Chapter 499: The Wound

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

The ice layer kept shattering. The ice prison Celicia had strengthened with magic could not stop that withered old man in the slightest.

He was still sitting on that worn-out meditation cushion. His shoulder merely gave the faintest tremor, and the surrounding ice instantly burst apart. Countless shards of ice instead scattered like thrown hidden weapons, tearing through the frigid wind and shooting toward the two of them.

Celicia’s gaze flickered. The razor-sharp ice fragments halted mere dozens of centimeters from her. She held the Divine Favor of the Snowstorm Goddess; these ice shards still remained under her control.

The other side had shaken the ice loose on purpose to drain her stamina... no.

Facing a Crowned One, he had no need to think that much about the two of them. For someone like King Yintuo, that earlier movement was probably no more than the casual gesture of dusting off his shoulder.

Would an ordinary person care whether the dust they flicked away happened to threaten a tiny insect passing by?

Of course not.

And King Yintuo’s hand had already risen. That was his true attack!

“Get ready to run.”

Just as Celicia was thinking of how to deal with that coming strike, she suddenly heard a voice—one deliberately pushed low through battle-qi, audible only to her.

“I’ll look for an opening.”

The voice remained steady, as if the predicament before them was nothing out of the ordinary to its owner. But Celicia could clearly hear a trace of resoluteness in it.

Naturally he had to be resolute. Facing a genuine Crowned One—if you didn’t have the courage to risk your life, how could you possibly find that infinitesimal chance?

Thus, before Celicia even had time to speak, the solid silhouette before her had already voluntarily charged forward.

...

Even though he did not hesitate, a faint bitterness still passed through Muen’s heart.

He and Celicia had already been cautious enough along the way, slipping about, hiding, using every kind of technique, every kind of tool, every kind of probe.

They had scraped and fought through countless difficulties, peeled back one layer of concealment after another, and finally reached this place, thinking they would at last be able to see what they wanted to see.

But no one could have imagined that those people would be mad enough to place a Crowned One here!!

Perhaps he should have thought of it earlier, since he already knew about the relationship between King Yintuo and those people.

But regretting it now—saying anything now—could not change what had already happened.

Therefore.

He could only risk his life again.

Muen let out a faint sigh. His lowered eyes suddenly snapped open; in his deep-blue pupils, there was no longer a trace of fear or confusion.

Yes—he had to gamble his life again.

But... it was only gambling his life. Wasn’t gambling his life something he had long gotten used to?

You, King Yintuo, want to regain your dignity from me? Plenty of people have tried to kill me to save their pride—you don’t even rank!

Boom!

A low, muffled rumble resounded inside Muen’s body.

Like the toll of a distant, ancient bell.

His Alchemy Core instantly pushed its output to maximum. His back blazed as if it were about to ignite.

All the magic in his body began surging toward his back. He even stopped using the illumination spell.

But at that moment—

Boom.

A second low rumble sounded. The second Alchemy Core also began to run at full power, without reservation.

His second Alchemy Core had already been unsealed back in the Lost Land, but this was the first time he had unleashed it at full force.

A far more terrifying temporal delay fell upon him—sixtyfold... seventyfold... eightyfold! Everything around him grew even slower. The flying shards of ice now looked like prop bullets displayed in slow motion in a film.

The intensified temporal delay placed an even heavier burden on Muen’s body. Every joint creaked under the strain of muscles contracting at full power, the sound sharp and painful, like they were about to give out.

Muen clenched his teeth. The precious magic stone hidden in his mouth shattered—an extremely crude method of refilling his rapidly-draining magic. And then he charged straight toward King Yintuo.

The changes in his body looked as if they unfolded across several phases, but they had all actually happened in an instant—especially under the Eternal Bell’s temporal delay.

Thus, when Muen blinked forward to King Yintuo’s face, King Yintuo’s hand had only just begun to rise.

“...Hm?”

King Yintuo’s vacant eyes flickered slightly. He seemed to sense some kind of interference, one that made his movements slow by a fraction.

The interference was instantly broken—and Muen was already before him.

So close.

Expressionless, King Yintuo lightly turned his hand.

Just a palm.

In an instant, the entire space seemed to freeze. A colossal pressure made Muen feel as though he had been thrust into the deep sea ten thousand meters below; the terrifying force crushed down on him from every direction.

King Yintuo was clearly just sitting there—his frail frame beneath his ragged robe—but at this moment his silhouette seemed endlessly magnified. That single hand seemed magnified infinitely too, pressing down on him bit by bit. No matter how fast he was, there was nowhere to run.

But Muen had already rushed into his face. How could he possibly be trying to escape?

King Yintuo’s brows furrowed slightly.

Because within the sensation from his palm, he realized he was suppressing not just a person—but other foreign objects.

He lifted his gaze and saw that those objects were...

