I Become Sect master In Another World-Chapter 186 — Until the Last Breath
The crater still burned.
Stone glowed faintly violet where the Sun of Extinction had struck.
The air above it twisted in uneven ripples, heat and corrupted qi tangling together like dying serpents.
Smoke rolled low across shattered terraces, swallowing broken pillars and splintered halls.
At the center—
Lin Shu lay unmoving.
Her robes were torn through in multiple places, fabric fused to skin by heat.
Blood ran freely from her shoulder, from her ribs, from the corner of her mouth.
One arm trembled uncontrollably. Her sword lay beside her—
Cracked down the middle.
Its blue glow flickering weakly.
Her breathing was shallow.
Thin.
Barely there.
Across the battlefield—
Qin Morian stood.
Unhurried.
Violet aura coiling lazily around him.
And he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not wildly.
Just... pleased.
"Protect her!"
Elder Wu roared, slamming his palm down.
The ground exploded upward beneath charging creatures, crushing three flat before they could reach Lin Shu’s fallen body. Bones snapped. Blood sprayed.
Elder Jian Fan surged beside him, golden aura igniting around both fists.
"Twin Crushing Impact!"
He punched forward.
Two compressed blasts of radiant energy tore through the horde, vaporizing bodies in straight, brutal lines.
Elder Wan’s knees nearly gave out when he forced himself upright.
Blood ran down from his hairline, slipping over one eye, dripping from his chin onto already-blackened stone. His breath came in sharp, uneven pulls—but his fingers were already moving.
Shaking.
Precise.
He dragged his palm through the air.
Emerald light followed.
Lines etched themselves midair—one stroke, then another—runes snapping into place with metallic clicks that echoed through the battlefield. The formation circle bloomed above his head, spinning violently as veins stood out along his temples.
"Break—!" he rasped.
His hand slammed downward.
The emerald formation detonated outward like a cracking bell.
Across the sky—
The Mirror-Cage trembled.
Hexagonal mirrors that had been rotating smoothly around Elder An Ning and Elder Feng Yu suddenly flickered. Their surfaces rippled like disturbed water. Hairline fractures raced across each reflective pane, thin lines of emerald crawling through violet glass.
Inside the cage—
An Ning felt it first.
The pressure shifted.
Feng Yu’s eyes snapped toward one of the mirrors as its surface splintered from within.
CRACK.
One pane shattered.
Then another.
Then ten at once.
The entire spherical prison imploded in a violent cascade of exploding shards. Violet fragments burst outward like a storm of broken stars, slicing through air and embedding themselves into the stone terraces below.
Shadow and wind exploded outward from the collapsing center.
Elder An Ning burst free mid-lunge, boots grinding across nothing as shadow coiled violently around his blade.
Elder Feng Yu followed half a breath behind, robes snapping in the shockwave, silver aura flaring sharp and clean.
They did not look at each other.
They did not need to.
Both saw the same opening.
They launched.
The sky warped under their acceleration.
Shadow stretched long and thin beneath An Ning’s sword, darkness compressing into a blade so dense it swallowed light around it.
"Shadow Severing Heaven!"
He swung.
The strike didn’t travel.
It tore.
A massive arc of condensed night ripped forward, carving a black scar across the sky itself. The air screamed as it was forced apart, fragments of broken mirror vaporizing instantly in its wake.
From the opposite angle—
Feng Yu rose into the air, body twisting as silver wind wrapped around his blade in spiraling currents.
"Flowing Heaven Cut!"
He slashed downward.
A luminous crescent of compressed wind split free from his sword, razor-thin yet wide enough to swallow buildings. The edges hummed so sharply the sound cut into bone. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦
Black and silver met mid-flight.
Not colliding—
Interlocking.
The two techniques spiraled together, shadow and wind twisting into a single destructive torrent that descended toward Qin Morian like a falling guillotine.
Below—
Stone cracked under the pressure.
Loose debris lifted from the ground and was dragged upward into the path of the converging blades, instantly shredded into dust.
Qin Morian stood at the center of it all.
Robes fluttering gently.
He did not step back.
He did not dodge.
He simply raised one hand.
Violet light folded outward from his palm in a perfect circle.
