Song Ting barely maintained the last shred of consciousness in his dragon form.
Transforming into a dragon consumed more than any of his other forms. At this moment, his Sacred Breath was nearly exhausted, and the dragon body's healing speed was far too slow to keep up with the frequency of Blood Baleful's attacks.
For the last time, he drove the dragon's maw to gather the remaining golden dragon breath, intending to stake everything on one final desperate strike.
Blood Baleful had already descended.
He fell from midair above the golden dragon's head, gripping the greatsword in reverse, its point facing downward as he drove it down with all the last and densest Killing Intent in his body.
The blade pierced through a gap in the golden dragon's brow scales, passed through its skull and brain, and emerged beneath its lower jaw, nailing the entire dragon head to the floor of the Arena.
The golden dragon's body suddenly went rigid, then slackened. The golden light in its eyes snuffed out in that instant, like a lamp blown out.
The enormous dragon body began to dissipate from its edges into specks of golden light, shedding its scales bit by bit, then its flesh, then its bones.
In the end, it returned to Song Ting's original human form.
That gaudy multicolored robe had long since been torn to tatters. He lay flat on his back on the floor of the Arena.
A thumb-thick bloody hole in the center of his brow gushed golden blood, while his open eyes stared up at the sky.
The light in his pupils slowly scattered away, and the last thing frozen at the corner of his lips was a curve tinged with self-mockery.
Blood Baleful knelt on one knee, supporting himself with the greatsword embedded beside Song