Chapter 9: A Turnaround in Desperation

The low growl of the Bloodshadow Beast echoed through the valley, its crimson eyes locking onto Ye Huang with an almost tangible killing intent. The moment of attack was imminent.

Yet, instead of cowering, Ye Huang stood taller. His silver-white hair swayed gently in the night breeze, and his golden eyes gleamed with a fierce, untamed brilliance.

"It's over."

His whisper carried the weight of finality. The short blade in his hand erupted with inky-black demonic energy, no longer the wild and uncontrollable force it once was. Now, it was refined—solid, precise, and seamlessly merging with the darkness itself.

The Bloodshadow Beast sensed the change. With a deafening roar, it sprang forward, its enormous body transforming into a blur of shadows, aiming to strike first.

"Too slow."

Ye Huang's voice slithered through the air like a phantom.

In the blink of an eye, his figure vanished.

Then—

Shhhk!

A streak of black light sliced through the night, piercing straight into the beast's throat.

Its pupils contracted in shock. Its massive frame tensed mid-motion, and then, with a violent shudder, blood gushed forth like a crimson fountain.

Ye Huang now stood behind the beast, retracting his short blade, the inky energy dispersing into the air.

The Bloodshadow Beast attempted to roar, but its throat had been cleanly severed. Only a feeble, gurgling growl escaped before its body collapsed with a thunderous crash, kicking up clouds of dust.

Silence.

Not far away, Akatō stood frozen, his grip on his weapon tightening involuntarily. His hands trembled slightly.

"How… how did he do that?"

He couldn't believe it. In that fleeting instant, he had completely lost track of Ye Huang's movements.

Ye Huang exhaled slowly, glancing at his own hands. He could feel the raw power coursing through him, no longer a reckless storm but a force entirely under his command.

This time, it wasn't a loss of control.

It was absolute mastery.

Before he could relish the moment, hurried footsteps echoed from the valley's entrance.

Ye Huang's expression darkened as he looked up.

A group of figures in black cloaks approached swiftly, their auras deep and eerie, like phantoms slipping through the night.

"Finally found you…" The lead figure murmured, eyes fixed intently on Ye Huang, glimmering with a dangerous light.

Akatō snapped out of his daze, his voice low with caution. "Ye Huang, be careful! These guys… they're not normal!"

Ye Huang said nothing. He merely tilted his head slightly, a faint, unreadable smile curving his lips.

"Perfect timing."

His grip tightened around the short blade, and once again, dark energy surged forth.

Ye Huang's movements blurred into streaks of shadows, faster than the cloaked figures could register. Every dodge was preemptive, every attack surgically precise.

"Damn brat!" The lead figure snarled. Enraged, his body erupted with turbulent demonic energy, distorting the air around him. Slamming his hands onto the ground, he summoned writhing black tendrils from the shadows, forming chains that lashed out toward Ye Huang, aiming to bind him.

Ye Huang's gaze sharpened.

He could sense it—these shadow chains carried a restrictive force. If caught, he wouldn't just be trapped; he'd be devoured.

"Not a chance."

A burst of power erupted from within him. The golden and black hues of his Phantom Night Force intertwined around his body, and in the next instant—

He vanished.

The cloaked figure's expression twisted in shock.

Before he could react—

A suffocating killing intent descended upon him from behind.

"What?!"

BOOM!

Ye Huang materialized at his back, a pitch-black longblade forming in his grasp. The blade gleamed with an ethereal golden glow, resembling a weapon forged from the very fabric of nightmares.

"Phantom Night Slash—Final Judgment."

Ye Huang's voice was cold and resolute.

The blade fell.

Darkness swallowed the battlefield.

A gut-wrenching scream pierced the void—only to be cut short.

As the shadows receded, Ye Huang stood motionless, his longblade fading into nothingness. At his feet, the cloaked figure knelt, his body severed at the waist. His face was frozen in disbelief and terror.

"How… how can this be…?" His lips trembled, but before he could utter another word, his form disintegrated into ash, scattered by the night wind.

Silence blanketed the valley once more.

The remaining demons watched in horror, their bodies stiff with fear. The once-dreaded black-cloaked figure had been eradicated in a single strike.

Then, one by one, they dropped to their knees.

Fear replaced contempt. No longer did they look at Ye Huang with disdain.

Now, it was reverence.

And terror.

Ye Huang swept his gaze across them, his golden eyes void of warmth.

This battle had changed everything.

He was no longer an underdog.

His presence alone commanded submission.

But within, his heart remained restless. As he stood amid the aftermath, his fingers brushed over his palm. Where did this power truly come from?

His mind replayed the moment he first tapped into Phantom Night Force—the eerie sensation, the overwhelming surge.

And now, this battle had only deepened the mystery.

He turned toward the ruins in the distance. The fight was over, but the truth… still lay buried.

As he walked through the wreckage, his fingers traced the cracks of an ancient stone tablet, faint remnants of demonic energy lingering upon its surface. His brows furrowed.

And then—his gaze landed on the inscriptions.

"On the Night of Shadow's End, the Void shall reignite… The Sealed Gate must never be opened."

Ye Huang's fingers pressed against the cold stone.

A pulse.

A whisper.

A wisp of black mist seeped through the cracks, swirling into a vague silhouette—a spectral figure emanating an ancient aura.

"Ye Huang…"

A voice, deep and echoing, drifted from the apparition.

Ye Huang took a wary step back, eyes sharp. "Who are you?"

"You have awakened… but this is only the beginning. The path ahead is long… and perilous."

The figure's voice faded, and the mist was drawn back into the stone, as if it had never been there.

Ye Huang stood still, his mind churning.

Then—

Footsteps.

Measured. Unhurried.

"I didn't expect anyone else to be here."

Ye Huang's head snapped up, his gaze locking onto the newcomer.

A man in deep blue robes approached with casual ease, his sharp eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. Yet, beneath that mirth was a depth as unfathomable as the abyss.

"Who are you?" Ye Huang's voice carried no warmth.

The man smiled faintly, flicking his sleeve. "White Night Alliance. One of the Gate's guardians." His eyes gleamed. "Ye Huang, we need to talk."

A storm was brewing.