DD Black White [404-405] (Patreon)

Chapter 404: The Death of Tang San

Jing Yuan, who had been standing with arms folded, watching from the sidelines, took it all in.

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, his silver-gray hair rippling in the night breeze.

Bei Bei had sunk completely into that crushing love and the desperate choice forced upon him—no way back, no cure.

"Foolish child..."

He sighed silently in his heart.

But in the end, this was someone else's tangled web of resentment and karma in this world.

He was only a passerby in a foreign land, a witness, not a judge.

So Jing Yuan continued to lean against the rocky slope, eyes half-lidded, as if the killing intent saturating the air and the howls of the undead had nothing to do with him, leaving only a detached quiet beyond the world's clamor.

When Huo Yuhao coldly spat out the word "Kill," the undead army surged forth like a dam-bursting tide of death toward Tang San's group.

Skeletal warhorses thundered; skeletal soldiers heaved like white waves; zombie growls and lich incantations interwove into a requiem of death.

"Hold the formation."

Dai Mubai roared; White Tiger Vajra Transformation burst forth. His body swelled as he planted himself in front, tiger palms smashing several skeletons to pieces.

Zhu Zhuqing flitted like a wraith between gaps in the undead, each swipe of her claws scattering bone shards.

"Nine Treasures."

Ning Rongrong forced down her fear, her Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda flaring with radiance.

"One: Strength. Two: Speed. Three: Soul."

Nine-colored light fell precisely upon each teammate, surging their strength, speed, and soul power.

"I've got a mushroom sausage."

Oscar hurriedly crafted Flying Mushroom Sausages, trying to preserve a sliver of retreat for everyone.

Tang San's face was grim, but madness burned in his eyes.

He moved like wind; Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track flickered amidst the undead sea; his hands blurred.

"Rainstorm Pear Blossom Needles."

"Peacock Plume."

"Buddha Fury Tang Lotus."

Countless exquisite hidden weapons streamed from Tang San's hands, accurate and efficient, piercing soul flames or joint linkages.

Clangs rang incessantly. The undead at the front fell like wheat; the blossoming Buddha Fury Tang Lotus especially reaped swathes of skeletal knights with its brilliant petals.

Yet the undead were too many. One wave fell; another surged up behind—endless.

"Mubai, Zhuqing!"

Tang San shouted.

Dai Mubai and Zhu Zhuqing exchanged a look—perfect tacit understanding.

"Martial Soul Fusion—Nether White Tiger."

A massive black-and-white tiger phantom appeared, bearing the kingly might of beasts and the chill of the netherworld. With a sky-shaking roar, it crashed into the undead army.

Tiger claws swept; nether force exploded. Wherever it passed, skeletons shattered, zombies flew, tearing open a gap in the undead tide.

But that power consumed soul power fiercely; after a round of slaughter, the phantom began to dim.

"Golden Iron Triangle!."

Yu Xiaogang's hoarse yet resolute voice rang out.

Flender's owl-cat, Liu Erlong's fire dragon, and the golden glow from Yu Xiaogang's mutated Luo Sanpao fused in an instant.

A great golden holy dragon soared over the battlefield again. Though dimmer than in its prime, its draconic might still slowed low-tier undead.

The dragon spewed blazing breath, turning a swath into a sea of fire, temporarily halting the undead's advance.

But the holy dragon's appearance drew stronger undead.

Several bone dragons dove and entangled with it; lich curses clung like maggots on bone, continuously sapping the dragon's power.

In the distance, atop a solitary peak—

Lu Jingming stood with hands behind his back, watching the carnage below, eyes calm and unruffled, as if appreciating a drama unrelated to himself.

Firefly stood quietly at his side; Castorice idly toyed with a dead leaf, bored with the slaughter below.

As for Jingliu—at some point, she'd vanished without a sound.

At the battlefield's edge, Jing Yuan seemed to sense something. His deep gaze fell on Bei Bei, whose face was knotted with pain and resolve as he stared fixedly at the battle.

