133: Chapter 125 Dance of the Rainbow (4/4) 133: Chapter 125 Dance of the Rainbow (4/4) Cold, flowing…
Mist from the top of a kiloter-high cliff gathered on the rocks as dew, and droplets fell on the old man’s forehead.
The slight impact and the cold sensation helped the nearly unconscious Hiliard gather his senses once more.
He mustered his energy, opened his eyes, and saw lightning bolts striking down beside him, turning into gigantic arcs visible to the naked eye, flashing through the air.
The elderly Knight lifted his head, watching the scene unfold.
The intense light from the lightning forced his near-halted thoughts to kickstart, and his gaze gradually turned from vacant to luminous, truly taking in everything before him.
A body that had turned into pitch-black charcoal, and a White Folks boy lying in a pool of water.
The battle had ended.
One had died, and one was still breathing.
Subconsciously wanting to stand up, Hiliard found he could no longer control his legs, he reached down and pinched them, confirming the nerves were intact, but lacking the strength to lift them.
No…
not strength.
It was life.
“Ah, it really is coming to an end.”
Although he had a premonition, realizing that he truly was nearing the end of his life, Hiliard couldn’t help but sigh.
He wasn’t afraid of death.
Rather, he felt as if he had already died.
The Emissary of Death would sever everything about a person in sequence: first, it erodes the will to question the world, then, it warps the spirit that understands the world, and finally, it ages the body that could change the world.
Decades ago, Hiliard had already lost his will to fight, his spirit had dissipated, and his body had decayed to this point, barely able to move.
And everything he and The King had achieved had been twisted, altered, fragnted, and all his disciples and successors had been eradicated…
The only thing left was this sad, pitiable, and detestable half-being.
“Weyges…
you’re just a ghost lingering in the past, although younger in body, your heart is already dead.”
Closing his eyes, Hiliard wasn’t sure if his current mood was one of regret, hatred, or just reflection.
He simply couldn’t help but recall those fragnts of the past, those bright monts, the vigorous shouts of children in the training field, and himself standing on the stage, full of hope, directing and guiding the future successors.
The people who once laughed in those tis were gone; they had all died.
Leaving only Weyges and himself.
Everything had vanished into the wind, like tears in the rain.
——Can I really consider myself a living person?
Or am I just an Undead forced to remain in this world, unable to fade away for decades?
Water droplets slid down the old man’s face, but he revealed a smile instead: “What does it matter?”
“At least for now, I am still alive.”
The aging Knight slowly stood up.
Everyone knows that a Sublimator at the Third Energy Level and above can control their body with their will, bypassing all neural transmission, to achieve ‘Spirit Substance’ direct control of the flesh.
Reducing reaction ti to ‘0’, this technique of controlling the Body’s strength with will, is the essence of Life Spirit Energy.
That is, the incredible miracle that springs from one’s own body, one’s own will.
“Ian…
such a ss, the seeds of the Sumo Liquor Tree…”
Staggering over to Ian, the old man moved the boy’s body with so effort to behind a rock, away from the lightning’s path.
He extended his hand, lifting Ian’s eyelids to check his pupils, then gathered the last trace of Origin Quality in his palm, and pressed it to Ian’s chest.
“Good, not completely dead.”
Noticing that the aqua Spirit Energy Radiance in Ian’s eyes was still flickering, not extinguished, and his heart was still beating, the old Knight’s eyes shimred subtly as he sighed in relief, “The poison from the Sumo Wine has spread through the body and crossed the blood-brain barrier, but the Primordial Seed is of high quality, naturally absorbing a vast amount of toxic Origin Quality, and it is the liver that is sublimating, tily detoxification averted total neural necrosis.”
“However, the toxic excitatory substances in the brain are difficult to eliminate…
If this continues, even if he survives, it will cause permanent sequelae.”
Falling silent for a mont, Hiliard shook his head, “Such a brilliant mind should not be wasted like this.”
At this very mont, strands of azure luminescence began to rise near Sigh Cliff.
Due to several consecutive thunderstrikes, the Thunderhunter Jellyfish in the surrounding waters began to gather spontaneously.
Specks of lightning from all directions converged, flickering, flowing, and swirling, intertwining amidst the pitch-black sea and sky, as if sketching a hazy Milky Way beneath the heavens.
Thousands of Thunderhunter Jellyfish should have been dancing around the peak of Sigh Cliff, sharing their thoughts, souls, and brains here, exchanging their wisdom in the dense, nearly tangible lightning.
The exploding electric arcs and the interlacing streams of light represented a surge of inspiration, a transmission of information, the thought process of a ‘Sublimated lifeform’ like the Thunder Jellyfish Swarm.
It is through such dance and Ritual, as well as the lightning that streaks across heaven and earth, that they truly beco a Cluster Demon Beast.
But today,
this dance suffused with lightning was interrupted.
Thick and swirling in accordance with the moisture and rain clouds, lifting themselves into the sky through magnetic fields, the Thunderhunter Jellyfish did not approach the familiar Sigh Cliff.
Instead, they cautiously, respectfully, even fearfully circled around that direction, hesitating to move forward.
The beasts had retreated.
Because at the cliff top, an old man was burning his last life away.
It was akin to the pressure of a huge dragon or the towering presence of a mountain range.
An unprecedented sight of olden days and perhaps never again in the future, the Sublimator seated on the ‘Master Throne’ ignited his Glory as a being at the apex of the ecosystem, moving among the world of n.
His body burned with the pale golden light of Origin Mist, and the grey traces on his Body rapidly expanded and spread.
Hiliard raised his hand, and without hesitation, plunged it into the wound in his abdon, fearlessly digging deep, tearing Flesh and Blood, enlarging the wound, searching for sothing.
Then, he extracted a ‘core’ that flowed with pure golden halos.
Densely packed to the point where its details were indiscernible, Inscriptions flickered and flowed on the constantly changing and undulating golden core, physical Origin Quality confined within the round sphere reminiscent of liquid tal, just like the physical essence of life itself.
As electric arcs and lightning flickered, brilliant colors diffused at the top of the cliff.
The golden core seed to be the center of the world.
But one could see.
Above the golden core, there was still a small stream of silvery light…
It was a chip, thin as a cicada’s wing, but the complexity of the Runes changing on it was a thousand tis greater than that of the core.
The Inscriptions were so finely detailed that they flickered unpredictably, like countless stars condensed onto the tiny chip, making even the vast Milky Way seem incomparable.
The light shone upon Ian’s eyes, who, lost in a complete stupor, could not react to any of this despite still being alive.
But one could vaguely see.
The reflection in Ian’s eyes was not of any grey, white, blue, purple—none of these common colors.
Not even…
gold.
The color reflected in the aqua Spirit Energy Radiance…
Was an endlessly revolving ‘rainbow’ brilliance!
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