Apocalypse Forecast

Chapter 1051: Chapter 814: Are You Ready?

Fuck, why is it me!

In that moment, under everyone’s gaze, the Wood Cottage went dark before his eyes and he almost burst into tears.

Why am I always the unlucky one!

And also, why the hell am I automatically the most useless one...

Seeing Yuan Yuan next to him grinning so wide his mouth wouldn’t close, the Wood Cottage shivered with a chill.

Just what does this teacher want from his little tool person before he’s satisfied with how I live.

But anger was anger, fear was fear, the teacher had already spoken; he didn’t dare bail, so he could only grit his teeth, stand up, and walk forward step by step, feeling the prickling eyes stabbing into his back from all around.

Every step felt like walking through mud.

He forced out a stiff smile.

Right now, he finally remembered what Huai Shi had said when he came.

—Go boldly, and leave in glory...

Now that he was finally about to leave, he realized: so this is what "glory" meant?

Honestly, it did not feel like a peaceful departure.

Seeing how he was trembling and guilty as hell, a wave of boos rose from all around. Just from his posture you could tell he was some scrub with sloppy skills—how was he supposed to share the stage with a dojo instructor who taught swordsmanship!

Huai Shi acted like he heard nothing, waving for the Wood Cottage to come over.

"How is it?"

He smiled in encouragement. "Confident?"

"..."

The Wood Cottage squeezed out a smile that was only barely better than crying. "Teacher, I didn’t bring a sword when I left home today."

He exaggerated his winking, signaling for Huai Shi to hurry up and pull one out of his Great Treasure Sword to save his pathetic life. But before Huai Shi could answer, the Great Tengu watching the show and fanning the flames raised his hand.

"Then use this old man’s."

With that, he casually drew.

Like plucking a feather, he pulled an insignificant quill from the massive wings hidden in the void, and it gleamed with cold light.

The pitch‑black Tachi felt heavy in his grip, the Sword Blade razor‑sharp, beyond the level of slicing hair—anyone could see it was a rare fine blade.

In the hands of a Samurai who honed it with spirit and skill for a few years, then found an Alchemist to fuse it in a Mystic Ritual, it’d casually become a Border Relic.

"It’s yours."

The Great Tengu tossed it over as if it meant nothing.

"Aren’t you going to thank your Predecessor." Huai Shi sighed helplessly, like a parent watching a kid cluelessly take someone’s New Year’s money.

"I...I’ll thank you then."

The Wood Cottage was so mad he was about to cry.

"Hahaha, not worth mentioning. Just swing by the main kitchen at this old man’s Tengu Mountain sometime and lend a hand," the Great Tengu laughed heartily. "I’m still short a kid to pound rice. Huai Shi little bro, you don’t mind, right?"

"Being noticed by a Predecessor like you is his honor."

Huai Shi nodded with a smile.

If this was the past, hearing he could go to Tengu Mountain for free Chef Demon training, the Wood Cottage might’ve been so happy he laughed out loud. But now he could only cry like a little cat.

Would he even live to see that training day?

This is just...there’s no way he can win!

Let Yuan Yuan go up instead, that’d be more like it!

If he could legitimately accept a formal duel from a dojo instructor who taught sword skills, why would he be messing around at the entrance in the first place?

"Here, drink this bowl of wine and then go."

Huai Shi picked up the filled bowl in front of him and handed it over. "Don’t be nervous, just perform at your usual level."

This isn’t the damn college entrance exam!

What the hell is "perform at your usual level" supposed to mean...

The Wood Cottage clenched his teeth, picked up the big wine bowl before him, and drained it in a few gulps. He wanted to slam it down and smash it, but thought about it and carefully set it back on the table instead.

Huai Shi patted his shoulder, smiling with a deep, cryptic look.

He asked, "Ready?"

The Wood Cottage’s blood suddenly surged, his face flushed red; he was already faint from the alcohol. But right after, waves of scorching heat rose from within his body.