Jing Yuan shook his head slightly; his form melted into moonlight and slipped silently backward, vanishing into the forest's shadows in an instant.

No one present, not even the hyper-focused Huo Yuhao, noticed his departure.

Only Xiao Wu from the parallel world, standing beside Huo Yuhao, had her pink eyes flicker, as if catching a trace ripple—she said nothing.

Deep in the forest, moonlight filtered through leaves, casting dappled specks.

Jing Yuan stopped, gazing ahead at the white-haired woman who had appeared without warning, standing quietly.

"Master."

Jing Yuan spoke, with a faint, hard-to-detect emotion and sincere relief.

Before him, Jingliu's aura was cool and pure—no longer a trace of the madness and torment from the Mara's torture.

She existed here in a more complete form, unlike him—a follower's body condensed from negative emotions.

Jingliu turned; icy blue eyes fell upon Jing Yuan. On that face like ten-thousand-year ice, a barely perceptible warmth seemed to thaw.

"Jing Yuan."

She answered softly.

"It seems you, too, have gained something in this world."

She could feel some weight had lifted from her disciple.

Old acquaintances reunited in another world—without words, they'd said a thousand.

Master and disciple withdrew from the clamorous battlefield and began their own conversation in the quiet woods.

Below, the battle grew ever more dire.

The golden holy dragon, besieged by several bone dragons and liches, let out a mournful cry, then, energy spent, dissipated in midair.

Yu Xiaogang, Flender, and Liu Erlong turned deathly pale, staggering back, soul power nearly exhausted.

Dai Mubai and Zhu Zhuqing ended their fusion skill, panting, covered in wounds.

Tang San's hidden weapons had their limits. Faced with the unending undead, despair crept into his eyes.

Ning Rongrong's pagoda light waned; Oscar's sausage-making slowed.

Just then, the parallel-world Xiao Wu, who had stood silently by Huo Yuhao's side, began to tremble.

She looked at the Xiao Wu below—who fought to protect her companions, using Soft Skill again and again, and resembled her in appearance. An indescribable impulse and instinct from deep within her soul drove her to act—to kill her.

As a deity, she moved like lightning.

A pink streak flashed across the chaotic battlefield, ignoring all obstacles, appearing before the Xiao Wu who had just shattered a zombie's skull with a waist-bow kick.

Two Xiao Wus, a step apart, locked eyes.

The parallel-world Xiao Wu's gaze was complex, tinged with pity—and with something... like destiny.

The Xiao Wu by Tang San's side, in the instant she saw the other's eyes, felt all her doubts and chill turn to clarity.

She understood.

This woman, suffocatingly strong and so like her, had come to take her life.

She sensed Tang San's familiar, frantic aura racing toward her from behind; her exquisitely beautiful face showed a wry, desolate smile.

She knew she couldn't run—and couldn't win.

"San-ge..."

She murmured; a crystal tear slid from the corner of her eye, leaving a clean track on her dust- and blood-streaked face.

She lifted her head sharply and, with all her remaining strength, pleaded to the parallel Xiao Wu through tears:

 "Please... spare San-ge... I beg you..."

The parallel Xiao Wu trembled almost imperceptibly at this Xiao Wu who wept and begged for her lover.

Something seemed about to surface in her mind, as if lost memories were returning.

But then, a red light flashed in Huo Yuhao's eyes in the distance; the same red flashed in Xiao Wu's eyes; the shaken look smoothed over at once.

Huo Yuhao sneered.

With Xiao Wu so powerful, how could he not have a safeguard?

If Xiao Wu didn't regain her memories, fine. But if she did, she would learn she'd been deceived; neither the Holy Spirit Cult nor he could withstand the wrath of a deity.

So he had long ago placed a seal in her spiritual sea. If her memories began to recover, it would trigger.

