Chapter 47: The Crimson Lotus of Burning Silence

“White, what are you waiting for? Fifty billion for the Sky Net—I've poured everything into this! Let's join forces and kill this beast!”

“I was thinking the same thing!”

The man with the pockmarked face was both startled and delighted by the sudden assistance. Seeing the newcomer was Old Madam Xiao’s second son, he finally breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, this was a straightforward act of vengeance, with no ulterior motives.

On the outer rim of the deep pit, three launch devices completed their charge. Blue-violet light began to condense at their ports, growing ever more intense.

Enshrouded in a cage of high-voltage currents, Muyou continued to laugh maniacally. His body was already battered and torn, yet he still struggled wantonly. His flesh was first shredded by the blades strung across the electric net, then charred by the current, and finally shattered by a sudden hail of bullets.

Yet, despite all this, Muyou’s smile never faded—not for an instant. It was as if he felt no pain, as if he knew nothing of despair, as if all the world’s unfathomable horrors meant nothing to him. It was almost as though he himself was the very source of all despair.

Three straight beams of blue-violet light converged in an instant, enveloping Muyou completely.

“Fire!” Director Bai commanded, his gaze fixed intently on Muyou. He savored watching his prey torn apart by the pulse cannon.

“Max out the power to the electric cables! Detonate the Sky Net! I want him utterly obliterated, not a piece left behind—my mother must be avenged!” the young man shouted his curses.

Within the blue-violet beams, dazzling white light flared, waxing and waning, flickering in and out of existence. In those fleeting flashes, a sphere of purple-black energy began to form—neither light nor substance, yet somehow both. The instant the white light touched the black sphere, it vanished, devoured entirely. No one dared underestimate this conjured anomaly, for it was a region of pure vacuum, created by energy condensed to its ultimate extreme.

Countless black spheres battered Muyou, merging at once into a single massive black hole that swallowed him and his blood wings whole. A thunderous explosion followed—the electric net shattered, lightning blazed, sparks flew—but before the blast could spread, it was sucked into the abyss. The black hole swelled again, radiating a chilling aura of annihilation.

“Quick, throw your capture devices to the bottom of the pit!” the pockmarked man shouted, prompting the young man’s entourage.

Nearly a hundred mechanical guns were hurled beneath the black hole. Moments later, all present stared in shock as the black hole, guided by steel cables, plunged into the earth. Sand and soil touching the sphere vanished soundlessly; the black hole descended rapidly, disappearing from sight in the blink of an eye.

At the edge of the pit, everyone peered downward, mouths agape, minds blank with disbelief.

Now, before them yawned a tunnel, dozens of yards across, bored straight through the earth. Its sides were smooth as if carved by a master craftsman. Some of the bolder bodyguards slid down to the edge of the cavity, craning their necks to peer into the abyss.

The chasm was pitch-black, reflecting no light, its depth unknown. Yet the faint tremor beneath their feet reminded all that the destruction still raged below.

At last, the heart-shaking tremors ceased.

Everyone let out a deep breath and wiped the sweat from their brows. At last, the monster was dead.

But was that thing even human? How had it suddenly gone mad like that? Those eyes—they were the eyes of a devil. What in the world had happened?

“Dead. The beast is finally dead…” The pockmarked man’s taut body relaxed, and he burst into laughter. The young man laughed as well, and his attendants, seeing this, hastened to join in the merriment. Some even spat into the chasm in contempt.

“Me? Dead? Heh heh…”

Suddenly, a low, rhythmic laughter echoed up from the depths, like an iron hammer striking the door to the heart. All present froze, staring downward. In an instant, the abyss was lit as if by day, flames surging upward from below. Those who failed to retreat in time had their heads seared to charred flesh at the neck. The blaze flickered—appearing, vanishing, then reappearing—an unpredictable dance of light and shadow.

That radiance emanated from Muyou’s tattered blood-crystal wings. Now he was battered beyond recognition, his very consciousness teetering on the brink of collapse.

“Beast… Muyou, did you hear? They’re calling you a beast—a creature lower than low, stripped of all rights, fit only for slaughter…”

Muyou muttered to himself as he pounded his own skull in a frenzy. “How did you survive before, you bastard? You really thought you were some kind of saint? Disgusting. You make me sick.”

A crimson aura began to ripple from Muyou’s body. The scattered blood on the ground flocked back to his wings, and as the blood-crystal feathers regrew, they blazed with a brilliant, fiery gold.

“Ants should live as ants! If you won’t teach them, I will!”

Muyou’s left arm was badly dislocated, pinned beneath his body. As he spoke, he seized it with his right hand and forced it back into place. Once reset, he slowly opened his left hand—where the six drops of blood had transformed entirely into molten gold.

“How did you like that last ‘First Glimpse: Sovereign Flame’?”

Those above, seeing Muyou alive and speaking these unfathomable words, recalled the cataclysmic explosion just moments before. All color drained from their faces. In the expressions they exchanged, one could see the dawning of hysteria and utter despair.

“And what about the next six?”

Muyou clenched his palm. The six golden drops of blood spun, transforming into six golden petals, which folded together to form a golden bud that slowly ascended above the horizon.

All eyes followed the exquisite bud as it rose into the air, captivated by its perfection. Some, entranced, even reached out to touch it, only to be snatched back by terrified companions—any closer, and they would have been obliterated.

Regaining his senses, one man looked up with lingering dread. That thing was too perfect—its beauty was deadly, a fatal allure.

A streak of blood flashed through the air. Muyou stood barefoot atop the golden bud, casting a gaze of utmost scorn upon the ignorant, insignificant masses below.

“Even if you run for your lives, not a one of you will escape.”

Muyou’s lips curled into a cruel smile, his tone mocking to the extreme.

“That was your strongest attack, wasn’t it? Not bad—it hurt me… Now, taste my most powerful strike!”

As he spoke, Muyou’s smile faded, replaced by a chill that cut to the bone. Golden light gleamed from his body, intensifying. The blood-red web in his left pupil spread wider. The black lightning mark above his eyelid expanded, until a single, jagged bolt cut across his left eye.

“Bloom—Inferno Lotus!”