Lines etched themselves into existence in a single, smooth motion—one rotating disk, layered with interlocking sigils that locked together with absolute precision.
The formation finished forming a breath before impact.
The combined slash struck.
CLANG—
The sound was not steel on steel.
It was reality protesting.
Shadow and wind crashed into the translucent disk, pressure flattening outward in violent waves.
Shock rippled across the terraces. Disciples were forced to brace as the air detonated around them.
For a moment—
The formation bent.
Sigils flared brighter.
The surface of the disk warped inward, cracks of light racing across it as the twin blades pushed.
Then—
The runes shifted.
Rearranged.
Locked.
The black and silver torrent collapsed against the formation.
Not shattered.
Not deflected.
Swallowed.
The massive intertwined slash compressed violently into a single point at the center of the disk.
Shadow peeled away first, consumed into spinning violet rings. Silver followed, shredded into fine threads before dissolving completely.
The sky went still.
Where the devastating strike had been—
There was nothing.
Qin Morian lowered his hand slowly.
The formation disk faded into drifting motes of violet light.
Not a scratch.
Not a step moved.
His gaze lifted to the two elders hovering before him.
Calm.
Unimpressed.
"Is that all?"
Then—
The air bent wrong.
The violet formation disk did not simply fade.
It shimmered.
And from its surface—
Something peeled off.
An Ning felt it before he saw it.
A pressure behind his ribs.
A familiar weight.
His eyes widened—
Too late.
A crescent of pure darkness ripped out from the side of the fading disk.
His darkness.
His exact cut.
It screamed across the sky at a crooked angle, coming from where no enemy stood.
"Behind—!"
Feng Yu’s warning overlapped with impact.
An Ning twisted midair, but not enough.
The reflected shadow blade tore across his shoulder, biting deep. Flesh split. Blood sprayed in a hot arc that painted the sky red.
He grunted, body spinning off-balance.
Before he could stabilize—
A second shriek tore the air.
Silver.
Feng Yu’s own wind arc burst out from another angle—this time from behind them, warping space as it returned twice as sharp.
"Damn it—!"
Feng Yu pivoted, sword snapping up instinctively—
Too slow.
The reflected strike carved across his thigh, slicing through robe and skin. Blood streamed instantly. His leg buckled mid-air.
They both crashed down hard.
Stone shattered under the impact as they skidded across the terrace, boots tearing trenches through cracked rock. Dust exploded around them.
An Ning rolled onto one knee, blood dripping from his arm.
Feng Yu landed beside him, breathing ragged, one hand gripping his injured leg to force it steady.
Above them—
Qin Morian tilted his head.
Almost curious.
"Predictable," he said softly.
White aura detonated from the side.
"Shut your mouth!"
Elder Wu charged.
His fist was already drawn back, golden-white energy condensing so tightly around his knuckles that the air howled. Elder Jian Fan surged beside him, brown earth-aura coiling up his arms like living armor.
They didn’t coordinate verbally.
They didn’t need to.
Wu leapt first.
His punch split the air, pressure blasting outward in a straight line that crushed debris flat beneath it.
Jian Fan followed half a breath behind, palm striking forward. The ground beneath Qin Morian cracked as a column of compressed earth-force erupted upward like a spear.
Two attacks.
Two directions.
Enough to crush a mountain.
Qin Morian stepped sideways.
That was all.
Not rushed.
Not forced.
His body shifted just inches as both attacks tore past him.
Wu’s punch missed by the width of a finger—
—and obliterated the cliff wall behind.
BOOOOOOM—
Stone disintegrated in a violent cascade. Entire slabs of mountain vanished, replaced by a smoking canyon carved straight through the rock face.
Jian Fan’s earth-force followed, punching through the exposed cliff and blasting open a second hollow deeper into the mountain’s heart.
Dust swallowed the horizon.
Qin Morian appeared in front of Jian Fan.
No blur.
No warning.
Just—
There.
Jian Fan’s eyes widened.
A palm struck his chest.
CRACK.
The sound was sickening.
Ribs folded inward as violet force detonated through his torso. Blood exploded from his mouth in a red mist.
He flew backward like a rag doll, body smashing through broken stone and skidding across rubble before finally going still.