With his own strength, he certainly couldn't seal a deity's memories—but Xiao Wu was defenseless against him, and with the Herrscher core's amplification, he could seal Xiao Wu to block her memory recovery.

That was one reason why Xiao Wu, though a deity with divine sense, had never managed to recover her memories.

"No—Xiao Wu—!!!"

Tang San's eyes split with blood; he howled with soul-rending anguish. He threw himself toward Xiao Wu, Purple Demon Eye driven to the limit, trying to kill the threat to his beloved with a gaze.

But the chasm between god and man cannot be crossed.

In Tang San's despairing gaze, under the horrified stares of Dai Mubai, Zhu Zhuqing, and Ning Rongrong, and the contracted pupils of Yu Xiaogang with the disbelief on Flender and Liu Erlong's faces—

The parallel Xiao Wu's arm, wreathed in blue divine radiance, slid through as if through gauze—precise and merciless—piercing Xiao Wu's chest in an instant.

Time seemed to freeze.

The battlefield's clamor and the undead's howls drifted away.

All eyes fixed on the pink figure impaled by a divine arm, body gone limp.

Xiao Wu looked at the frenzied Tang San charging toward her; her lips moved, as if to call "San-ge" one last time, but no sound came. Only her eyes, filled with endless love and reluctance, slowly closed.

"Xiao Wu—!!!"

Tang San's roar became a blood-cry; the world lost its color for him.

When the parallel Xiao Wu pulled her arm free, the lifeless body did not fall. It shattered like broken glaze into countless pink-and-gold motes, which, drawn by an unseen pull, streamed into the parallel Xiao Wu.

As mutually exclusive counterparts, one devours the other—a cruel path to singularity.

As the motes were fully absorbed, the parallel Xiao Wu's divine fluctuations clearly strengthened, her aura more harmonious and deep, as if an inborn flaw had been mended—an evolution toward a more perfect, more singular existence.

Far on the mountaintop, Lu Jingming raised an eyebrow and murmured, "As expected."

Every world is different. In some, counterparts can coexist as independent entities—like in the Honkai world.

In others, counterparts clearly cannot: one devours the other and grows more perfect, advancing toward singularity.

Like Xiao Wu now. Not that this helped him—he had no counterpart in this world. Otherwise, he could have used Cosmic Juggernaut to travel countless parallels and quickly grow by killing his counterparts.

If anyone truly devoured all their counterparts in all parallel worlds, that person would be unimaginably powerful.

But regrettably, in this world, it's unclear if anyone can traverse parallels. Without Cosmic Juggernaut, Lu Jingming couldn't, and without him opening a passage and linking two universes, Sparkle couldn't blast open a spacetime channel either.

And only because of Vita's Heaven's Eye to observe parallels did they find the weakest node. So likely no other existence in this world can traverse parallels.

His gaze returned to Tang San, driven utterly mad by his lover's dissolution. He shook his head.

This world's Tang San was finished. Better he die here than risk stumbling into his own world to be devoured by the Sea God Tang San there, strengthening an enemy for free.

He'd lost interest in their fates. Turning blandly, he said, "Let's go."

Firefly and Castorice followed silently; Jingliu, who had returned at some point, went along as well.

Light flickered. The peak stood empty.

Below, watching Xiao Wu become motes and be absorbed, Tang San's reason shattered. His blood-red eyes fixed only on the black-haired figure and on vengeance.

"Give—Xiao—Wu—back—to—me!!!"

He howled and burned every drop of remaining soul power, even his life force, streaking like a meteor with a bloody tail toward the parallel Xiao Wu, Eight Spider Lances flailing, as if to tear her apart.

But gods and men are worlds apart.

Facing this frenzied, unskilled lunge, the parallel Xiao Wu—her aura not yet fully settled after absorbing her counterpart—showed a flicker of disgust and casually lifted a leg, a seemingly light kick forward.

"Bang—!"

