The old man's voice vanished into the wind.
Dust still floated in the golden light. The crowd was frozen—trapped between awe and disbelief.
Feng Yun stepped forward from the rubble. Each footstep cracked stone beneath him.
His once-crimson blade now glowed black—a shifting void, stretching longer, broader. The wind howled around it.
Feng Han took a shaky step back.
"That sword… it's alive…"
Feng Yun's voice came, quieter than before—but heavier.
"You claimed the gods chose you." He lifted the greatsword.
"Then let them speak again."
He vanished.
Han barely raised his spear in time—
CLANG!
The impact rattled through his arms. He staggered.
Feng Yun struck again.
CLANG!
The third blow nearly knocked Han off his feet. His knees trembled.
"He's… faster. Stronger than before…"
Blood dripped from Feng Yun's shoulder, but he moved like a man reborn—eyes glowing faintly, as if some ancient force had awakened inside him.
Han roared, summoning what Qi he had left.
"You're just a shadow! A broken ghost wearing my brother's skin!"
He charged.
Feng Yun didn't move.
Han lunged, convinced he saw an opening.
His spear struck true—But there was no resistance.Only mist.
Feng Yun's image shimmered and vanished.
An afterimage.
Realization hit too late.
Behind him, the real Feng Yun appeared—silent, swift.
With one ruthless thrust, the blood-forged greatsword drove into Han's abdomen.
CRACK.
Han's eyes widened.
He gasped.
Blood burst from his mouth as he crumpled to his knees, the blade still buried deep in his gut.
The crowd was silent. Even Van and the general stood frozen.
But Feng Yun turned his gaze from the silent crowd to the two in the royal box—then back to his dying brother.
He knelt, placed a hand gently on Han's pale face, and for a moment… a single tear slid down his cheek.
"You don't understand," Feng Yun said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"This was never about proof.
Not revenge.
Not even you."
"Hatred?"
Heh.
You think I did all this because I hated you?
No, brother.
You don't deserve my hatred.
What you've done… doesn't even register.
You're not worth enough to hate.
To me—you're just an obstacle.
And if you weren't sitting on that throne?
I would've spared you.
I would've forgiven you, even.
But you took what was mine.
So your fate was sealed.
As for that little story… about you kidnapping and selling those children?
A lie.
I crafted it.
Not because it was true—but because it was useful.
Because you're predictable.
Because I knew you'd crack under pressure.
From the moment I stepped into this match, I began weaving my web.
And now you're tangled in it.
Even this wound on my shoulder?
Planned.
Deliberate.
Let them think I bleed.
Let them think I feel.
Let them think I weep for you.
These tears?
Not grief, brother.
Just decoration.
Because today, they needed to see a man…
Not the true me I've become.
Feng Yun's words drifted through the bloodied air… and shattered Han's mind.
Han's knees buckled as he listened. Tears streamed down his face—not of pain, not of pride… but of something worse.
Realization.
"A demon. That's what he is… and I'm not even worthy of his hatred."
Han gripped his chest, the weight of it all crushing his lungs. "If someone like him sits on the throne... what will become of this kingdom?"
Feng Yun's voice sliced through the silence. Low. Calm. Final.
"Let Ares pass his divine judgment? Hmph... Foolish tradition. A god's verdict is as blind as the men who worship him."
He stepped forward, eyes cold as the abyss.
"I never trusted gods. Leaving your fate in another's hands? That's not faith. That's surrender. I simply acted the part—so the crowd could believe they witnessed something divine. But it was never about Ares. He lies on his golden bed while mortals tear each other apart for his silence."
Then, silence. Feng Yun's gaze met Feng Han's.
And what he saw…
It was nothing.
Lifeless eyes.
The fire in Han's soul—extinguished. His last weapon—hope—shattered.
Feng Yun moved his hand and placed it gently atop Feng Han's lifeless head.
"Devour."
A vortex of black energy surged from his palm.
Han's body shuddered—then began to wither.
| DING… Congratulations, Host. You have advanced to the Awakened Path—5th Stage. |
| Current Status: || Name: Feng Yun || Age: 230+ years || Realm: Awakened Path—5th Stage || Skills: Devour—Soul Eater, Serpent Steps, Blood Art, Shura Sword Art |
He rose slowly and turned to Shin.
Shin's voice trembled, but he bowed deeply and declared,
"By divine judgment of Lord Ares, the war god himself… our rightful king is Feng Yun!"
The arena erupted in cheers.
Even those who had once supported Feng Han now shouted Feng Yun's name—because in the eyes of the crowd, only victors deserve loyalty.
Suddenly, a figure leapt from the crowd and embraced him.
"Father!" the boy cried out, laughter breaking through tears. "You did it! You actually did it! Your dream came true—hahaha!"
It was Feng Yichen.
But Feng Yun didn't hug back.
He simply looked down at him and thought in his mind,
"Dream? No, child. This… was just a step. The path to my true goal begins now."
Up in the royal box, tension wrapped the last two traitors in silence.
Minister Van swallowed hard. "…Do you think he'll forgive us?"
The general didn't look at him. His eyes stayed locked on the battlefield. "We're nobles. He can't kill us… right?"
They descended the steps, their pride already discarded. Standing before Feng Yun, they bowed low.
"Your Majesty," they said in unison, voices almost trembling. "We pledge loyalty—true and unshakable. No more betrayal. No more lies."
Feng Yun looked down at them.
Then laughed.
Cold. Controlled. Cruel.
"Oaths?" he said, as if tasting the word. "Just like the ones you took last time? Right before slipping poison into my cup?"
He stepped forward. Both men instinctively took a step back.
"You speak of loyalty now… But I remember your kind of truth."
His eyes narrowed.
"Cowardice. Fear. Survival."
He turned his back on them.
"That's all you understand."