Hot.

So hot.

Like he’d been set on fire.

In a daze, he suddenly realized he seemed to have entered...an Overload State?

As the Source Substance surged up, endless ferocity and killing intent surfaced from beneath that face used to wearing harmless smiles.

The Ascend to a high ranking in his shadow transformed into a projection, tearing through its restraints, revealing its own ferocious silhouette.

That cold gaze swept across with the Wood Cottage.

The Malice that had been tempered countless times spread out, pure as it was overwhelming, like a raging flood, freezing the bustling banquet hall in an instant.

At this moment, far away in the Current Circumstances, countless Ravens’ scarlet eyes hung down from the Sky Dome above Tanbo District, overlooking from afar, sending down the blessing of the Hell Swarm.

His pupils turned silver‑white, like molten steel at a boil, blazing with searing light.

The wild nature inside could no longer be hidden.

From above, that cruel overlooking gaze alone made countless hearts fill with an indescribable chill and fear.

In an instant, deathly silence fell. Sheng Lai’s eye twitched; he seemed to suddenly remember—this shameless, despicable Little Brag might look sly, but at his core he was nothing like those trash who only bullied the weak and feared the strong.

That was just a persona.

Nothing more than the rules of a tabletop role‑playing game.

He was one of the inheritors of the holy name Future of the Candle Illuminator, a noble‑blooded child of sin from birth, a freak that morality could neither bind nor measure.

The judgments of the world meant nothing to him.

As long as this ever‑rising Path of Karma continued, he would forever be the The Evil Eater, one of the symbols of Hell.

Now, the Wood Cottage gripped his sword and smiled at Huai Shi, answering his question.

"I’m ready, teacher."

"Then go."

Huai Shi nodded in relief. "You don’t have to stand behind me. You can stand in front of everyone."

"Mm."

The boy nodded. When he looked back, his smile slowly faded as he walked step by step toward the opponent before him.

He said, "Please show me your guidance."

Snapping out of that instant of shock, Sheng Lai returned once more to his cold composure and solemnity.

As the man-slayer who had once roamed unopposed along the Border, how could he be fooled by such a posture? That accursed Power was indeed so still and pure it inspired terror, who knew from how much malice and demonic miasma such an essence had been distilled.

But even if, by stretching it, one could say they stood shoulder to shoulder, a decisive gulf still yawned between them—strength mattered, yes, yet the skill in wielding that strength was what truly determined the outcome.

After hundreds, thousands of battles, after a lifetime’s tempering, his swordcraft had reached consummate mastery precisely for this moment.

With such an unsightly stance, all it would take was a single instant to shatter it, then drive straight in—wrist, belly, heart, throat, even skull, every vital point would be laid bare...

Practically begging to be butchered!

Perhaps this was for the best; so long as he made this arrogant Little Brag pay the price here, Second Young Master’s authority could still be salvaged.

He would only be upholding the honor of the Dojo; no one could censure him.

Even if the Dojo and Tanbo went to war because of this, it would only further expand their own power.

In that very instant, a murderous gleam flared up from some depth within him, and the killing intent he had amassed over so many years along the Border erupted as he drew his sword.

Yet at that moment, a keening wail burst in his ear.

Sheng Lai stared, dumbfounded, only to discover that his opponent had not taken up cautious defense at all, but instead, relying on that posture riddled with holes, launched a fierce "Offensive" straight at him.

Just like his teacher, in that instant, he brushed aside everything to use the simplest, most naked form of attack.

—Advance step, Tang Bamboo!

The venomous darkness of the Path of Karma gathered upon that single stroke, to the point that the lights overhead began to sway, as darkness surged, rolling in like the tide.

To call it swordsmanship was less accurate than to say it was some sort of sorcery lodged upon the Sword Blade!

But to block such a move did not even require retreat.

Just a crossing in the space of a finger-snap—a parry, a redirection, then a counterattack—and the victor would be decided.