With a dull thud, Tang San's charging body slammed as if struck by an invisible hammer, halted midair—then exploded.

He burst into a gruesome blood mist, drifting in the air, not a single intact piece left.

Shrek's first among seven, a control-type prodigy, bearer of Tang Sect's dream and godhood's ambition—Tang San fell with no bones left.

Chapter 405: Bibi Dong's Wrath

"San-ge!!!"

"Xiao San!!!"

Ma Hongjun, Dai Mubai, Zhu Zhuqing, Oscar and the rest let out soul-rending cries. Watching a dear friend die so horribly, boundless rage and despair swallowed them.

At the peak of chaos and grief—

"Chi!"

A razor sword aura slashed down from the sky, neatly cleaving the skeletons besieging Ning Rongrong.

An instant later, a gray figure flashed in—Sword Douluo Chen Xin, who had come to find Ning Rongrong.

He had been lurking nearby, but the godly might of the parallel Xiao Wu kept him from making a rash move.

Only when she slowed for a moment after absorbing her counterpart and killing Tang San did he seize the fleeting chance.

Chen Xin grabbed the stunned Ning Rongrong and, without lingering, merged with his sword and streaked away in a stream of light.

"Grandpa Sword, save everyone—save Oscar, Fatty and the others!"

Ning Rongrong snapped from her shock and Tang San's death, clutching Chen Xin's sleeve and crying in panic.

A trace of helplessness crossed his face, but his speed did not falter. He chopped lightly at the back of her neck, knocking her out.

"Rongrong, I'm sorry... Grandpa can't save everyone."

He muttered, steeling himself, and accelerated, vanishing into the night.

He knew if those bone dragons pinned him down, once that god-level Xiao Wu recovered, neither he nor Rongrong would escape.

Saving one was the limit.

Chen Xin's sudden appearance and retreat did not draw Huo Yuhao's pursuit.

He only cast a cold glance at the vanishing sword light, unconcerned.

A support-type Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda user posed no threat in his eyes.

By then, the parallel Xiao Wu, whose pain and grief from killing Tang San herself had been soothed by Huo Yuhao's spiritual power, calmed.

The ripples in her gaze faded; she regained a deity's calm indifference.

Seeing her stable, Huo Yuhao turned his icy gaze back to the remaining Shrek group.

"Clean it up."

He gave a flat order, passing the final sentence.

The undead roared again, surging like a tide of death toward Yu Xiaogang and the others.

Dai Mubai, bathed in blood, had long lost his White Tiger Barrier. He stood before Zhu Zhuqing, smiled bitterly at the encircling undead knights: "Zhuqing... looks like we die together today."

Zhu Zhuqing's cool face softened into a faint, gentle smile; she took his bloodied hand:

 "Mubai, no regrets in this life."

The next second, they burst their last soul power and charged the undead flood, finally swallowed by blades and bone claws, falling in an embrace, never to part even in death.

Ma Hongjun saw them die, saw Ning Rongrong carried off unconscious; phoenix flames on him flickered—he was at his limit.

He looked at the onrushing zombies, madness flashing in his eyes.

"You sons of bitches—come on then! Phoenix—Howling Strike!!"

He wrung out the last drop of soul power, turning into a burning fire phoenix that dove into the enemy, exploding fiercely and taking a swath of undead with him, himself consumed in the flames.

Oscar watched his comrades fall one by one, tears mingling with blood.

He swung a dagger in vain before a skeleton's spear pierced him from behind. As he fell, he still clutched an unfinished sausage.

Yu Xiaogang, Flender, and Liu Erlong stood back to back, their soul power long dry.

"Erlong, Xiaogang... I failed to protect the academy, failed the children..."

Flender's glasses were shattered; his face smeared with blood and regret.

Liu Erlong gripped Yu Xiaogang's arm. Seeing the encroaching undead, her eyes held no fear—only unwillingness and deep fatigue:

"Flender, it's not your fault... At least, the Golden Iron Triangle is together at the end."

