Chapter 80: Misaka Unleashed

So she moved. Blue-white electric sparks enveloped Mikoto as she charged toward the big-headed infant, and her spear of lightning struck the baby's wrist and other vital parts of its body at the speed of light. Simultaneously, pitch-black metallic sand erupted from the ground, gently catching the crying infant that fell, while the big-headed baby wreathed in lightning received no such gentle treatment.

A violent tornado of metallic sand wrapped around his body, flashes of lightning crackling within its spiraling depths. But that was not all. Once the crying baby was rescued, a pillar of orange-red light shot from her hand, striking the figure at the heart of the sand tornado. The massive beam smashed into the stone wall, piercing through the mountain, its brilliance shooting toward the sky, vanishing after traveling more than a hundred feet.

Everything happened so suddenly—from Mikoto's outburst to the big-headed baby being blasted away—all within a single breath. In that brief moment, no one else had time to react, not even the woman with the black veil.

Qi, who had hurried over upon hearing the commotion, was the first to see Mikoto’s furious, twisted expression as she stepped out of the scorching mountain cave on a wave of metallic sand.

"Misaka Mikoto…" Qi’s call faltered, for he too saw the piles of gleaming white bones and grotesque skulls, and the crying infant whose left foot had been bitten off.

He had witnessed such cruelty before—not for the first time. Just days ago, he had seen a similar hellscape, closing the eyes of those consumed by hatred, fury, and pain in Qidian Village's center.

But seeing it once does not mean one can ever grow accustomed to such scenes. Confronted by this second infernal tableau, his heart twisted in agony. This was the world of cultivation—the very world of cultivation. As Mikoto had said, if he were to turn away from what lay before him, his conscience would be tormented beyond measure.

So Qi acted. Every figure in black robes, save for the infants, lay collapsed on the ground. Yet he did not see the woman in the black veil—perhaps she had fled early.

Mikoto, soaring from the mountain, saw the big-headed infant suspended in midair. Despite being struck by the spear of lightning, battered by the metallic sand tornado, and hit by the railgun, he remained unharmed—as if such attacks could not even scratch his defenses.

"If I eat you, perhaps my talent will reach the Nascent Soul stage. How delightful, hehehehe…" The big-headed baby's eyes burned feverishly as he gazed at Mikoto.

"I will kill you," Mikoto declared, her fury boundless. Endless lightning erupted, transforming the surroundings into a sea of blue-violet electricity, expanding ever outward.

The big-headed baby's gaze sharpened—lightning, the bane of all demonic cultivators, was positive energy incarnate. If he were engulfed by that vast sea of electricity, even he would be in serious trouble.

Retreat was his only option. At that moment, he felt a prickling sensation like needles on his back. No time to turn, a shrill whistle escaped his fanged mouth, and a piece of black silk brocade materialized, wrapping around him completely.

Two flying swords, one white jade and one crimson spirit, burst forth in dazzling brilliance, stabbing fiercely into the black silk brocade. Yet something strange happened—the two supreme flying swords silently penetrated the brocade, and the big-headed baby remained unharmed, the swords never reemerging.

"What?" Two identical cries of surprise came from the direction of the sword hilts—naturally, the delicate young mistress of the Demon Sect and the silver-haired woman, Xiao Qin.

Though startled by little Mikoto’s power, both women were seasoned warriors. They knew exactly what to do in such moments, and together they launched their supreme flying swords to block the enemy’s retreat.

But they had not anticipated the defensive artifact of the big-headed baby to be so bizarre. What was that black silk brocade that could devour the flying swords of cultivators?

They could still sense the swords' presence within the brocade, but no matter what, they could not summon them back.

"Heh, two reckless little fools—do you take me for a mere Core Formation cultivator? Hehehehe… Today, I'll use you to test the power of my perfected divine technique." The big-headed baby twisted lightly, dodging the expanding sea of lightning, appearing a hundred feet away. He opened his mouth and spat out a pitch-black sail.

The sail unfurled in the wind, and within a single breath, it blotted out the sky above several mountain peaks. The black canvas billowed, roaring like thunderous storm clouds. Within those clouds was not the lightning that could restrain him, but ethereal black smoke—sometimes transforming into hideous ghost faces, sometimes into crying, screaming infants.

These were the vengeful spirits of the infants slaughtered by the big-headed baby, their souls extracted and forged into a fierce magical treasure within his mysterious infant core. The "Ten Thousand Infant Soul Sail," crafted primarily from the soul of a girl slaughtered at the darkest hour, supplemented by the souls of tens of thousands of ordinary infants—the heavier the yin energy, the more powerful.

Such a heinous artifact should never have seen the light of day. Yet, through some stroke of fortune, he truly succeeded in forging it. When the treasure emerged, it drew a minor heavenly tribulation, which destroyed more than half the vengeful infant souls, but never managed to utterly eradicate the sail.

The big-headed baby used the power of this treasure and the heavenly tribulation to break into the Core Formation stage, his strength multiplied many times over. Yet he was shrewd enough not to stir up trouble, instead hiding in a remote place, constantly capturing infants to replenish the missing vengeful souls of the sail.

Now, nearly ten thousand vengeful infants howled, forming a strange formation. It was like an enormous infant magnified ten thousand times, its giant body emitting cries that sounded both mournful and excited, the sound trembling the air and generating immense wind pressure.

The demoness and the silver-haired woman felt the crushing spiritual pressure radiated by the giant vengeful infant, their expressions shifting slightly. For this pressure was already close to the mid-Core Formation level.

In the great sects, Core Formation cultivators were not so rare; they understood the extent of such spiritual pressure.

But today, the protagonist was not them.

"Yaaah—!" Mikoto's furious scream overpowered even the wailing of the giant vengeful infant. The already wild sea of lightning grew ever more frenzied.

Those grotesque, twisted infants—nearly ten thousand in the air, ten thousand! Mikoto understood exactly what that meant. Because she knew the truth, she could not help but scream in rage.

Not only were there a hundred infants in the cave, but outside, nearly a hundred times more had been killed in the same cruel manner.

Her mind replayed the hellish scene from just minutes before—a scene that had played out over ten thousand times. Each time she thought of that number and the lives of those infants, she could not restrain her fury.

If she did not defeat him—if she did not kill him—even more infants would be devoured. So she must kill him, even if she could never return to her original world; she would kill him, no matter what.

(It’s been so long since I asked for recommendation tickets. Though I’ve never received them, not even once.)