Heart Poison

The sound of shattering echoed in that instant, followed by the whistle of wind.

As he swung his fist, his right arm suddenly swelled. The pulsing muscle fibers expanded as if being inflated, and in a flash, countless knotted muscles enlarged his arm several times over, revealing an almost grotesquely distorted and ferocious appearance.

As Huai Shi dodged, that punch slammed into the ground, and the entire plaza shuddered.

It was as if it had withstood the bombardment of a chariot's main cannon.

Was this a transformation brought about by the fear of the Red Glove in the past, recorded under the supervisor's observation, or something else entirely?

Huai Shi had lost interest. This wasn't the first time he had died under the instructor in this form.

Bullets, firearms, and explosives were utterly ineffective.

It was like a nightmare within a nightmare.

In the memories of the former Red Glove, this instructor, who had cruelly forged him into a weapon, was almost an symbol of invincibility. His strength had been artificially amplified, like a monster.

If not for the Red Glove's absolute certainty that this instructor was merely a normal person, Huai Shi guessed that the instructor's current transformation might have been a complete metamorphosis, sprouting bat wings and goat horns, casually conjuring forbidden spells to destroy heaven and earth.

Fortunately, it was only this degree of transformation, which, for Huai Shi, wasn't too exaggerated—

He reached out, touching the blood on the ground.

Hand of Confinement!

This was the first time he had tried this newly mastered technique in the records.

As the flames of origin essence rose from his fingertips, the blood seemed to churn as if boiling, with gray energy continuously steaming out from it.

Uncountable numbers of corpses and blood had given rise to a fog-like Calamity Ash, shrouding the entire plaza.

Although he didn't know why his soul had been given the strange name "Hand of Confinement" by the Silver Sea, Huai Shi was perfectly clear about its essence. It was a relatively rare conversion type among the major categories, spanning both spiritual and material systems.

And its range was between origin essence and iron.

In other words, it could build a bridge between origin essence, which represented the foundation of the soul within spiritual essence, and iron, which was the most widespread element in matter, enabling arbitrary conversion between the two.

It could be said to be versatile.

That invisible axe was a weapon born from Huai Shi's conversion of the unease and killing intent accumulated over seven years into origin essence, and then transforming it into iron.

And now, Huai Shi, using the Hand of Confinement as a base, was attempting to convert the scattered external origin essence once more.

Thus, countless minute rust-colored iron sands, too fine to be seen by the naked eye, rose from the blood.

They were the essence of destruction.

The Calamity Ash condensed by death.

Accompanied by dry wind and dust, they were carried within the pungent smell of blood and gunpowder, rising rapidly and spreading in an instant.

Distributing all despair and pain equally to everything.

In that moment, a hoarse roar and growl came from the dark mist, and a hurricane howled outwards, but it couldn't disperse the mist that existed between origin essence and matter. A ferocious dark shadow charged towards Huai Shi, unleashing a punch!

Huai Shi dodged sideways, his right hand swinging his dagger and leaving a brutal scar on the giant, deformed arm. Then, the dagger turned, stabbing towards the instructor's neck!

Clang!

The dagger sank into his raised arm, colliding with bone. The sound was like steel hitting steel.

Feeling the heavy breaths like those of a ferocious beast erupting from the instructor's chest, the exertion from such violent power caused him to inhale the Calamity Ash in the air in large gulps. Thus, stimulated by pain and despair, his rage grew even more frenzied.

Like a wild beast.

"How does the despair you created with your own hands feel?" Huai Shi gripped his military knife tightly, staring at the instructor's face through the deformed arm.

His smile was mocking.

"—I'm used to it. Are you?"

Bang!

The massive arm swept past, emitting a low roar that seemed to crush the air. The hurricane almost blew Huai Shi three steps back, but immediately, Huai Shi lunged forward again, towards the instructor who was supposedly impossible to defeat.

His smile was ferocious.

He felt as if he were drunk.

It was as if he felt a deep trance and, at the same time, was incredibly clear-headed. Then, he felt fervor.

It was an indescribable freedom.

It was like the release that came after extreme anger.

When he breathed, he drew the Calamity Ash in the air into his lungs, inhaling the pain of the dead, merging with their despair.

It was as if he had merged with countless deaths.

He had transformed from a recorder and the recorded into one of the records.

He could simultaneously feel the pain of those countless deaths and immerse himself in the despair of those who died in the massacre.

It was as if the souls of those people stood beside him.

Thus, those ephemeral deaths transformed into flames, boiling within his chest. Mixed with his anger, his unwillingness, and his will, they became an inexplicable impulse that erupted from within, engulfing him, urging him to face his opponent, to deliver judgment, and bring true death!

Thus, under the tight grip of the Hand of Confinement, gray flames surged from the blade—a color far grayer and paler than Calamity Ash, a pure substance re-tempered, re-extracted, and re-sublimated from countless despairs and pains.

Pure poison.

It was a toxin extracted from the records of death, the solidified demise of Calamity Ash, condensed to its absolute limit. While it possessed no physical lethality, once inflicted, it would undoubtedly bring the victim's spirit a deathly suffering, as real as the countless times Huai Shi had experienced it.