Yu Xiaogang's gaze swept the blood-soaked field and the young lives lost. His eyes were thick with grief and despair. He sighed deeply, closed his eyes: "It's over..."

The undead swallowed their last silhouettes.

When Yu Xiaogang fell beneath the undead tide, the valley's rumble faded, leaving only the faint rasp of bones and the distant keening of wandering souls.

The stench of blood hung heavy, almost tangible—proof of the slaughter's ferocity.

Bei Bei stood trembling.

He'd watched Yu Xiaogang and Liu Erlong—ancestors of his bloodline—and names once shining in history like Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun, fall one by one to the undead.

Especially Yu Xiaogang's eyes as he fell—full of grief and despair—like a cold needle piercing Bei Bei's heart.

Pain and regret surged like a tide, battering his reason, choking him.

For Tang Ya's sake, he had watched this massacre unfold.

Just then, a skeleton warrior in battered armor, soul fire steady in its sockets, stepped across blood-soaked ground to him.

In its pale hands lay an item—a beautifully shaped, blue-gold crystalline bone suffused with rich life force and the fragrance of grass and wood: the Blue Silver Emperor Right Leg Bone, the soul bone left after Tang San's body exploded.

The skeleton offered the bone to Bei Bei, its stiff motion oddly reverent.

Bei Bei's gaze locked onto the bone at once.

All the pain, all the regret, all the guilt, met a blazing sun and began to melt away.

His breath quickened; his eyes held only that alluring glow.

"Tang Ya... Tang Ya can be saved..."

He murmured, voice trembling—with irrepressible excitement and longing.

He all but snatched the Blue Silver Emperor soul bone from the skeleton's hands.

It felt warm to the touch. The pure, vast life energy even soothed his breath, ragged from agitation and turmoil.

He could feel the power within—plenty to cleanse Tang Ya's body and martial soul of evil poison, to rebuild her foundation.

Hope rose like a lighthouse in the dark, dispelling all shadows in his heart.

Compared to saving Tang Ya, what were regret and self-blame?

 History is history; the dead are gone; the living—he must protect.

For that goal, even if his hands were drenched in blood, even if he bore infamy for ages, he would not hesitate.

He gripped the Blue Silver Emperor soul bone tight, as if holding Tang Ya's lifeline. The struggle and pain on his face were completely replaced by an almost fanatical resolve.

Huo Yuhao, who had been calmly observing, took in every change in Bei Bei's emotions.

When he saw Bei Bei clutch the soul bone with no more confusion—only ruthless resolve to do anything for his goal—his lips curved into a deep smile.

Good.

His senior brother, Bei Bei, had finally severed futile hesitation and moral shackles, stepping over a point of no return.

From now on, they would truly walk the same path.

For those they cared about, they could become asura and slaughter all beings—including... their own past.

Huo Yuhao walked over, his gaze sweeping the splendid soul bone in Bei Bei's hand. His voice was calm with a trace of satisfaction: "Senior brother, with that, Teacher Tang Ya will definitely recover."

Bei Bei looked up at Huo Yuhao. His eyes were complex, but in the end he nodded heavily. "Mm."

One syllable—his stance and choice were clear.

Huo Yuhao's smile deepened slightly.

He knew that from this moment, Bei Bei could no longer go back—and didn't need to.

Side by side, they would walk this thorny, dark road to the end.

As Huo Yuhao and Bei Bei prepared to withdraw with the unconscious Tang Ya and the silent Jing Yuan, the lingering deathly air was suddenly torn by a far more terrible divine might—seething with spite and evil.

"Shrrrip—!"

Space itself ripped like cloth, and a stunning, fearsome figure stepped out. Violet-black Rakshasa divine power surged like a tangible tide, making low-tier undead shiver and their soul flames waver.

It was the Empress of the Spirit Empire—Bibi Dong.

