Apocalypse Forecast

The flames rose, surging upwards.

With each clash of the Sword Blade and the Ghost Gold Stick, her beautiful face was engulfed inch by inch, swallowing the woman’s figure whole as she burned... Yet, she seemed to revel in it. As if it were meant to be. It was simply the liberation of her true nature after tearing off her disguise. The intent was to incinerate all beauty and charm, leaving behind only the ferocity and grimness of one walking calmly towards annihilation.

In that instant, a long-lost unease gripped Guo Ying’s heart as he sensed the immense power surging from beneath the Ghost Gold Stick.

”Ah, you shameless scoundrel!” the Blonde Thugs roared furiously from a distance, waving their chains in righteous indignation. ”This is too much! Throwing gasoline on such a beautiful woman!”

”Wake up, Barney! Nobody would dare throw gasoline on *that* thing,” World Blood Night Worry Ghost’s expression was stiff, sweat cascading from his forehead, nearly smudging his heavy-metal-singer-esque makeup. He couldn’t believe the scene before him, nor his own dawning horror. ”That’s... her Firepower erupting!”

Yes, literally—Firepower! Fully! Unleashed!

Darkness surged within the flames, raging. A loud BOOM thundered.

The Sword Blade pushed upwards, inch by inch, actually forcing back the heavy Ghost Gold Stick. The explosive power unleashed in that moment was too much even for the stone slabs beneath the Ghost Monk’s feet; they shattered, and his massive body slid backward.

The burning Blade of Resent pursued, lunging forward, slashing! It carved a deep, bone-visible gash across the Ghost Monk’s twisted face, nearly shredding one of his eyes.

Guo Ying howled in pain, flailing wildly with the Ghost Gold Stick as he staggered back. But Huai Shi didn’t pursue. She simply stood her ground, opened her mouth, and a torrent of restless Source Substance flames erupted from her lips and nostrils.

”I’ve seen this before! It’s Godzilla!” Barney, still oblivious, excitedly tugged at his older brother’s sleeve. ”Big bro, look, Godzilla! A nuclear Monster... and it’s a girl version?!”

”Moe, my ass!” World Blood Night Worry Ghost felt like he was losing his mind, envying his brother’s sheer simple-mindedness. Can’t you see, Barney? From the very beginning, that monster of a woman hasn’t even used her full strength! She was just toying with her prey...

Meanwhile, Huai Shi stared at her enemy, not too far off, and couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh, a wave of lingering fear washing over her.

That was close! Just now, I almost unconsciously used Yu Step and Drummer to pursue... Wouldn’t that have given me away? The Overload State is internal and not outwardly visible, so I can use it stealthily. But both Drummer’s Heaven Collapse and Yu Step’s earth-shrinking technique are practically my signature moves. Not to mention the Dragon Sway and Chords, which are unique to me alone. If I were to use any of my other characteristic weapons or techniques, I’d probably be exposed. Ever since my return from Hell, the news of Raven’s Metamorphosis has been confined within the research department, unknown to outsiders. After all, it’s a result of the Sun Caster’s legacy, kept confidential. But if I dared to pull out Beelzebub and fire a shot, the Yingzhou branch of the Astronomical Society would probably be at my door within two hours, inviting me on a ten-day ’therapeutic’ trip to a secluded mountain hot spring. Fortunately, when it comes to just the Performance Method, outsiders unfamiliar with its intricacies can’t detect anything amiss. The problem is... I’m not actually proficient with these Yingzhou-style blades.

She looked down at the Blade of Resent in her hand, which hummed softly, and shook her head in regret.

It’s not that I’m completely clueless. I instinctively know how a blade of this length should be handled, using the most universal principles of leverage and force. Beyond that, I know nothing. Things like Sword Zen, Lingering Mind, Sliding Footwork, Kiai, or Counter-Cuts... let alone the specialized secret arts and ultimate techniques of various schools. With my current approach, it wouldn’t make any difference if the weapon in my hand were an iron rod, the Sword of Virtue, or an Axe. Truly a pity. But if I don’t know how, it doesn’t matter. I just need to use it like something else.

She casually swung the Sword Blade, stepping forward, closer to her opponent.

BOOM!

A deafening, bell-like clang suddenly erupted.

The sweeping arc of the Ghost Gold Stick was shattered by Huai Shi’s seemingly casual swings. The club vibrated violently, as if about to fly from Guo Ying’s grasp, humming intensely. It was as if Huai Shi wasn’t wielding a Sword Blade at all, but an impossibly heavy iron hammer.

Incredible.

A mere casual swing stirred a hurricane, the low hum of the Sword Blade tearing through the air like an object of immense weight being tossed about. Then, just as quickly, its movements became light, agile, and silent, like a dagger leaving no whisper of disturbed air.

The long-missed application of Source Substance. In the past, I could imbue a dagger with the mass of the Axe of Anger. Imparting the weight of The Hammer of Sorrow onto the Blade of Resent now isn’t particularly surprising. It’s merely a simple, on-the-fly application when facing such a heavy, blunt weapon.

In the momentary silence, the Sword Blade within the fire danced, swung, and slashed at will. The sounds of it cleaving the air overlapped, coalescing into a powerful, distinct rhythm—a forceful and spirited four-four time.

