The colossal vertical pupil of the Dark Holy Dragon that Long Xiaoyao had become suddenly contracted. A fierce sense of mortal peril made him not dare be the least bit careless.
His massive dragon maw snapped open. The darkness between heaven and earth around him surged as if drawn by a black hole, madly converging into his mouth, compressing and spiraling.
At last, a pitch-black sphere of dark energy—inky as spilled ink, as if it could devour all light and hope—formed in his throat.
It was like a miniature black hole, radiating a terrifying gravity. Even the surrounding space violently warped and collapsed under its presence.
At the very instant Karna hurled forth that spear compressed with the power of a star—
"Rooaaar!!!"
Long Xiaoyao let out a thunderous dragon's roar. The ultra-condensed dark energy sphere erupted, transforming into a jet-black pillar of annihilation over a hundred meters in diameter. It tore the sky asunder; all things withered along its path as it roared up to meet the falling Spear of the Sun.
But that was not all.
At the same instant the pure-black pillar surged forth, an abrupt blood-red beam stinking so strongly of gore it was nauseating suddenly lanced out from beneath the Dark Holy Dragon's massive body.
Sinister and razor-sharp, it appeared without warning, even ripping through space itself. With uncanny precision it interwove and fused with Long Xiaoyao's black beam.
A black-and-crimson torrent of destruction, entwining ultimate darkness with filthy evil, burst forth with doubled might, hurtling toward Karna.
"Death God's Light!"
Ye Xishui's voice rang out, icy and grave.
She hovered in midair. Behind her, the eerie and terrifying tenth-rank soul tool—the Death God Tower—was roaring at full tilt. The tower's body flared with a ghostly, baleful green glow as countless twisted, pained, wailing resentful spirits overflowed like a tide, screaming with soul-rending shrieks.
Without hesitation she burned the vast power of accumulated wraiths she had gathered over decades, pouring all of it into this blood-colored beam that signified death and ending. Following Long Xiaoyao's attack, she swore to drag the Son of the Sun into the abyss of death.
Black dragon's breath and scarlet deathlight—the two apex forces of this world merged. Wherever they passed, space shattered like fragile glass, revealing the chaotic void currents beyond.
And the Spear of the Sun descended like the meteor of Judgment Day, bearing an absolute momentum that would incinerate all things.
"BOOOOM——!!!!!!!"
At the instant the three finally collided—
Time seemed to freeze.
Then endless light and heat devoured everything. Vision was drowned entirely in pure white and blazing gold. The entire imperial palace district, and even lands far beyond, were instantly submerged by that ultimate radiance.
There was no deafening blast as one might expect; instead, an eerie, suffocating silence—every sound was swallowed and annihilated by the raging energies at the core of the collision.
Then—
A terrifying shockwave capable of rending the earth awoke like a slumbering world-ending beast. From the point of impact it rippled out in a perfect ring, raging in all directions.
Rock, steel, soul-guide alloys, the remnants of buildings—every tangible thing in this world lost all meaning before this energy maelstrom. All melted, broke down, and finally vaporized.
Space itself was torn open into hideous black fissures. Matter was reduced to its most primordial particles amidst the energy storm.
The entire imperial palace district seemed erased from the earth. In its place rose from the ground a violent, newborn sun.
Even the clouds high above were instantly ignited by the horrific heat, turning the sky over Mingdu into a boundless sea of flames, casting the whole heavens in an apocalyptic glow.
Mingdu, today, was fated to be remembered in disaster and ruin.
From the dusk-colored Heaven-Piercing Sword Pillar, to the pulse beam of Star Roar that tore the firmament, and now the clash between Karna and two of the continent's peak Limit Douluo… each impact was power enough to wipe the grand capital from the map entirely.
It could be foreseen that when this brutal melee—entangling myriad factions and countless powerhouses—finally ended, Mingdu, once the symbol of the Sun–Moon Empire's glory and prosperity, would be no more.
Be it the resplendent palaces, the bustling streets, or those edifices bearing endless history and culture… all would be reduced by one cataclysm after another into a pale wasteland buried under churning magma and dead ash, silently testifying to the cruelty and savagery of this war.
"Not good!!"
Several kilometers away, Kong Deming snapped his head toward the imperial palace, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
He had long sensed the extremely violent, unsettling energy fluctuations from that area and knew a powerful foe was attacking the palace's core.