"JIAN FAN!" Wu roared.
He turned—
Too late.
A knee drove into his abdomen.
CRACK.
Wu’s body folded around the blow as air blasted from his lungs. The impact lifted him off his feet and hurled him backward through a collapsed section of terrace.
He crashed through rubble in a thunderous spray of stone.
Qin Morian lowered his leg calmly.
Behind him—
Silver flared.
Elder Wan staggered forward, boots sliding in blood as he forced himself upright again. His vision swam. His breath rattled in his chest.
But his hands—
Still moved.
Silver aura ignited violently around him, not smooth—wild. Furious. Desperate.
"Not... yet..." Wan growled through blood.
Light condensed between his palms.
Not gently.
It dragged inward violently, pulling shards of broken stone into orbit around it. A sphere formed—dense, unstable—stars spinning chaotically inside its core.
The ground cracked under the pressure.
Wind reversed direction, sucked toward the orb as it grew.
Wan’s arms trembled.
Veins bulged.
Blood streamed from his nose—but he screamed anyway.
"—!"
He thrust both hands forward.
The silver sphere tore across the battlefield, dragging a vortex of debris in its wake. Stone slabs lifted and shattered as the orb screamed toward Qin Morian.
Qin Morian didn’t chant.
Didn’t trace a sigil.
He stepped forward.
One fist came up.
Violet light pulsed once.
He punched.
The impact wasn’t loud.
It was absolute.
The silver orb met his fist—
—and collapsed inward.
Not shattered.
Compressed.
The stars inside it blinked out one by one as if snuffed by a god’s thumb.
Then—
The orb exploded backward.
Silver light detonated in reverse, blasting toward its creator.
Elder Wan’s eyes widened.
The backlash hit.
BOOOOM—
His body was flung off his feet like a broken doll, slamming across the terrace, rolling, bouncing, smashing through shattered pillars before finally crashing against a fractured wall.
He lay there, chest barely rising.
Blood pooling beneath him.
Qin Morian lowered his fist slowly.
Violet aura flickered around his knuckles.
He exhaled.
Then—
The ground beneath Qin Morian cracked.
Not from impact.
From growth.
Emerald light burst through the stone in jagged veins, racing outward in branching patterns. The terrace split apart as thick roots tore free from below, coiling upward like awakened serpents.
"Forest Binding!"
Elder Hua’s voice rang sharp despite the blood at her lips.
The roots lunged.
They wrapped around Qin Morian’s ankles first—then his calves—then spiraled higher, bark-hard and glowing with pulsing emerald runes. Thorned vines snapped tight around his wrists, dragging his arms down. More shot up behind him, locking across his shoulders, binding him in a cage of living wood.
The air thickened with the scent of sap and ozone.
The roots tightened.
Stone beneath them cracked as pressure multiplied.
For half a heartbeat—
He was still.
Then violet light flared.
Not outward.
Inward.
The vines blackened instantly, emerald glow flickering as if choked.
CRACK—CRACK—CRACK—
Every root disintegrated at once.
Not cut.
Reduced to ash.
The fragments didn’t fall.
They burned away midair.
Qin Morian stepped forward through drifting cinders.
Appeared in front of Elder Hua.
No rush.
No wasted motion.
Just there.
Her pupils shrank.
His hand rose slowly.
"Don’t you dare."
Shadow split the air.
A blade carved across Qin Morian’s wrist, forcing his hand off its path by inches. Violet sparks exploded where steel kissed aura.
Elder An Ning landed between them.
Boots grinding into broken stone.
Blood ran freely from his chin, dripping from his jaw to the ground below. His shoulder wound still bled openly, dark red soaking into torn robes. Shadow aura flickered violently around him—unstable, ragged, but burning.
His sword lowered slightly.
"You’re not leaving," he said, voice hoarse but steady.
Qin Morian’s eyes rested on him.
Measured.
"Level One Spirit Lord," he murmured.
A pause.
"...Impressive."
The air snapped.
They vanished.
No blur.
No streak.
The space where they had stood imploded, stone collapsing inward as both figures folded into motion faster than sound.
A shockwave tore outward midair.
CLANG—!
Steel met palm.
