Tang San Follow the scarlet on your wrist.
The fragments of the iron leaf were embedded in the flesh, getting deeper and deeper with each step.
He didn't pull it out, he just walked away.
Blood seeped out from the wound, dripped down the fingertips, and dripped on the dead leaves, making a slight "tap" sound, like a leak.
The forest was getting denser and denser, the tree crowns blocked the moonlight, and even Purple Demon Eye couldn't see the road clearly.
But he didn't need to see clearly, scarlet was leading the way, like a red-hot thread, tying his wrist and pulling it to the darkest place.
Then he arrived.
It's not an open space, it's a piece of burned earth.
There are no trees or grass in the area of a hundred feet, only black ashes and white bones exposed in the ashes.
The wind blew from the north, carrying an old fishy smell, not blood.
It's the smell of rust mixed with rotting meat that has been buried underground for a long time.
In the center of the scorched earth, stood a stone.
It's not black, it's brown after being soaked in blood and dried.
The surface is covered with patterns, not words, but scratched out by fingernails.
One after another, the deep ones are as wide as a finger, and the shallow ones are only white marks.
Tang San stands in front of the stone.
Clear Sky Hammer solidified in the hand, Eight Spider Lances popped out from behind, all eight of them opened.
But the tip of the spear was shaking, not because of fear, but because of excitement.
They felt that there was a vitality here that was stronger than that of the wind baboon, or in other words, a death energy that was stronger than the vitality.
"Kneel down."
The sound came from the stone, like someone talking against the stone wall, muffled and reverberating.
Tang San did not kneel.
He stood, holding the handle of the hammer, the old wound in the tiger's mouth hurting.
"I won't kneel."
The stone cracked and slowly parted in the middle, like a door.
There was no light behind the door, only deeper darkness and a fishy smell.
That's not the smell of blood, it's the smell of corpses that have been piled up on the battlefield for thousands of years being dug out.
Tang San Go inside.
The door closed behind him.
The darkness swallowed up everything, and even his own breathing could not be heard.
The labor pains came... not the pain of flesh and blood,
It's the pain of having bones torn apart, meridians torn, Soul Power being crushed and put back together again.
He knelt on the ground, holding his hands on the ground and digging his nails into the soil.
It's not dirt, it's a mixture of ashes and iron filings, cold and gritty.
He wanted to shout, but no sound came out of his throat.
Only blood surged up, overflowed from the corners of his mouth, and dripped on the ground.
It makes a slight "chi" sound, like water dripping on a red-hot iron plate.
Clear Sky Hammer was suspended above his head.
The hammer began to rotate, very slowly, and then faster and faster.
Dark red light seeped out from the hammer body, like blood seeping out of the pores.
The fifth channel Soul Ring is condensing.
It's not the ordinary Soul Ring light, it's dark red, like coagulated blood, like burnt charcoal.
Like the last ray of murderous intent on the battlefield that has not dissipated.
It did not come from Soul Beast, but from the dead souls in this scorched earth.
It comes from the smell of killing, from Tang San's own blood and pain.
The moment Soul Ring fell, Tang San's body stiffened suddenly.
The meridians were reshaped, the hidden wounds were burned away, the cracks were welded, and the overdrawn emptiness was forcibly compacted.
The crimson that gushes out from the depths of Eight Spider Lances rushes along the burned meridians, pouring into the river like magma,
Wherever it passes, the old siltation is washed away, and the new wall is branded with a dark red film.
His body has returned to its peak state, even stronger than it was at its peak.
Every inch of muscle is filled with strength that does not belong to him, and every bone seems to have been reforged, making it so hard that it becomes brittle.
But some things were burned too.
He thought of Xiao Wu, and the first time she smiled at him, in the work-study dormitory of the Nuoding Academy.
But he couldn't remember the specific look of that smile. He only remembered the fact that "she smiled".
Like a painting that has been soaked in water, the colors are still there but the outlines are blurred.
He thought of Blue Silver Grass and the morning dew on its leaves when it emerged from the palm of his hand.
But I can't remember whether the dewdrops were cool or warm. I only remember the information "there is grass".
The feeling is still there, but the details are gone.
Eight Spider Lances slowly gathered behind him.
They changed, changing color from blue-violet to a mixture of dark red and faint blue, like solidified blood and frozen fire.