In that instant, the script on the Book of Destiny subtly shifted. Not only was his [Military Boxing] rapidly ascending in rank, but a new branch also quietly appeared beneath the soul description of [Hand of Confinement]—a soul application it deemed worthy.

—[Heart Poison]!

"That's right, just like that! Blood for blood, tooth for tooth!"

Crow gazed at the boy immersed in madness within the records, chuckling with apparent delight. "Go on, represent death, and take your revenge on the beasts in this dark canyon!

This is your destiny, Huai Shi, the last guardian of Heaven..."

In that moment, Huai Shi's dagger struck.

The deformed instructor roared in agony, his massive arm smashing down, as if breaking Huai Shi's already unfeeling left arm. He didn't falter in the slightest, continuing his near-trance-like advance, scrutinizing the distorted face at close range.

His pitch-black pupils were filled with pure darkness.

Then, the combat knife struck again!

Clang!

Though it was a light combat knife, in the grip of the Hand of Confinement, it sliced through the air with a heavy sound, like a massive axe.

An incredible weight emerged from it, and with Huai Shi's swings, enemy tendons were severed, flesh torn apart, time and time again.

The sound of shattering bones was like firewood breaking under a giant axe.

The instructor roared, clenching his fist, his enormous five fingers splayed, reaching for Huai Shi's face. But the next moment, with a slash of the combat knife, the iron-hued palm was severed between his index and ring fingers.

It split into two pieces.

The blade sank deep into his wrist.

Amidst the searing pain, he saw Huai Shi take a deep breath, then roar and surge forward!

Thunder erupted!

As the combat knife suddenly shattered, the flames of origin essence surged forth, forming the outline of a blade. It advanced inch by inch, unstoppable, irresistibly cleaving that entire arm into two equal halves from the center!

Then, the burning dagger was raised again and brought down!

The deformed arm fell from the instructor's shoulder, landing on the ground. Blood gushed from the wound, splashing onto the plaza where blood had been spilled countless times before.

It mingled with the blood of the suffering old men, the despairing women, and the innocent children, forming the same dim, faded hues upon the barren land.

The instructor shoved him away with all his might, but he couldn't keep his balance, staggering back and falling to the ground.

But Huai Shi pressed forward, gasping, stumbling over corpse after corpse, walking past vacant eyes, leaving a blood-stained silhouette in their fading gazes.

"Thanks to you, I finally figured something out—"

He murmured softly, then abruptly lifted his foot, stomped on the instructor's chest, pinning him back to the ground, letting him struggle in vain.

Finally, he raised his dagger, aiming it at the instructor's neck from a distance.

"The reason I chose to become an Ascendant—"

As if bidding farewell, Huai Shi gravely gazed at the distorted face and told him word by word:

"—was to chop off the dog head of scumbags like you!"

In that instant, as the blade fell, a deep crack appeared on the earth.

Blood gushed from the neck of the headless corpse, flowing along the split, soaking into the parched, barren soil, bringing a rare moisture to the dead land, leaving a sliver of hope for flowers to bloom the following year.

Then, Huai Shi saw the entire world begin to shake.

Everything shattered.

He sank into darkness, only to wake up soon after on his chair, feeling as if he were drained, utterly exhausted and miserable.

Yet, for some reason, his heart felt peaceful and content.

It was as if he had received recompense from that recent, hollow act of revenge.

"Congratulations on clearing the stage."

Crow stood on the table, observing him. "Did you gain anything, Huai Shi?"

"..."

Huai Shi remained silent, unsure how to answer.

In the end, he hadn't truly accomplished anything. It wasn't a salvation, nor could it be called revenge.

Perhaps it had all ended more than a decade ago. All he had done was dislike the original plot, torn up the source material, and written a fanfiction himself.

What could he gain from that?

After a moment of contemplation, he chuckled softly.

"A beautiful dream, at least it had a beginning and an end..."

Saying that, he pushed himself up from the table, his gaze falling on the dagger he had placed there earlier. He couldn't help but pick it up, idly fiddling with it in his hand before tossing it back onto the table.

"As for the rest, consider it a consolation prize..."

With that, he didn't bother looking at anything else and turned to head upstairs.

After staying up all day, he felt dizzy and his vision was darkening, like he was about to die of exhaustion.

Nothing in this world was better than a deep sleep.

If there was, it would be sleeping twice.

"Get some sleep early."

He waved his hand and closed the bedroom door.

The Crow watched the young man's figure disappear up the stairs, then turned back to look at the table.

Under the dim light of the desk lamp, a cheap, free-shipping dagger faintly gleamed with an iron hue, driven into the cracked and peeling varnish of the long table, casting a long shadow.

And where the tip of the blade was embedded, a ghastly scar was clearly visible.

As if struck by an axe.

"Goodnight, Huai Shi."

Sleep well.

The Crow spread its wings and flew out into the hazy night outside the window.

Disappearing without a trace.