No one saw where that mysterious spear flew from. Light and dark clashed and intertwined at its tip, fierce gusts swirling around the spearhead, pushing upwards into the sky, where a sinister purple magical energy continuously infused into it.
In a single mont, its power reached its peak. It suddenly streaked through the night, like a teor piercing the heavens. This pillar of dazzling light dispersed the gloom covering the opera house!
Moonlight poured into the opera house, and people saw the body of the "Artist" shatter in the silvery radiance. Cracks spread across that dark mask of silence, turning into gray powder drifting in the air. The breath of life rapidly waned, a quality never before seen in its previous deaths.
Xu Xiaoyou let out a long breath, the giant dice behind her fading into a phantom. The speed of the dice’s spinning cald, releasing long streams of steam. All the blood-colored eyes in the void closed, the mockery no more.
Before her return to the Star of Art, Xu Xiaoyou had rolled 1000 points of destiny and designated the effects of the ’Mont of Destiny’ for Angelina, erasing the "Artist" with a single shot into the spearhead.
Tang Xin stood beside her, looking up to et her gaze, cautiously reaching out to interlock fingers with hers, revealing a smile.
What concerned Xu Xiaoyou was,
why this affection plot of the [Girl Falling from the Starry Garden] hadn’t ended with the curtain fall of the grand drama.
In the audience seats, the survivors finally realized their breaths and heartbeats.
Was the "Artist" truly killed this ti?
Such questions naturally arose in people’s minds.
Then, suddenly, an anomaly occurred!
The "Artist’s" body trembled violently, and a black, muddy-like substance gushed out from its fra, sweeping up the shattered mask, and flowing rapidly towards Xu Xiaoyou.
Xu Xiaoyou’s eyes turned sharp, the Hundred Bone Whip materializing in her hands, fiercely striking that mass of black mud, intercepting its path.
Everything happened too abruptly. With the final act of the "Storm Song" arriving, lightning flashed across the sky, as thunder roared when people freed themselves from that blinding white light.
"Be careful..."
The mass of black mud deftly avoided Xu Xiaoyou’s whip at an extrely subtle angle, brushing past her. By the ti she realized its true target, it was already too late.
The blue-haired girl who had held her hand earlier was drawn irresistibly upward by that force, until she reached the theater’s do. The rules of silence transford into endless black breaths entering her body, twisting her limbs, tearing her skin, and finally bending her wings.
After a brief mont of pain, Tang Xin gently closed her eyes, falling from tens of ters high. Xu Xiaoyou took a step forward but was pushed back by the tsunami-like black wave rushing towards her, a layered explosion from the girl’s body.
Tang Xin’s twisted limbs resembled a puppet manipulated at will, raised by invisible threads, her hands suspended mid-air. Deep blue gauze ford a conductor’s string sword. Her elegant black evening gown scattered on the ground, with stardust dancing among its folds.
On her right cheek, a mask of dark silence ford. The once serene, ocean-like tranquility in her left eye now rendered dull and lifeless, leaving only an empty deathly stillness.
An overwhelming eerie aura continuously asserted one fact: the "Artist" was not slain; she returned in another powerful form.
Xu Xiaoyou gazed at the transford Tang Xin, whose face and aura were strikingly similar yet so unfamiliar. Though Xu had never let go of her hand, the other had inevitably plunged into the abyss.
Fragnts of mories shared with the girl surfaced in Xu’s mind like scattered seashells along the shore.
Tang Xin’s dull eyes, her slender index finger resting on the string sword’s hilt, raised. Music sheets flowed around her, encircling the entire opera house’s sky. The waves of sound more ferocious than tsunamis surged repeatedly from beneath the girl, comncing a symphony of destruction with the swish of the string sword.
Everything within a hundred-ter radius centered around the girl began to crumble; massive fissures appeared on the ground, wall cracks spread like a beast’s tear, reaching the do. The audience seats collapsed into the earth, screams and wails echoed within this realm.
Xu Xiaoyou’s gaze trembled. She tried advancing multiple tis, but each ti she was pushed back hundreds of ters by waves of sound from the string sword’s swing.
The sight of tears flowing from the girl’s left eye, congealing into black teardrops at her corners, struck Xu.
At a certain point, all screams and cries ceased. The girl at the storm’s center placed her fingertip on pale lips, gesturing silenced hand symbols. Thousands had sealed zip lines across their mouths swiftly closing shut, unable to utter another moan.
Tang Xin directed her string sword sideways, a noble on the audience seat undergoing an internal collapse, torn inch by inch into pulsating red notes, with agony murmurs lodged in the throat echoing as represented sound. His life stread differently across the opera house’s music sheets.
Tang Xin guided her string sword downwards; another noble attempting escape crushed into blood mist by imnse pressure.
Hundreds of invisible giant hands stretched out from the girl’s gown hem, hovering above her, resembling countless soul-reaping evil ghosts and wronged spirits. Once a faint scent of prey’s blood is detected, they swarm forward, ripping the prey apart.
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