The fool was utterly courting his own...

Boom!

At that instant, the blades met.

Sheng Lai fell into a stupor; in his ears there came a thunderclap like an illusion, as though heaven and earth roared.

The sky spun, the earth shuddered, everything on all sides resounded in answer, the entire world seemed to be raising its voice in song—from within his shell of flesh.

This was only an illusion.

Yet his consciousness nonetheless experienced a pause that defied all logic.

For with the clash of steel, in the span of a heartbeat, countless vibrations back and forth traveled together with the Curse, using the joined blades as a bridge, pouring into his body.

The Source Substance resonance of the Wood Cottage, its heartbeats and even the pounding of its bloodline, after mixing with the essence of that karmic evil and venomous sorcery, fused into a single thread.

It effortlessly smashed through all his defenses, spreading up from the hilt—five fingers, wrist—and in an instant, across his entire body.

Detonation!

His vision went black.

There was a fleeting instant of dazedness.

He closed his eyes, opened them again, and everything before him was utterly changed; in that wavering darkness, he was still standing where he had been.

Opposite him, the Wood Cottage had already sheathed his sword, returned to his original position.

He looked at him with a half-smile.

He flexed his fingers.

1, 2, 3, 4... 5!

The instant all five fingers curled back, a crisp cracking sound rang out, right before him, like an illusion.

"What’s going on?"

Sheng Lai’s eyes bulged as he demanded in anger, "Are you looking down on me..."

That face, fissuring without him even realizing, slowly twisted; pitch-black blood seeped from his seven orifices, and as he spoke, a violent fit of coughing burst forth, viscous blood surging from lungs that had abruptly ruptured.

The last scene he saw was the man seated behind the Wood Cottage raising a hand to lift the wine cup on the table, smiling as he offered a toast, downing it in one draught.

A farewell, thus given.

Then the earth and the darkness lunged toward him.

In the deathly silence, the hall fell utterly still.

Only the blood slowly pooling beneath the fainted, convulsing Sheng Lai spread outward, its reflection turning everyone’s face pale.

He had not even been able to withstand a single exchange!

Soon, appreciative applause sounded.

"Not bad, truly not bad, hahahaha, this has been a real eye-opener." The Great Tengu raised both hands, utterly ignoring the looks on everyone’s faces, laughing in mocking delight. "To think I’d witness such a surprise today—truly delightful... Shangquan, how does it feel?"

"Times change, the myriad forms renew."

Before the great doors, the old man who had been watching replied, "The new generation, naturally, must surpass the old. This is good."

The old man lauded as the Sword Saint calmly waved a hand, signaling his subordinates to lift Sheng Lai from the ground and take him for treatment, then strode forward at an unhurried pace—yet this made Ling HuaiShi feel an indescribable sense of dissonance.

So subtle.

And yet so... out of tune.

He tensed up instinctively.

Because he could not hear the old man’s "sound" at all—more precisely... he could not sense the other’s heartbeat, pulse, not even the faintest Source Fluctuation.

As if a Phantom, not truly present here.

No, rather, he had never... been here in the first place!

So what was it that he was seeing?

And what was it that everyone else was seeing?

An illusion?

Or perhaps...

In that instant, as the old man brushed past the Wood Cottage, he patted the young man’s shoulder, giving Huai Shi a half-smile.

He did not expose his trick; instead, he inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment.

In Huai Shi’s eyes, the body of the Shangquan Sword Saint suddenly blurred, then once more condensed, a heartbeat, a pulse, and deep, far-reaching Source Substance fluctuations emerging into view.

He grew ever more solid.

And ever more clearly revealed the "illusory" nature of his being.

Huai Shi broke out in a cold sweat, at last understanding.

He was right here.

Or rather... he believed he ought to be here, and so, everyone saw him as being here.

This was an Extreme Interpretation beyond anything he could even imagine!