Hou Yi bowed deeply to Su Yang once more, his words sincere: "Thank you, Sage Su Yang, for making this possible!" How perceptive he was—this was a method of creating an incarnation by using one's origin as a guide and borrowing merit to give it form. It was not Severing the Corpse, yet it surpassed Severing the Corpse; though it consumed his own cultivation, it bore the shackles of his tribulation of love for him.
At that moment, his cultivation had fallen from the late stage of the Great Witch realm to the mid stage, and his aura was slightly sluggish. But he did not care in the least. He merely gazed toward Guanghan Palace, his eyes like nails, vows, and brands. After bowing once more, an earth dragon roared into the sky beneath his feet, raising a sea of yellow dust as it raced toward the depths of the Primordial World to seek the merit earned through countless hardships.
Wu Gang watched him leave, then silently turned around and walked beneath a towering lunar osmanthus tree. A cold glint flashed in his hand, and an ancient, unadorned giant axe appeared in his grasp. The axe rose, and the wind howled; the axe fell, and the wood split. Yet just as a deep mark opened in the bark, it healed in an instant, returning to its original state without leaving even a wrinkle. He said nothing and simply swung the axe, then swung it again, once after another, as if time had long since solidified around him.
Su Yang stood motionless for a moment. His gaze swept past the pale figure within Guanghan Palace's window, and his form suddenly faded away, dispersing like smoke and vanishing like mist.
Only on the Lunar Star did the sound of the axe continue—thunk,