Chapter 381: Hu Tao Lost in Enlightenment
Amidst the chaotic fray, everything moved in a blur. Hu Tao had just vaulted clear of a crackling electric net, her boots hitting the ground as thick clouds of smoke and pulverized concrete swallowed her vision. Gripping the Staff of Homa tightly, a sudden, inexplicable jolt surged through her chest.
It wasn't some premonition of the Hati Hound's next attack—the dust was far too dense to track the beast's movements. Instead, the sensation originated from the heavy polearm anchored in her grasp.
The crimson flame dancing upon the spear's tip flared. A steady, rhythmic warmth bled through the dark metallic shaft and into her palms. It felt alive, pulsing with a will of its own. It gently coaxed her movements, transmitting an ancient, deep cadence directly into her veins.
The sensation defied language. It wasn't a voice or a command, but a primordial guidance branding itself onto her very soul.
Hu Tao didn't hesitate.
In the heart of a volatile battlefield, she surrendered to the intuition of her destined weapon. She halted her pursuit, planting her feet firmly against the rubble. Her hands tightened around the shaft. The chaotic clamor of the fight, the choking smoke, the roaring Ethereal—it all melted away. Her plum-blossom eyes narrowed with razor-sharp focus. All that remained in her world was the spear in her hands and the brilliant spark of enlightenment blossoming in her mind.
The Staff of Homa was no longer just an instrument of slaughter. In her grip, it transformed into a massive calligraphy brush—one capable of judging Yin and Yang, of rewriting destiny itself. She held the polearm with the delicate, deliberate grace of a master calligrapher.
Her body flowed in perfect harmony with her spirit. Her intent bled into the weapon. With a gentle, fluid twist of her wrists, Hu Tao guided the burning spear tip through the thick, dust-choked air.
The motion lacked the explosive ferocity of her usual martial arts. Instead, it possessed a strange, captivating fluidity—a freehand elegance that defied the violence of the battlefield. As the blade carved through the haze, a trail of crimson-gold fire lingered in its wake. The flames hung suspended in the air, following her graceful sweep to outline a flawless, glowing circle.
The moment the ring closed, her momentum didn't falter. The spear tip slashed inward, cutting directly into the center of the fiery halo. Her movements mirrored a soaring dragon and a striking snake, executing iron strokes and silver hooks with absolute precision. Within seconds, a primitive, vigorous character materialized out of thin air, suspended in the center of the ring of fire.
It was the character for "Death" (死).
It radiated an powerful aura, as if it contained the supreme, inescapable principles of heaven and earth.
The instant the final stroke locked into place, the blazing circle and the fiery character flared with blinding intensity. Then, they violently contracted. The crimson-gold fire collapsed inward, transmuting into a deep, ghostly blue light that instantly absorbed back into the tip of the Staff of Homa.
The polearm released a low, melodious hum that vibrated through the air. The lingering crimson flames dancing along the blade were completely extinguished, replaced entirely by that cold, bone-chilling phantom blue.
A dozen yards away, hidden within the thick smoke, the fleeing Hati Hound abruptly froze. Its massive limbs locked up mid-stride.
Across the beast's monstrous body, every single laceration left by Hu Tao's previous strikes began to react. Whether they were shallow grazes or deep, bleeding punctures, the residual embers of her attacks underwent a terrifying metamorphosis. The quiet, stinging flames that had been slowly eating away at the Ethereal were suddenly injected with infinite fuel and a merciless will.
They erupted.
Geysers of ghostly blue fire shot several feet into the air, violently bursting from the creature's wounds and instantly engulfing the majority of its hulking frame.
"Awooooo—!!!"
The hound's shriek tore through the plaza. It was no longer a roar of feral rage or mere physical agony. It was a sound steeped in bottomless terror and absolute despair—a pathetic, hollow lament echoing on the absolute precipice of annihilation.
The phantom flames abandoned all restraint. Acting like a starving, ravenous glutton, the blue fire crazily devoured everything it touched. It consumed the beast's corrupted flesh, incinerated its dark energy, and ruthlessly swallowed its chaotic, twisted soul.
The Hati Hound's frantic thrashing weakened at a visible, terrifying speed. Its massive body twitched violently, withering and collapsing inward under the merciless cremation of the blue flames.
A short distance away, Zhongli halted his advance. He had been preparing to pursue the fleeing creature, but his boots now remained firmly planted on the cracked pavement. A rare flash of undisguised surprise rippled through his glowing golden eyes as he stared at the young Director.
Up on a nearby high vantage point, Venti slowly lowered the barrel of his sniper rifle. The playful breeze surrounding the bard stilled, and his bright emerald pupils contracted into sharp pinpricks.
