"Impossible." Old Moe muttered, his eyes wild with terror as he stared at me. Inside, I felt a chilling emptiness—no trace of John Chou, only a hollow void gnawing at my soul. Blood oozed relentlessly from the corner of my mouth, thick and metallic, dripping onto the cold floor.
"Martin Lane, if you don't release him now, your precious son-in-law will die a gruesome death. Are you so heartless as to watch your beloved daughter drown in widowhood?"
It was John Chou. His voice slithered from behind Old Moe. I stared, paralyzed, as a blood-red particle shimmered and John Chou materialized, clutching the gleaming, blood-drenched Rage Blood. Dark crimson tendrils lashed out, stabbing viciously into Old Moe's spine, the wet sound echoing in the suffocating air.
With a guttural roar, Old Moe's body warped before my eyes, bones cracking as his form grotesquely expanded. He was becoming the White Tiger—a monstrous shape, its fur stained a deep, sickly red. The beast collapsed, limp and powerless, its transformation a nightmare made flesh.
"John Chou, you think I can't see through your tricks? The shadow I destroyed was just Zhang Qingyuan's echo. You—the real you—slipped out of his body in that fleeting instant."
It was Old Moe, his scream a jagged blade in the darkness, sparks sizzling around him. He charged toward us, gripping the Phoenix Blade, its edge burning with spectral fire. John Chou's face twisted in shock—he hadn't expected this. With a deafening crash and a torrent of flames, the Phoenix Blade plunged into John Chou's chest, and an inferno raged, painting the world in hellish light.
"John Chou..." I screamed, my voice raw, eyes locked on his fading figure—his body dissolving at the edges, as if the darkness itself was swallowing him whole.
"It's all on you now," I rasped, my words trembling with dread and exhaustion.
In a heartbeat, John Chou let out a piercing cry. I roared, and a shadow surged into my body—my own darkness, cold and suffocating. Clutching the Deathbane Aura Blade, I hurled myself at Old Moe, the blade slicing through the gloom.
The sight froze me in terror. The roaring flames, once unstoppable, were strangled by writhing, dark red bloodlines. Old Moe's hands and body were cocooned in those living cords, squeezing tighter, rendering him helpless and utterly trapped, like prey in a nightmare.
"Old Moe, you've lost. Let go."
I shouted, raising the condensed black Phoenix Blade and slashing at Old Moe's shoulder.
Bang—a Vermilion Bird wing instantly bent forward, blocking my black Phoenix Blade. Before I could react, a Crimson Veil shot out from Old Moe's body, wrapping tightly around me like iron plates. I was completely immobilized.
"Son-in-law, heh, did you really underestimate your father-in-law?"
My heart raced with anxiety, watching Old Moe and John Chou both struggle desperately. It seemed whichever side gave in first would lose.
"Stop forcing it. After fighting like this, Martin Lane, isn't it enough?"
John Chou grinned painfully as he spoke, but Old Moe just smiled.
"Since you know what kind of man I am, John Chou, unless I am utterly defeated, your death is certain."
Old Moe shouted, and raging flames seemed ready to break free from the dark red bloodlines.
"Heh, what if a third hand appears now, Martin Lane?"
As soon as John Chou finished speaking, Old Moe burst into laughter.
Suddenly, my mind buzzed—I understood what John Chou meant. Old Moe whipped his head around and glared at me.
"Silk Weaving Arts—north, south, east, west—seal the ghosts..."
The Crimson Veil binding me suddenly whipped upward. My shadow, which had left my body, was instantly grabbed by a hand formed from the Crimson Veil.
We were all at our limits—the three of us: myself, Old Moe, and John Chou.
"So useless, Zhang Qingyuan."
At that moment, a voice echoed in my mind. It reminded me of the Lord Wraith incident, of the time inside the Rakshasa Tree when I first grew wings and dodged Lord Wraith's attack. It wasn't my own will—someone else seemed to be controlling me.
Bang—the Crimson Veil binding me split open. A white hand burst through the white silk. Old Moe's eyes widened, then with a punch, the white hand smashed through Old Moe's ribs.
Old Moe spat out a mouthful of blood, and in that instant, John Chou burst out laughing. The bloodlines surged toward Old Moe's wound, and the Phoenix Blade in his hand vanished.
"Everyone, stop!"
