingyan bowed her head, a trace of desolation in her posture. After a long moment, she lifted it again. "What must come will always come. Since the inevitable cannot be avoided, let me bear it for you."

"They’ve arrived so soon?" she murmured, and her figure slowly faded from the sky.

The waves gradually settled, their power dissipating far into the distance. Yet the brooding darkness above did not disperse. Suddenly, a strange light flashed, and an enormous creature, nearly a hundred meters long, appeared abruptly in the air.

Its body stretched nearly a hundred meters, several meters thick. Two small fleshy horns rose from its head, and glistening scales covered its head and extended halfway down its body. Curiously, the scales ceased at its midpoint, the rest of its body bare and flesh-colored.

What could this creature be? It was, of course, the Eight-Headed Serpent, meant to have been summoned.

Almost simultaneously, a figure appeared—a bald man in simple robes, his beard white, exuding the dignity of age.

"The Eight-Headed Serpent! That someone would call forth such a vicious beast—since fate has brought us together today, I cannot let you live!" The old monk recognized the monster and, determined to vanquish evil, resolved to destroy it.

He pressed his thumb outward—Thousand Buddha Hands, a thousand points of holy light! Countless tiny lights gathered from afar, speeding toward the serpent like bullets. Blood spattered as the Eight-Headed Serpent, summoned and not yet able to unleash its fury, was swiftly slain. With a final cry, it thrashed, then sank into the sea, unwilling and defeated.

Sighing deeply, the old monk descended, slipping beneath the waves. Before long, he surfaced again, cradling a small figure in his arms—a frail body, curled in on itself; delicate hands hanging limp; eyes closed, breath gone.

Seeking joy and happiness in secret, moonlit illusions dissolve into empty towers. Stones fill the sea, pearls are cast to birds, yet the unseen only hinders. To meet or not, fate is uncertain; the moon sinks beneath the waves, and people dream on.

After the old monk vanished with Xia Yu’s lifeless form, several figures sped from the distance. Gazing at the empty sea and sky, they exchanged a few words, then disappeared as swiftly as they had come.