Her bewitching purple eyes instantly locked onto two tightly embracing corpses on the ground—Yu Xiaogang and Liu Erlong.

Time froze.

The ice and killing intent on Bibi Dong's face stiffened. She stared blankly at Yu Xiaogang's lifeless face—seeming to carry relief and regret—and at Liu Erlong, clutching his arm even in death.

An indescribable storm—searing pain, emptiness, and fury—erupted in her heart like a volcano.

"Was it... you... who killed them?"

Bibi Dong's voice seemed from the ninth hell—ice-cold enough to freeze souls. Each word dripped killing intent.

She slowly raised her head. Madness and destruction filled her eyes as she fixed on the only living group—Huo Yuhao, Bei Bei, and beside them Xiao Wu and Jing Yuan.

Huo Yuhao's heart sank. He hadn't expected Bibi Dong to pursue them herself—much less react so violently.

He forced calm, bowed slightly: "Your Majesty, Yu Xiaogang, Liu Erlong and the others were enemies of the Spirit Empire. We acted to remove a threat for the Empire. We bear no malice toward the Empire nor toward you."

He tried to explain—to quell the Rakshasa's rage.

But in Bibi Dong's ears, it was mockery and provocation.

"Who... gave you the right to kill him?!"

Her voice spiked, hysteria edging it.

"Even if he must die... only I can kill him. What are you... to lay a hand on him?!"

Her twisted love and hate bared themselves.

She could hate Yu Xiaogang, torture him, even kill him—but never let others do it.

Especially seeing Yu Xiaogang and Liu Erlong's entwined corpses—that fury drowned her reason.

"You... go bury him."

Before the words finished, purple light flashed in her hand—the Rakshasa Scythe, coiled with boundless resentment and miasma.

She didn't even use complex soul skills. Fueled by godly wrath and power, she simply swung.

A violet-black scythe arc spanned heaven and earth, shrieking as it tore souls and annihilated matter, cleaving down at Huo Yuhao and the others.

Divine might like a prison!

Huo Yuhao's pupils shrank. He was speechless and stunned.

This wasn't his plan at all—weren't Tang San and the others mortal enemies of the Spirit Empire?

He'd helped purge a deadly threat—why did Bibi Dong want to kill him for it?

 What was this woman thinking?!

Questions aside, the lethal, genuine killing intent allowed no error.

As Huo Yuhao prepared to open the undead demi-plane to summon stronger undead, and Bei Bei, pale, shielded Tang Ya—

Xiao Wu moved.

As a deity, her reaction outstripped mortals'.

Her pink figure flickered to the front. Facing a Rakshasa blade that could hew a mountain, her eyes showed a trace of gravity—but no fear.

Her long jade leg, wreathed in dense divine power, like sculpted blue crystal, kicked upward with force to shatter stars.

"Boom—!!!"

Blue divine power crashed into violet-black Rakshasa power.

No fancy technique—pure divine clash.

The explosion deafened; a destructive shockwave burst from the impact center, surging outward like a tsunami.

The ground cracked; trees and rocks turned to powder on contact; undead too slow to dodge were wiped away. The field looked like a meteor strike—devastated in an instant.

Xiao Wu's figure wavered slightly in midair, then landed steady, eyes icy on Bibi Dong.

She'd just absorbed her counterpart's power and was on the rise, but facing a full-tilt strike from a true deity, she dared not relax.

Meanwhile, Jing Yuan had, at some point, drawn his ancient formation blade.

No earth-shaking aura erupted from him, but golden lightning coiled around him like tame dragons, crackling low.

His calm eyes regarded the near-mad Bibi Dong, a hint of contemplation within.

"This Rakshasa God... her state is unstable."

Jing Yuan thought.

Though Bibi Dong had only recently inherited godhood—far from the accumulation and control of a first-rank god—with the godseat's blessing, the power she could unleash was already nearing a second-rank god of the God Realm.