Martial Soul Body of the End

He braced both hands against the tiled wall and simply stood there.

Suddenly, he straightened his back, letting the water cascade over his body as he slowly turned to face the mirror. Only now did he have the leisure to examine the Martial Soul he had awakened.

With a thought, soul power surged from within his body. The next moment, the reflection in the mirror revealed a physique shimmering with purple-gold patterns.

Those glowing lines seemed to have grown from his very bones, spreading from his chest to his limbs; they were not painted on his skin, but fused into his flesh and blood.

Behind him, a deep purple phantom slowly rose. Its outline was blurred, yet it carried a suffocating sense of oppression. The instant the phantom opened its eyes, the mirror surface cracked silently, fine fissures spreading outward from the center.

Lin Qingzhou clenched his fist slightly, and a terrifying sense of power swept through his entire body. He couldn't help but let out a long breath, feeling an immense sense of relief in his heart.

The Martial Soul he possessed perfectly matched the descriptions of Body Martial Souls in the original work; perhaps this was the miraculous nature of Martial Souls.

Having only just mastered his Martial Soul, Lin Qingzhou naturally understood its name in his heart.

Body of the End.

Lin Qingzhou slowly retracted his Martial Soul and exhaled a breath of stale air, as if to vent all the pent-up frustration in his heart.

He did not know what his current soul power level was; after all, he was a full three years behind others, and he didn't know if he could catch up in his future cultivation.

The sound of the water was loud, drowning out the roar of the ocean waves outside the window. For the first time in over a month, he was taking a hot shower.

When he finished and stepped out, the sky had turned completely dark. Lin Qingzhou changed into clean clothes, rummaged through his storage Soul Tool for a few compressed biscuits and a bottle of water, and sat on the small sofa by the window to fill his stomach.

The compressed biscuits were dry and hard, chewing like gnawing on sandpaper, but he didn't care. As long as it was edible, it would do.

Outside the window, the dark sea was boundless. Fragments of moonlight rose and fell with the waves, scattering and gathering, gathering and scattering. The cruise ship sailed steadily southward, leaving Proud Arrival City further and further behind.

He thought of Na'er.

It wasn't the kind of thought that brought deep, agonizing grief, but rather a hollow, aching longing.

He thought of her while showering, while eating, and while sitting and watching the sea.

If Na'er were still here, she would probably be running around the floor barefoot, tossing the snow-white quilt on the bed into a chaotic mess.

Then she would lie by the window, pointing at the sea outside and asking one question after another: "Brother, what island is that? Brother, are there fish in the sea?"

He would probably tell her not to mess up the quilt, then walk over to watch with her.

But she wasn't there. The room was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the low murmur of the distant waves.

He finished the last bite of the compressed biscuit, took a sip of water, and slowly exhaled the tightness in his chest. Then, he picked up the remote and pressed the power button on the television.

The screen lit up, switching to a news channel. A female anchor in formal attire sat behind the broadcast desk, her voice steady and devoid of emotion as she read from the teleprompter.

"Regarding the Proud Arrival City attack, the Federal Military released the latest bulletin this morning. The bulletin states that the attack was planned and executed by a roving organization of Evil Soul Masters, and the main leaders were successfully eliminated by federal garrison forces during a firefight last night."

"The attack resulted in nearly a thousand civilian casualties, and the Federal Government expresses its deepest condolences. Post-disaster reconstruction in Proud Arrival City has now fully commenced, and the Federal Military has dispatched two additional divisions to the eastern coast to ensure such incidents do not recur."

Nearly a thousand! Nearly a thousand. The street he had seen with his own eyes had been lined with white sheets—far more than that number.

What he had heard in the mining area outside the city was a "bloodbath in Proud Arrival City," and what he had seen on the streets were deep craters blasted by level-nine soul cannon shells.

What he had felt overhead was the collision of soul power at the Title Douluo level.

It was a pressure capable of shattering the glass of half a street. That battle was certainly not something that could be summarized by "successfully eliminated."

He remembered it clearly. The blood-red mist in the city center churned all night, not dissipating until dawn. The defensive system of the Spirit Pagoda branch had been blasted open by a level-nine soul cannon shell.

The Title Douluos stationed there and the high-level combatants of the Evil Soul Masters had clashed in the sky, each collision sounding like thunder. And the few Evil Soul Masters he had fought to the death on the street were merely the lowest-level cannon fodder among them.

Then the news told them that only three hundred people had died. The main leaders had been eliminated. Reconstruction had begun. Everything was under control.

The anchor on the screen had already moved on to the next story, talking about the Federal Parliament passing a new urban construction bill, a perfectly measured smile on her lips.

Lin Qingzhou stared at the screen for a long time, clutching the remote, saying nothing. A feeling he couldn't quite name surged up from his stomach—it wasn't just anger.

Anger was too simple.

What he felt was more like a stifling frustration... You had seen it with your own eyes, experienced it yourself, and nearly died on that street.

Then someone tells you that it was no big deal, everything is fine, the Federation is powerful, and everyone should rest easy.

He knew what the Federation was doing. Level-nine soul cannon shells had been used, the city defense system had been breached, and Title Douluo-level Evil Soul Masters had slaughtered their way in for an entire night. He didn't know how it ended, but it certainly wasn't as trivial as the federal news made it sound.

If the whole truth were revealed, the entire eastern coast would be in an uproar. So they suppressed the information, changed the numbers, and claimed the Evil Soul Master leaders had been eliminated.

Whether they had been eliminated, Lin Qingzhou didn't know. But he knew that the people on this cruise ship, chatting and laughing with wine glasses in hand, would likely never know what really happened in Proud Arrival City that night.

Anger was useless. He understood this truth better than anyone.

Having died so many times in those Ruins of the Divine War, the first thing he learned was that when you lack strength, anger is the most worthless thing of all.

Di Tian only needed a finger to crush him, Gu Yue only needed a thought to kill him, and the Federation only needed a bulletin to suppress a story. All he could do was survive and grow stronger.

Begging others was useless, forever useless. If you beg the Federation for justice, the Federation will gag you.

If you beg the strong for mercy, they won't even bat an eyelid before crushing you. Having swung a hammer in the blacksmith shop for so many days and nights, he had long since understood this principle.

He placed the remote on the coffee table and stood up to walk to the window. The sea outside was still dark, but on the distant horizon, a faint glimmer of light appeared.

That was the direction of Southsea City.

He pressed his hand against the cold glass, the silver-purple light in his eyes slowly rotating in the darkness. Once he had the strength, he would leave none of them behind.

What he did not notice was that in the shadows of the corridor outside his room, a pair of eyes were staring fixedly at his back through the half-open ventilation window.

The gaze remained motionless in the darkness, like a coiled snake, its breathing suppressed to be extremely light and slow.

Lin Qingzhou pulled the curtains shut and turned off the lights.

In the darkness, there was only the sound of the waves and the low, deep hum of the engines in the distance.