Teacher by day, Farmer by passion - Chapter 247

Chapter 247: Aftermath [2]
Tatsumi tried to crawl away, dragging herself across broken stone with one working arm.

Her sword lay forgotten behind her, and blood pooled beneath her torn robes. Her spiritual aura flickered, weak, unstable.

Liu Mei walked slowly, step by step, eyes never leaving her prey.

There was not even a bit of sympathy in her gaze.

Only judgment.

Only wrath.

She kicked Tatsumi over onto her back and knelt beside her, straddling her chest as she raised one glowing dagger high.

“Where are you trying to go? I’m right here,” Liu Mei whispered, her voice almost tender.

Tatsumi coughed, lips cracked. “Your master… he has corrupted you…”

“No,” Liu Mei said. “He saved me.”

And then the dagger came down.

First, the right arm, a clean, brutal slice through the shoulder joint. Blood spurted as Tatsumi screamed, her body convulsing beneath Liu Mei.

The dagger burned hot, cauterizing the wound as it cut, leaving behind a seared stump.

Then Liu Mei moved with clinical precision.

The left arm next.

She pinned it down with her knee, ignoring the weak protests, the gurgling sobs, the tremors that rolled through the woman’s dying body.

Another cut.

Another scream.

Another hiss of burning flesh.

Tatsumi’s legs kicked out feebly, so Liu Mei moved to them next. She stood, flipping the broken woman onto her stomach.

No hesitation.

One leg, gone.

Then the other.

Tatsumi no longer screamed. Her voice had broken, lost somewhere between the pain and the shame.

Now she only whimpered, her body twitching as blood soaked into the cracked stone.

Liu Mei wiped her blade clean on the remnants of Tatsumi’s robes, then crouched beside the limbless body.

She leaned close and whispered, “You lived by taking power from others. Now die with nothing left.”

She stood and turned.

Behind her, Tatsumi’s breath came shallow. Barely alive. No limbs. No sword. No pride.

And Liu Mei didn’t even spare her another glance.

Ace, lying with his hands behind his head beside Shan Yifeng, blinked up at the sky now visible through the shattered ceiling.

“She’s thorough,” he murmured.

Shan Yifeng, still focused on his runes, didn’t even look up. “You taught her.”

Ace shake his head. “I didn’t teach her that.”

Far at the distance:

“Arrghhhh! Die!”

Giyo finally snapped, his voice hoarse with rage and exhaustion.

His soul bond, Golgroth, had perished in the earliest minutes, torn apart by that cursed fox spirit with cruel, dancing ice.

He hadn’t even had time to mourn. Not when the enemies just kept coming.

And now, before him stood not just one apex predator, but two.

A dragon, currently in human form, its golden eyes gleaming with timeless fury.

And beside it, a Spirit Sovereign Wolf, silver-furred and statuesque, each breath it took enough to send shivers through the world around them.

Giyo was drenched, not in sweat, but blood. His own, mostly.

His armor was cracked, his robes torn, and one eye swollen shut. But his hands still gripped that cursed black spear.

He wasn’t about to die kneeling.

“Lifespan-Stealing Dragon!” he roared.

A surge of dark light erupted from his spear as he lunged forward.

Years of his own life burned away with each thrust, converted into force, power, desperation.

The air crackled and time seemed to be twisted.

The dragon, still in its human guise, blocked with all it’s might, grimacing as the tip of the spear grazed its cheek.

The Spirit Sovereign Wolf which had been until now watching cautiously suddenly began to move.

In a blur of silver and white, it appeared beside him, claws outstretched. Giyo barely turned in time.

Clang!

Sparks flew as he blocked, but the force hurled him back like a ragdoll. He smashed through rubble, bones crunching on impact, but somehow, he stood again.

“Come on then! One more round!” he bellowed, spitting blood onto the stone.

His body shook, but his glare was steel.

Midas touch, crouched in a nearby crevice, panted heavily. His golden pupils flicked between the dragon and the wolf, both still standing, both struggling.

He should have died already, Black Midas thought. He was meant to break. Like they all do.

But Giyo hadn’t.

“Retreat,” the dragon warned, eyes flicking toward the fox watching from afar. “He’s already dead. He just hasn’t fallen yet.”

But the wolf shook its head, respect flickering in its glowing eyes.

“No,” the wolf said. “Lets fight him. He’s earned that much.”

Giyo charged again, roaring with everything he had left, spear glowing with the last embers of his lifespan.

The battlefield trembled with each clash.

Giyo’s spear danced through the air like a reaper’s scythe, carving arcs of raw, lifeburnt power that forced even the apex beasts to treat him seriously.

The dragon, still cloaked in its human guise, parried with sharp movements but he was way too tired now.

The Spirit Sovereign Wolf, whose senses were honed beyond mortal limits, was the first to speak.

“…He’s evolving in battle.”

Black Midas said nothing at first, his golden pupils narrowing.

Then he felt it too.

At first, it was subtle, barely noticeable beneath the overwhelming stench of blood and fury. But now it was clear: Giyo wasn’t fading.

He was growing.

With each strike, each exchange, something in him pulsed stronger. His aura, once flickering like a dying flame, now burned with an unnatural steadiness.

“Impossible,” the dragon muttered, taking a step back mid-swing. “He was supposed to be draining himself. Stealing his own years. But…”

The lifespan should’ve run out. That technique was suicidal. And yet, Giyo wasn’t collapsing. He was evolving.

His wounds sealed slower than a healing technique, but they sealed nonetheless.

His muscles tightened. His blood stopped flowing so freely. That spear, once just an extension of his rage, now moved with precision. Intent.

The wolf narrowed its eyes.

“This isn’t his power alone,” it said lowly. “There’s… something buried inside.”

They clashed again, and this time, the dragon stumbled back a step.

Giyo grinned, blood crusted along his jaw.

“You feel it now?” he spat, voice wild but steady. “My life isn’t mine alone. Your friend’s may have killed my bond, but not my fire!”