Shadow erupted like a black sun as An Ning’s blade carved downward, violet pressure colliding with it in a violent burst that flattened nearby rubble.
They separated—
—and collided again.
An Ning twisted midair, blade flashing in three rapid arcs, each one layered with compressed shadow that warped light around its edge. The strikes came from different angles—one high, one low, one straight through the centerline.
Qin Morian didn’t retreat.
He pivoted.
A violet formation disk flickered into existence, absorbing the first strike with a shriek of metal. His elbow drove back, intercepting the second slash before it fully formed. The third cut grazed across his sleeve—
—and bit flesh.
A thin line opened across his forearm.
Blood.
Again.
Qin Morian’s eyes sharpened.
An Ning pressed.
He stepped through the recoil, shadow exploding outward from his boots. His blade thrust forward—straight, precise, aimed at Qin Morian’s throat.
Violet bent.
Qin Morian’s body folded sideways through space itself, the sword tip missing by a breath as he reappeared above An Ning.
Palm strike descending.
An Ning rolled forward midair, twisting his spine unnaturally as the palm grazed past his back, ripping cloth and skin in its wake. He landed on one foot—
—and slashed upward.
The blade screamed.
A crescent of darkness tore skyward, forcing Qin Morian back.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Each retreat left fractures in the air itself.
Below, disciples stared in disbelief.
He’s pushing him back.
Qin Morian’s brow twitched.
Just once.
Then—
He smiled.
"Oh."
Violet detonated outward from his body in a violent pulse.
Not a wave.
An eruption.
Shadow was blown apart like smoke in a storm.
An Ning crossed his blade instinctively—
Too slow.
Qin Morian’s fist drove forward.
CRUNCH.
The punch landed square in An Ning’s ribs.
The sound was wet.
Final.
Bone shattered audibly as the impact folded his torso inward. Blood sprayed from his mouth in a violent burst.
His body was launched backward like a cannon shot.
He crashed through the first collapsed hall—
Didn’t stop.
Stone pillars exploded as he tore through a second structure entirely, debris raining down behind him in a cascading roar.
He hit the ground outside the ruins, skidding across stone until friction burned his robes and tore skin from his back.
He rolled.
Stopped.
Tried to breathe.
Nothing came.
His vision blurred, edges darkening as sound distorted into a dull, distant hum.
Still—
His fingers twitched.
He forced himself onto one elbow.
Blood poured from his mouth, dripping onto shattered stone below.
"No..." he rasped.
Shadow flickered weakly around his blade.
Above him—
Qin Morian descended.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Robes drifting.
Violet aura coiling lazily around his arms once more.
He landed a few steps away.
Looked down.
An Ning’s sword trembled in his hand as he tried to rise again.
Qin Morian raised his hand.
Violet light gathered in his palm.
Dense.
Heavy.
The air bent toward it.
Suddenly—
SHING—
Steel tore through the air.
Not from the front.
From above.
Qin Morian’s pupils shifted an instant before impact. He turned—but not fully.
The blade grazed across his shoulder.
Cloth parted.
Skin opened.
A thin red line traced along his collarbone, blood welling and sliding downward in a slow, deliberate path.
He looked up.
Mid-air—
Lin Shu.
Her body shook violently, every muscle straining just to remain upright. Blood soaked through her sleeve, dripped from her fingertips, fell in dark drops toward the shattered terrace below.
The flying sword curved through the air like a returning comet.
She caught it.
Not cleanly.
Her fingers almost missed.
Steel slammed into her palm hard enough to reopen torn skin—but she locked her grip.
Her eyes—
Burned.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Only refusal.
She twisted her body mid-air and brought the blade down in a single, desperate arc.
Blue lightning cracked outward.
The slash wasn’t wide.
Wasn’t elegant.
It was raw.
Compressed.
Focused.
The blade carved across Qin Morian’s chest, cutting through robe and flesh with a sharp, ringing cry.
A shallow wound opened.
Blood followed.
For the first time since he had stepped onto the battlefield—
Qin Morian’s smile vanished completely.
His eyes hardened.
He struck.
No warning.
His palm shot forward, violet energy detonating outward like a coiled serpent released.