In that fleeting moment, both ancient Archons had clearly captured it. Radiating from Hu Tao's seemingly simple calligraphy was a faint, yet terrifyingly real fluctuation of a fundamental "rule."
This was no mere mastery of elemental energy. It wasn't the absolute pinnacle of mortal martial arts, either. It was a power that brushed against the very underlying fabric of the universe—a faint, echoing resonance of the absolute laws governing "termination," "demise," and "Death."
The phantom fire burned with blinding intensity. The Hati Hound's agonizing wails grew weaker, tapering off into a wet gargle before vanishing completely into the crackling roar of the flames.
The beast's massive, corrupted body disintegrated, crumbling into scattering gray ash and the purest ether light particles. Even the hardened parasitic core fused to its spine failed to resist the cremation, dissolving into absolute nothingness alongside its host.
The lesser Ethereals that had been drawn to the alpha's presence immediately scattered, fleeing into the shadows without a trace. All that remained in the ruined plaza was a scorched crater, a layer of fine ash, and several shimmering supply crates scattered across the concrete.
Hu Tao remained frozen in place. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the Staff of Homa. The ghostly blue flames continued to flicker lazily at the tip of the blade, casting a cold, ethereal glow over her pale features.
Her mind raced, replaying the sequence with crystal clarity. She had simply surrendered to that strange, magnetic pull. She had waved her spear to "write" upon the canvas of reality, and in response, her enemy had been instantly reduced to ash by an eruption of phantom fire.
The sheer devastation of that single strike far exceeded her wildest expectations. In truth, it eclipsed her own understanding of her abilities.
Yet, as she stood amidst the settling dust, a sensation far more intense and deep than mere awe took hold of her.
The exact moment the character for "Death" had formed and the blue flames had erupted, it felt as though she had stopped merely wielding a weapon. Instead, she had reached out and brushed her fingertips against something impossibly ancient. It was a core truth, something buried deep beneath her bloodline heritage and the thousand-year sacred duties of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
A trace of that primordial "rhythm"—a cadence dripping with the heavy weight of "inevitability" and the "absolute end"—had been permanently branded into her perception through the metal of her spear. She had touched a fragment of the universe's absolute laws.
The law of Death.
The countless secret techniques, the ancient burial rituals of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and even her own intimate understanding of the Boundary between Life and Death—all of it stirred. Awakened by this external rhythm, her lifelong knowledge began to vibrate, producing a strange, harmonious resonance within her soul.
A flood of vague images washed over her mind's eye. Disjointed aphorisms and shattered fragments of realization regarding "passage," "requiem," and the "boundary" flashed violently in her consciousness. They collided in a blinding storm of insight before slowly settling into a deep, heavy silence.
She slipped entirely into a peculiar state of enlightenment. The physical world around her blurred, the sounds of the ruined city fading into white noise. Every ounce of her focus dove into the lingering echoes of that mysterious law of Death, desperately attempting to capture and comprehend it, even if she could only grasp a fleeting glimpse.
A soft breeze swept through the plaza as Venti leaped lightly from his high vantage point. He glided down, his boots touching the cracked concrete without making a single sound. With a quick motion, he collapsed his Wind Glider. The bard cast an appreciative glance at the shimmering supply crates scattered across the battlefield, letting out a low, cheerful whistle at the bountiful harvest. Then, his bright eyes shifted toward Zhongli.
His old friend stood perfectly still, positioned just a few paces away from Hu Tao like a silent guardian. Zhongli's gaze was locked onto the young Director, observing her deep trance. The former Geo Archon's brows were drawn together in a slight frown. Within his glowing golden eyes swirled a rare, deeply complex storm of emotions—a mixture of quiet gratification, heavy solemnity, and obvious worry.
"What's wrong, Zhongli?" Venti strolled over, gently nudging the taller man's arm with his shoulder. His tone carried its habitual, breezy lightness, though a thread of genuine curiosity laced his words.
"Why the long face? Director Hu managed to brush against the power of universal laws at such a remarkably young age. Sure, she had a little help from her weapon and the extreme pressure of the moment, but shouldn't talent and opportunity like that be celebrated? If anything, you should be treating us to a drink."
Zhongli finally tore his gaze away from the girl, turning his head to look down at Venti. After a long, heavy silence, he spoke. His voice was several degrees deeper and more resonant than usual.
"I am happy for her, naturally. Director Hu's talent is truly exceptional. She has far exceeded even my highest expectations. It is just..."
He trailed off, his golden eyes drifting back to the ghostly blue flames still licking the edge of Hu Tao's spear.
"The domain of 'Death'... it is a power that is far too heavy, and far too dangerous. I do not know if allowing her to touch upon it at this stage in her life is a blessing... or a terrible curse."
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