But he had not been overly worried—by Xu Tiannan's side stood Long Xiaoyao and Ye Xishui, two Limit Douluo who stood at the very summit of the continent. It should have been ironclad.
After all, even he, Kong Deming, had no certainty of killing that deep-minded regent under the joint hands of Long and Ye.
Yet now, the light and heat that suddenly erupted and swept in like a tsunami were terrifying in magnitude, completely beyond his expectations.
Even at such a distance, he could clearly feel the burning pain on his skin as if set alight.
The intruder… was no ordinary strongman!
This was an out-of-spec existence truly capable of threatening Xu Tiannan's life—perhaps even troublesome for Long Xiaoyao and Ye Xishui.
With almost no hesitation, a sharp light flashed in Kong Deming's eyes. He made his decision in an instant.
The Silvermoon Divine Light Shield he wore—crystallization of the Sun–Moon Empire's highest soul-guide technology—burst forth with unprecedented splendor. Streams of silver radiance coursed like living things, forcibly tearing open the solid space ahead and forming a twisting, humming spatial rift.
He did not even glance back at the battlefield behind him. Without hesitation he leapt into that dangerous crack in space. His figure was swallowed by silver light and vanished, racing toward the palace's core at the fastest possible speed.
Since he had already placed his bet on Xu Tiannan, he would not allow this regent to die lightly before the final outcome was decided.
Xu Tiannan's life and death directly affected his future plans and the empire's stability.
…
"Hey, hey… you're just going to run? That's no fun at all."
Tartaglia scratched his short orange hair in frustration. Watching the rapidly healing rift fade away without a trace, he pouted in boredom.
Still, he had no real interest in wading into the muddy waters of the imperial palace—for him, guarding some deep-minded regent he didn't know couldn't compare to finding a worthy opponent and having a good fight.
Just then, clear, steady footsteps sounded from not far behind him.
Tartaglia turned instinctively.
When his gaze fell on the familiar figure walking toward him, all his gloom and laziness were replaced in a hundredth of a second by pure, unbridled joy.
His ice-blue eyes lit up astonishingly, as if stars exploded within.
"Master, it's actually you?! This is… an unexpected delight!"
He practically bounded forward a few steps, excitedly flexing his knuckles with crisp crackles. Unseen, fighting spirit and lightning began to surge around him, while a pent-up, blazing flame burned in his eyes.
"I finally get to see you again. I haven't been slacking these years—I've gotten strong enough—so strong that this time, I'll definitely make you… use both hands."
The joy of reunion took only a small corner of his heart. More than that was the long-suppressed excitement and competitiveness—his yearning to cross blades once more with his teacher at full strength.
He craved to prove his growth, to win the recognition of his strongest mentor—and the only way to earn that recognition was battle.
"Master…?"
Bai Xiuxiu stood quietly half a step behind Skirk, blinking her ocean-blue eyes at the unfamiliar boy whose emotions had surged sky-high and whose fighting spirit rolled like the sea.
Skirk had never told her she had another disciple—let alone one who looked every inch the battle maniac.
"Mm."
Skirk's expression remained as calm as water, as if the wildly excited Tartaglia before her was no different from a stone by the roadside.
Frost coiled lazily around her slender fingertips and instantly condensed into a crystal-clear, razor-keen longsword of ice.
She knew her disciple's nature too well. The moment he opened his mouth, the words "let's fight" were written plainly across his face.
"He's a disciple I took in my early years—Tartaglia. By order, you should call him senior brother."
"So she's a junior sister?"
Only then did Tartaglia glance at Bai Xiuxiu behind Skirk. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes—who'd have thought his always solitary master would accept another disciple in this other world?
But the surprise was instantly drowned beneath a greater swell of battle fervor. He waved a hand casually, his tone carrying a matter-of-course arrogance verging on brash.
"Junior sister, step back a bit. Find a safe spot and enjoy the show. When I fight Master, if you get hurt by accident, that'd really spoil the fun."
Skirk wasted no words.
She simply raised that soul-freezing ice sword, the cold, slender tip pointing straight at Tartaglia's heart.
With that single motion, an extreme, bone-deep sword chill spread out. Within tens of meters, the temperature plunged; a thick layer of hoarfrost glazed the ground in an instant.
Even the moisture in the air froze, whirling into falling snow.