Epiphany Beneath the Moon, Second Move: Flying Star-No Regrets Once the Spear Is Thrust, Only Death, Never Life!

Yang Jian lifted a foot and kicked the butt of the spear. With a piercing howl, the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear he had held upright shifted into a horizontal grip. His entire body arched backward, the force so great that the grinding of his spine cracked audibly. Veins bulged along the arm gripping the spear, writhing like soaring dragons as it moved!

From a third-person perspective, Yang Jian's body had bent into a great bow. That vein-ridged arm was the bowstring, while the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear held horizontally in his hand was the arrow nocked upon it.

"The spear is like a dragon, the moon like a hook. The spear strikes through autumn!"

His deep voice echoed through the forest. The next moment, Yang Jian sprang up and hurled the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear, which carried all of his essence, energy, and spirit.

The spear blade was razor-sharp, hissing as it sliced through the air. A point of crimson light quietly flared to life. At first, it was merely a few scattered sparks, but then it spread like wildfire. Blazing flames instantly engulfed the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear, illuminating a hundred-meter radius.

At that moment, the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear had become a meteor tearing through the night, trailing a molten, flame-tempered tail as it pierced through towering trees so thick that three to five grown men would be needed to encircle them.

The teeth-grating sounds of snapping wood rang out without end. In Yang Jian's sight, more than a dozen towering trees ahead of him crashed down, slamming heavily into the ground. In the darkness, the cries of unknown beasts carried indescribable terror. Rustling sounds rose one after another; no one knew how many Soul Beasts had fled this place in fright from that single strike.

Within a hundred meters of where the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear landed, roaring flames had already erupted, standing out brilliantly in the pitch-black Star Dou Great Forest.

"The second spear strike is complete."

A satisfied smile appeared on Yang Jian's face. He stretched out his arm, trembling somewhat from exhaustion. Guided by Soul Power, the Three-Pointed Double-Edged Spear submerged in the pond quivered lightly before flying back into his palm with a whoosh.

"This move is the second strike of my self-created spear art. It draws upon a meteor streaking across the sky, so I shall call it Flying Star. Once the spear is thrust, there are no regrets—only death, never life!"

After recovering a little strength, Yang Jian cast one final glance at the wreckage before turning and disappearing into the night.

After all, the Star Dou Great Forest had always been a place where Soul Masters and Soul Beasts mingled. There were Soul Master teams that hunted Soul Beasts, as well as bandits who specialized in ambushing lone Soul Masters.

Yang Jian was unafraid, but he had no desire to invite unnecessary trouble.

The night wind swept through the woods, carrying several distant beast roars. Before long, it enveloped this devastated place in silence.

About ten minutes later, three dark figures descended from the sky and landed soundlessly at the edge of the ruins.

The leader was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was handsome, with an innate air of nobility between his brows.

Most eye-catching were the broad wings behind his back. They were not the phantom projection of Martial Soul Possession, but actual wings formed from Soul Power, glimmering with a faint silvery sheen beneath the moonlight.

He landed in the middle of the area, his gaze slowly sweeping over the surrounding scene. His expression remained calm and composed.

The two middle-aged men half a step behind him were even more extraordinary.

Both stood upon empty air, steadily suspended three feet above the ground. Their robes stirred despite the lack of wind, and Soul Power faintly circulated around their bodies.

In the world of Soul Masters, standing in the air without relying on any external force was the hallmark of a Title Douluo.

"Young... Your Highness the Crown Prince."

One of the burly middle-aged men spoke first, his voice hoarse and low.

"This must be where that aura came from earlier."

Ci Xue bowed slightly, his attitude respectful and cautious.

Xue Qinghe nodded faintly, his gaze still fixed on the traces of destruction.

He reached out and gently brushed his hand over the cross-section of a severed boulder. What his fingertips felt was an unbelievably smooth surface.

"What do the two of you think?"

He withdrew his hand and turned to look at the two Title Douluo. His tone was calm, yet carried an unquestionable authority.

"How strong is this person?"

She Long stepped forward and bowed slightly before Xue Qinghe.

He then narrowed his eyes and carefully examined the traces around them. After pondering for a moment, he finally spoke.

"To cause this degree of destruction would require at least the strength of a Soul Saint."

He paused and pointed to a ravine in the ground several feet deep.

"Your Highness, please look. The edges of these marks are smooth, and the force was concentrated without dispersing. This was clearly the result of deliberate control. To accomplish this, the person must not only possess abundant Soul Power, but also extremely precise control over his strength."

He then pointed toward the cleared ground in the distance.

"However, the Soul Power fluctuations here have almost completely dissipated, and the lingering aura is not particularly strong. In this subordinate's estimation, it was likely some Soul Master who successfully broke through to the Soul Saint realm and, in his excitement, casually tested his attack power before leaving."

There was a trace of disdain in She Long's tone.

In his view, it was merely a Soul Saint who had just broken through. To people of their level, such a person was hardly remarkable.

"Someone who has only just become a Soul Saint can cause this much destruction..."

Xue Qinghe repeated the words thoughtfully, his gaze lingering over the ruins for a moment.

"This person could be considered talented."

His tone carried a hint of regret, as though he regretted not being able to see the person's true face.

"Unfortunately, we arrived one step too late."

Ci Xue chimed in from the side.

"Your Highness is right. Though this person has some ability, he ultimately lacks the fortune to serve Your Highness."

His words were tactful. They acknowledged the other person's strength while attributing everything to "fate," sparing Xue Qinghe any concern over it.

Xue Qinghe said nothing. He simply stood there quietly, allowing the night wind to stir his robes.

Moonlight fell over his handsome face, making his contemplative expression especially clear.

After a while, he softly exhaled. The wings behind him spread slightly, glowing with a faint silver radiance beneath the moonlight.

"Let us leave first."

His voice was as calm as still water.

"If fate wills it, perhaps we shall meet again."

The moment he finished speaking, his wings beat once, and his entire body became a dark shadow streaking into the night sky.

Ci Xue and She Long exchanged a glance before both rising into the air and following after him.

The three figures soon vanished into the boundless night, leaving only the still-devastated ruins behind, silently bearing witness beneath the moonlight to everything that had just occurred.

What the three of them did not know was that the person who had caused such destruction was not some powerful Soul Master who had just entered the Soul Saint realm, but a twelve-year-old Quasi-Soul Ancestor who had yet to obtain his fourth Soul Ring.

If they had learned the truth, they likely would not have remained so calm.

A twelve-year-old boy who could unleash Soul Saint-level destructive power through a Self-Created Soul Skill—what did that signify? It signified a variable capable of changing the entire continent's balance of power.