Rocks tumbled from the ceiling, firestorms howled through the streets, and the cultists scread as they were flung away by the shockwave.
When the smoke cleared, Lin Mu still stood. His magma armor burned brighter than ever, his claws steaming as they pulsed with energy. Slowly, he raised his head, eyes glowing with molten fire as his voice thundered across the battlefield:
"Your cult ends here."
The leader stumbled back, his saber quivering in his grip, his body slick with sweat. For the first ti, true fear seeped into his scarred expression. "W-What... what are you?!"
Lin Mu grinned, his molten fangs on his helm gleaming through the cracks in his rocky mask. "I am your reckoning."
With a roar, he charged again—this ti not just as a warrior, but as the living embodint of the fury of earth and fla itself.
His claws dug through the leader’s chest in one thrust!
The leader’s wails beca a ragged echo, his body consud by the molten fire that poured through him from Lin Mu’s claws. The flesh, the bone, the marrow... everything was burned down to fine dust.
His shrieks rose higher, then cut short into a choked gurgle as the last vestige of his body turned into a storm of glowing ash, carried away by the oppressive heat that filled the cavern.
But just as the embers began to die down, a sharp streak of light shot out of the disintegrating corpse.
The leader’s Nascent Soul tore free, trembling with desperation, a twisted mask of hatred and fear. It tried to flee, darting upward, but Lin Mu’s magma-coated hand snapped shut around it like a cage of molten iron. The tiny soul writhed, its scream so piercing it seed to reverberate in both the physical and spiritual plane.
Lin Mu’s gaze was cold, yet calculating.
Instead of crushing it, he flicked his wrist and slapped a talisman glowing with golden seals against it. The runes sank into the struggling Nascent Soul, locking it down. It shrieked louder, but it was helpless now, compressed into a trembling orb of light. With a thought, Lin Mu stored it away in his spatial ring.
"Enough of you," Lin Mu muttered under his breath. "Your mories will tell what your ashes cannot."
The battlefield was quiet for a heartbeat, only the bubbling hiss of lava and the crackle of crumbling stone filling the void. Then the sounds of slaughter resud. The last of the cultists were being culled, scattered cries cut short as Daoist Chu and Elyon finished their task, and Cattaleya’s strikes like falling stars tore through the stronger remnants.
She had switched back to her greatsword, now that the biggest threat was gone. She certainly seed to be enjoying crushes foes with it.
Lin Mu’s magma tentacles lashed outward, each blade they wielded humming with sword intent as they finished what little remained. His bow still shone with fiery brilliance, sending the occasional arrow to pierce through a straggler who thought they could flee.
But in the end, one man was left.
He was huddled in a far corner, trembling, his hands raised as though praying to a deity he no longer believed in.
La Yu—his body soaked in sweat, his breath erratic, his eyes wide with a terror that surpassed reason.
He hadn’t fought. He hadn’t even tried to flee. He had simply survived, skittering like a cockroach through the chaos, avoiding both enemy and ally until all had been reduced to corpses and dust.
As Lin Mu approached, the man suddenly threw himself forward, crashing to the ground.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Each kowtow slamd his skull into the scorched stone floor, opening his forehead in a gush of blood. By the third strike, cracks spread across his skull, but he didn’t stop. He groveled, voice breaking with sobs, words spilling out in a panic.
"Spare ! Spare , Senior! I’ll tell you everything! Everything! I won’t hide a single thing ~hic~ I’ll be your dog, your shadow, your worm if you wish it! Please, please! I can be useful! Don’t kill !"
His words were pathetic, but the desperation in his tone was raw. His body shook so violently it was as if he might shatter into pieces just from fear alone.
Cattaleya tilted her head, her lips curling in disdain. She had already raised her blade, its edge shimring faintly as though it yearned to drink blood one last ti. Her eyes narrowed, and she asked simply, "Do you want to cut this coward down?"
But Lin Mu raised his hand, stopping her. His molten armor still glowed, his voice carrying the weight of judgnt.
"No," he said, his tone absolute. "Not this one."
Cattaleya raised a brow, curious. Even Elyon glanced toward Lin Mu with surprise, and Daoist Chu paused mid-step, his sleeve still dripping with the ichor of the slain.
Lin Mu’s eyes didn’t soften, nor did they hold any pity. They were as sharp as blades, as deep as magma pits. He looked at the quivering wreck before him, whose head continued to smash against stone, forehead split open into a bloody ss.
"It’s not rcy," Lin Mu clarified, his voice calm yet carrying through the cavern like a commandnt. "It’s prudence. His mories and his tongue can serve . I already have the leader’s Nascent Soul, but information is best when verified from multiple sources. Lies rot when compared against truth. He’ll live... For now."
The words fell like a verdict, heavy and undeniable.
La Yu pressed his head lower, sobbing as he mumbled his thanks, his blood painting the stone beneath him. His body quaked like a man condemned but granted a single mont of reprieve.
Cattaleya chuckled softly at that, leaning her sword against her shoulder. "Hah. You’re more ruthless than I thought, Lin Mu. Cruel rcy can sotis be sharper than a blade. Keeping him alive might be the worst punishnt for him."
Daoist Chu, however, nodded gravely, understanding the deeper strategy. "With two different sources, the truth will surface no matter what. Clever. And if he dares to lie—" he eyed the trembling man, his aura flaring for just a heartbeat, "—he will regret being spared."
Elyon shuddered faintly, though whether from the sight of Lin Mu’s magma armor or from the thought of his terrifying foresight, none could say.
His heart echoed only one thought: ’This is why no enemy survives facing him. Not even in life, not even in death. He will strip you of everything... even your soul itself.’
Lin Mu said nothing further. He simply turned away, the magma plates of his armor slowly cooling, though the faint veins of lava still pulsed like living blood through it. His swords humd as they returned to his side, and the bow dissolved into motes of fiery light, returning to his ring, until called upon once more.
The cavern was silent once more.
Silent—except for the faint, broken sobs of one coward who had chosen survival over dignity, and who now lived only at the whim of the one who had ended his entire cult.
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