I shouted, and just as the dark red bloodlines were about to reach Old Moe, John Chou suddenly withdrew the Rage Blood. At that moment, the four surrounding pillars rumbled and began sinking into the ground.
The bindings on my body vanished, and the white hand that had emerged from me disappeared as well. John Chou laughed loudly.
"Old Moe."
I spread my black wings and caught Old Moe, then slowly descended to the ground.
Old Moe's face was pale, his body restored to normal. Blood streamed from the gaping wound in his ribs. I stared in horror, wanting to stop the bleeding.
"It's nothing, Qingyuan. I won't die from such a minor wound."
"Enough already, damn you, Martin Lane." John Chou said as he came over, then collapsed to the ground, exhausted.
I held Old Moe as he chuckled. At that moment, orange light glowed at his wound, slowly healing it. He pushed me away, sat up, and reached into his clothes, pulling out a fist-sized, translucent glass orb.
Faintly, a red glow shone from the orb. Instantly, I felt as if I were in an ice cellar, shivering uncontrollably.
"That's enough, Lord of the Seventh Tribunal. I've fought this hard—there's no way I can win."
As soon as Old Moe finished speaking, I heard a solemn, slightly deep voice.
"Hmph, Martin Lane, I see you. Your business will have to wait. John Chou."
Suddenly, that voice roared from the red-glowing glass orb.
"Oh? Isn't this Lord Tai Shan of the Seventh Tribunal? Old man, I'm just a wandering ghost now. Why not stay in your tribunal and torment souls as you please? Why go to all this trouble, scheming for so long, and send Martin Lane to kill me?"
John Chou laughed easily. I stared in shock at the red-glowing orb—was that really Lord Tai Shan of the Seventh Tribunal? I couldn't believe it; I was utterly stunned.
"Enough talk, John Chou. This is just a warning. If you behave yourself, I won't pursue your crimes. But if you remain stubborn, I'll make you disappear for good."
"Big words for an old man. I warned you back then—don't let me out of Avici Hell. You all heard it. You tortured me, and now you won't even let me cause trouble? Who made that rule? This time you nearly killed me, and now you threaten me? Old man, if you really want me dead, come do it yourself..."
The ease vanished from John Chou's face. Clenching his fist, his whole body radiated dark red light as he glared at the orb, murderous intent emanating from him—a standoff with Lord Tai Shan across the void.
"If you want a fight, then come. Stop with the tricks. Even if I'm suppressed by the Sanzu Force, listen up, all of you from the underworld: push me any further, and you'll bear the consequences."
John Chou spoke with finality. I stared wide-eyed, then looked at the red-glowing orb.
"Old Moe, does that old man have something on you?" The moment I spoke, a crushing force slammed me to the ground. I felt my bones shatter and screamed in pain.
Old Moe was pinned to the ground too, his body unbearably heavy. John Chou's legs trembled as he braced himself, arrogance on his face and a mocking smile at the corner of his mouth—he showed no fear of Lord Tai Shan.
"Ignorant child—Zhang Qingyuan, isn't it?" Lord Tai Shan said, and I felt a pair of piercing eyes staring at me.
I couldn't make a sound, as if I were being pinned to the ground by an invisible hand.
Suddenly, a flash of purple light—Mona Ouyang appeared before the red-glowing orb, reaching out her hand, completely unfazed.
"Old man, in my domain, you don't get to run wild."
Crack—the red glow faded from the orb, which began to split apart.
"Mona Ouyang, you—"
Snap—the orb shattered, turning to dust. I screamed in agony. At that moment, Old Moe shone with orange light, stood up as if nothing was wrong, crouched before me, and pressed his hand to my forehead. Instantly, the pain vanished. I got up, gasping, and stared at Old Moe.
"Martin Lane, the show is over. Get off my turf." Mona Ouyang said, turning to glare at me, then at John Chou, raising a finger.
"Damn it, John Chou, are you trying to start a war with the underworld? Get out—get off my turf now!"
"Alright, Mona Ouyang, thanks for what you did back there. That old man is terrifying—just needed to provoke him a little. He'll probably keep quiet for a while now."
Suddenly, I realized something. I looked at Old Moe, then at John Chou. After Mona Ouyang vanished, John Chou had mentioned there was another act to come.
"You were putting on a show..."