This was a bizarre illusion only the one facing it could perceive, an experience Guo Ying had never encountered in his entire life. If the burly Ghost Monk had ever once stepped into a concert hall, ever witnessed a live performance, he would have understood: this was merely the prelude to a grand symphony, heralding the arrival of a tempest.

Huai Shi had switched the song. The performance was about to begin.

At that moment, a muscle near Guo Ying’s eye twitched. It felt as if an icy wind had blasted him head-on. Without reason, utterly incomprehensibly, he seemed to hear a hallucinatory roar... It was an intuitive premonition of danger.

”Do you hear it?” a hoarse, deep voice suddenly whispered beside his ear. ”That is the thunderous sound announcing the dawn.”

As the Sword Blade lifted, the burning figure stepped forward, drawing nearer, until, in what felt like no time at all, she was right before him. Compared to the hulking Ghost Monk, she was so slender and frail, yet she seemed to tower over him, looking down from an immense height.

Perhaps she said more, but Guo Ying, lost in shock, didn’t hear it clearly. He only caught the last two words.

She said, ”Stand ready.”

That instant, an explosion of sound erupted. A vast roar swept out, spreading from her hands. The burning Sword Blade had been raised, gripped in both hands, aimed at his face, and was now slashing down!

In essence, it was nothing more than the ”Tang Bamboo” stance, one of the most common forms in Sword Dao. One lifts the weapon, aims at the enemy, applies full strength, and chops downward. But now, as she tightly grasped the hilt of the Blade of Resent, even the surging flames around her began to dance in a frenzy, retreating in terror before the majestic melody about to unfold.

An unprecedented chill instantly enveloped Guo Ying’s Soul, compelling him to instinctively raise the Ghost Gold Stick with both hands, blocking in front of him.

Then, his vision went black, as if he’d been hit head-on by a truck.

He was stunned by the enormous, sudden force, finding it impossible to believe that such a terrifying, full-power strike could come from that small figure. The Ghost Gold Stick shrieked, trembling.

But he had, ultimately, blocked that dreadful strike! As a warrior monk from Mount Hiei, an Evil Ghost fallen to the path of impurity, the methods of combat were already etched into his very instincts. No thought was needed; the next step was to seize this brief opening and counterattack. Use his hands, his feet, his fists, stomp, grab her head with his five fingers, and brutally crush it. Then, pulverize her into mincemeat with the Ghost Gold Stick.

That’s how it should have been. It absolutely should have been like that.

But what was happening now... was completely different from what he had imagined!

Because after that furious strike ended, what awaited him was not a precious moment to catch his breath, but another terrifying crisis. A repeat performance, as smooth as flowing clouds and running water.

The Sword Blade that had just slashed down was raised once more. Gripped in both hands, imbued with immense force, she mustered all her strength and slashed downward again!

The second strike, with no respite!

The Ghost Gold Stick shuddered violently, letting out a mournful wail. Cracks spiderwebbed across Guo Ying’s ten fingers, and they trembled uncontrollably.

Amid the expanding roar, leaving him no room to even gasp for air, he saw the blade lift a third time. It rose high, aimed at his face, and then—CHOP!

The third strike!

A boom even greater than before erupted, the shockwave spreading. Guo Ying suddenly felt a heavy stupor, and he struggled for breath. His ferocious, horned face turned a shade of cyan. He felt like he was suffocating...

How is this possible? It’s incomprehensible, utterly bewildering! Why would such a crude technique even exist? Why is there no opening in her attacks, not even the slightest disarray in her breathing? It’s as if I’m not facing a human, but something of steel, something superior to a mere mortal.

In that instant, realization finally struck him.

From within that raging, fiery silhouette, he glimpsed something intangible: an unbelievably massive weapon, an immense cannon that seemed like the very crystallization of warfare. Only cannon fire could describe this unreasonable, terrifying impact.

As the myriad echoes of the concussive blows lingered, resonating through his sturdy bones and finally reaching his brain, they transformed into the illusion of a magnificent, symphonic melody. It was the legendary composition by Tchaikovsky, a piece born from resisting Rome’s invasion, celebrating victory in a patriotic war. It depicted the brutality and tragic grandeur of conflict through a sweeping symphony. Ultimately, with cannon fire like a divine descent, it announced the invader’s demise and the arrival of victory!

—Overture in E-flat major, ”1812.”

Now, accompanied by that illusory melody, the solemn cannonade began!

In the distance, the Bōsōzoku brothers from Edo were utterly awestruck by the horrifying spectacle. Like an Evil God descended from Hell to the mortal realm, the burning figure brandished her blade. Each slash unleashed thunderous roars and booms like a Thunderbolt.

One slash, two slashes, three slashes…

The high-pitched shrieks of metal overlapped, crescendoing into a deafening cacophony like a torrential downpour. Each blow made the Giant Ghost before her tremble in terror, yet the next strike would only bring fresh despair and a deeper shadow of doom.

The cannon-like slashes were unending. Without Mercy, without weakness, without any pause... she unleashed a ruthless Heaven Punishment upon the Demon before her!

Until he was utterly reduced to Ashes, crushed into dregs!