Several extremely expensive alchemical bombs.

Boom!

The explosion nearly ruptured the eardrum, yet in the next instant it was crushed by an invisible power—nothing but a spark, gone in a blink, unable to stir even the slightest ripple.

But just as King Yintuo diverted the faintest sliver of attention to deal with those expensive alchemical bombs—

The blade flashed again.

Like dawn rising from endless darkness.

Within the pure-white blade, the active living spirit let out an excited hum. Holy radiance burst forth from it like karmic fire burning the sinful.

The acceleration gained from temporal delay had been forcibly broken by King Yintuo’s unreasonable “strength,” but that much was already enough.

In the instant Muen’s body halted, the blade in his hand had already swung.

The infinite layered force built up in that instant condensed into a single line of blade-light.

Blood splattered.

Only a few drops.

King Yintuo quietly lowered his head.

On his already scarred palm, a new wound stood out—so clear.

So glaring.

Muen also froze for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected to land a hit at all. But he still grinned and spat:

“Damn, why’s it only this tiny of a wound? I thought I could chop your whole neck off.”

King Yintuo’s face remained expressionless.

But Muen could clearly feel, from that withered body, the killing intent erupting like a violent storm!

“Oh no way, no way—you’re already that embarrassed and angry?”

Muen continued wielding his unbeatable taunting ability—the kind even Evil Gods couldn’t tolerate:

“How does it feel to get bitten by an ant? Weren’t you trying to get your dignity back? But look—now you didn’t regain anything, and you lost even more face. I’m really looking forward to what people will say once news spreads that the great King Yintuo was wounded by a martial artist not even at fourth-rank—”

Boom—

His words were cut off—shredded by the howling storm-pressure.

Though his palm was wounded, King Yintuo’s strike had not ceased. It even... grew fiercer.

Right before Muen’s eyes, the space itself warped, like a transparent membrane crushed by overwhelming external force. That palm didn’t even touch him, yet its terror already made Muen’s vision go black.

He barely managed to cross his twin blades before his chest.

But the pure-white twin blades—meant for offense—had no defensive capability at all. Their unmatched sharpness and alchemical domain were useless here. He was almost entirely taking the blow with his body.

Both arms nearly lost sensation. He didn’t know if the bones had fractured, but his chest had visibly caved in. The sound of snapping ribs crackled like burning bamboo.

As Muen flew backward, a sweetness rose in his throat. He spat several mouthfuls of blood mixed with chunks of flesh from who-knew-which organ.

He really had gotten embarrassed and furious.

The brutal pain and severe injuries made Muen’s consciousness blur, yet he still quietly exhaled in relief.

This was the price of taunting. But fortunately, King Yintuo’s anger-driven attacks did create exploitable gaps, didn’t they?

If so, then that clever woman would certainly—

“Fool.”

A cool voice as calm as ever. At the same time, Muen felt himself collide into a soft embrace. Gentle magic probed into his body, helping expel the external force still ravaging him.

The pressure from King Yintuo lessened considerably thanks to another person sharing the burden—but Muen’s heart, just beginning to [N O V E L I G H T] settle, shot upward again. Ignoring his injuries, he jerked his head back.

“Why are you still here? Didn’t you understand what I meant earlier?”

“Do I need to listen to you?”

Celicia’s face was cold as frost as she said sharply:

“What identity do you have to command me?”

“I wasn’t ordering you, I meant—”

“Shut up!”

Her suddenly raised tone made Muen’s words stop dead. He stared blankly at Celicia. Though her expression remained the same elegant, unchanging mask even in the face of life-and-death crisis, deep within those ice-lake eyes, he faintly sensed a genuine spark of anger.

She... was angry?

Celicia looked down at the utterly battered, blood-covered Muen in her arms. Her chest rose and fell more strongly than usual.

Truly foolish—beyond foolish. A martial artist not even at fourth-rank daring to charge a Crowned One head-on? Did he think he was some cockroach with absurd vitality, able to bounce around after being slapped a few times?

With courage like this, no wonder he dared to flirt everywhere outside.

Celicia took a deep breath. That brief ripple of emotion was quickly suppressed. She returned to that ice-bound indifference.

“You wounded him just now?”

Celicia suddenly asked.

“Yeah.”

Muen gave a weak, bitter smile:

“But the wound’s tiny, not even enough to count as a scratch.”

“......”

For the moment, she set everything else aside. Celicia narrowed her beautiful eyes, and her gaze fell onto King Yintuo’s palm.

Just as Muen had said, that wound was insignificant—something that could at most frighten a child, not even a real scratch.

But...

A faint light flickered deep within Celicia’s eyes, as if a thought had struck her. Her twin pupils, pale blue like Muen’s—like a tranquil lake—suddenly turned deep.

“Hold onto me.”

She suddenly said coldly.