A barb grew from the tip, like a scorpion's tail needle.
They became quiet and obedient, like completely tamed poisonous snakes, no longer aggrieved.
No longer trembling, just waiting for his order quietly.
He stood up and stretched his shoulders.
The joints made a crisp sound, like newly forged iron being quenched.
"Not enough."
The voices came again, coming from all directions, like stones talking, but also like talking in his own head.
"There's something in your body that's blocking it."
Tang San looked down at his hands.
There are residual marks of Blue Silver Grass on the palm, light blue, like birthmarks, like unwashed ink.
That is the last mark of Blue Silver Emperor Bloodline, left to him by his mother.
"Pinch it," the voice said.
Tang San Looking at the light blue mark, he clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms.
Dark red Soul Power gushes out from the meridians, like fire, like acid, like some kind of greedy digestive fluid, wrapping around the blue mark.
Blue Trace is shrinking.
Retreat from the palm to the wrist, and from the wrist to the crook of the elbow, like a snake being chased.
But it was unable to retreat, and the dark red Soul Power caught up with it, wrapped it up, and burned it.
No light, no debris, no sound.
It's just that the blue marks have faded and disappeared from the skin, as if they had never existed.
Tang San Open your palms and make them clean.
He looked at this hand for a long time, and suddenly felt that it was strange.
It's not that the hand has changed, it's that the owner of the hand has changed.
The stone cracked again before him.
It's dawn outside, and the sun is dazzling.
He walked out and didn't look back.
When we walked out of the forest, the sun had already risen very high.
The sunlight made him squint his eyes. He stood on the edge of the official road and looked down at his shoes. They were still the new ones.
But it was already stained with mud, and there were ashes on the trouser legs.
He patted it twice and the mud was patted off, but the traces were still there.
He started walking in the direction of Spirit City.
The pace was very steady, and each step was very solid, as if he was nailing something into the ground.
Clear Sky Hammer is placed across the shoulder, and five Soul Ring are slowly rotating under the feet.
Yellow, purple, black, black, dark red.
The fifth line is dark red, black and red, like blood seeping into ink.
When the sun shines on it, it doesn't reflect light, as if it's been sucked in.
The silhouette of Spirit City appears on the horizon.
The city wall is very high and the city gate is very large. There are two rows of guards standing at the door, their armor glowing coldly in the sun.
Tang San stopped at the inn twenty miles outside the city gate.
He saw the carriage of Shrek, with its curtains lowered. He also saw the motorcade of Huangdou, with the blue flag rolled up on the flagpole.
The two teams were separated by an inn, but they both knew that the other party was there.
He didn't walk over immediately. He stood under a tree on the side of the road, and then took out something from his pocket.
Pink hair rope, he looked at this hair rope for a long time.
Then tie it back to your wrist, so tight that it digs into the flesh, like a tourniquet.
Not a shackle, but an anchor.
Nail the "him" of the present and the "him" of the past together so as not to let the wind blow them apart.
Then walked over.
Xiao Wu was the first to see him.
She jumped down from the carriage, ran two steps, and then stopped.
She looked at him, her lips moved but she made no sound.
Tang San looked at her and smiled.
The curvature of the corners of the mouth is the same as before, but the eyes are not curved.
"I'm back." he said.
The voice is very hoarse, but more stable than before.
Like a piece of iron that has been reforged, the rust on the surface has been worn away, and the texture inside is harder and colder.
That's not the "I'm back" look.
That's the "I'm ready" look.
When Tang San walked past the inn, he saw Huangdou's motorcade from the corner of his eye.
Chen Jieqi was standing next to the horse, tying the reins, and his silver-white hair was blown back by the wind.
The two didn't look at each other.
Tang San did not turn his head, and Chen Jieqi did not raise his head.
But Tang San knew he was there, and Chen Jieqi also knew he was coming.
The wheels turned again, running over the gravel on the official road, making a rumble sound.
Shrek's carriage followed Huangdou, heading for the city gate of Spirit City.
The carriage moved. Spirit City's city gate was getting closer and closer, like a closing mouth.
He closed his eyes.
In the darkness, the outline of Eight Spider Lances moved slightly under the skin, quiet and obedient, like a sleeping snake.