Lin Shu couldn’t guard in time—
CLANG!
Two figures collided with him mid-air.
Shadow.
Wind.
Elder An Ning’s blade met Qin Morian’s palm in a burst of black sparks. Elder Feng Yu’s sword cut across from the opposite side, silver light screaming as it intersected the violet pressure.
The three forces crashed together.
BOOM—
Shockwaves ripped outward in concentric rings, flattening nearby rubble and blowing ash in every direction.
An Ning snarled through blood.
"Not—again!"
Feng Yu gritted his teeth.
"Move, Lin Shu!"
Qin Morian’s aura surged violently.
His arms blurred.
He struck twice—three times—each movement too fast for the eye to follow.
An Ning blocked the first.
Feng Yu intercepted the second.
The third slipped through.
CRACK—
Feng Yu’s shoulder twisted unnaturally as he was blown sideways, crashing through broken pillars.
An Ning twisted in mid-air to counter—
A violet elbow slammed into his ribs.
Already fractured bones gave way.
He coughed blood mid-flight as he was hurled backward again.
Lin Shu fell.
Not gracefully.
Her strength vanished mid-motion.
Her knees buckled as gravity reclaimed her.
Before she hit the stone—
Pink light surged.
Elder Liya burst forward and caught her around the waist, boots skidding violently across the terrace as she absorbed the impact.
They slid together, carving deep grooves into cracked stone before finally stopping.
Liya lowered her gently.
Carefully.
As if she were made of glass.
"Stay with me!" Liya’s voice cracked—not in panic, but urgency.
Lin Shu’s breathing rattled.
Blood ran freely from her lips.
Her hand tightened weakly around the sword hilt.
"...Still here," she whispered hoarsely.
Her knees refused to hold her weight when she tried to rise.
Liya steadied her, one arm supporting her back.
Behind them—
Two bodies crashed down.
An Ning hit first, landing on one knee before collapsing fully to his hands. Blood splattered across the ground beneath him.
Feng Yu landed seconds later, rolling once before slamming shoulder-first into broken stone.
Both tried to stand.
Both coughed blood.
Still—
They pushed up.
Slowly.
Breathing ragged.
One by one—
The elders gathered.
Elder Wan staggered forward from the shattered hall entrance, face swollen, jaw darkened with dried blood. His steps were uneven—but he stood.
Elder Wu limped to An Ning’s side, one hand pressed against his cracked abdomen, the other clenched tight.
Elder Jian Fan followed, golden aura flickering faintly around trembling fists.
Elder Hua arrived next, emerald light dim but present, one sleeve soaked crimson.
Elder Yaochen approached quietly, talismans burned out at his waist, eyes heavy but sharp.
They formed a broken line.
Not perfect.
Not steady.
But standing.
Behind them—
Disciples dragged themselves upright.
Armor dented.
Helmets cracked.
Weapons chipped and stained.
Lee Bie leaned on his spear.
Zong Bu wiped blood from his eyes.
Xiao Lian’s sword trembled—but she did not lower it.
Wang Tian stood with ribs wrapped in torn cloth, grin gone but eyes blazing.
Luo Chen’s blade dripped steadily, his breathing controlled despite the blood soaking his sleeve.
Not a single one stepped back.
Across from them—
Qin Morian stood untouched by exhaustion.
Blood streaked his chest and shoulder—but his posture remained relaxed.
His lips curved slowly upward.
Behind him—
The creatures gathered.
Thousands.
Their bodies twitched and shifted, claws scraping against stone in uneven rhythm. Some laughed in low, gurgling tones. Others snapped their teeth together impatiently.
They spread outward.
Encircling.
Closing.
The sect.
Surrounded.
Ash drifted down between the two sides.
Smoke curled around broken pillars.
The wind carried the scent of blood and burning stone.
No one moved.
No one fled.
Lin Shu pushed against the ground.
Her fingers slipped first.
Blood made the stone slick.
She tried again.
Her arm trembled violently as she forced herself upright.
A sharp, wet crack echoed from her left side.
Her shoulder hung wrong.
Not dislocated.
Detached.
The joint sagged unnaturally, robes soaked dark where bone had torn beneath flesh. Blood ran from her collar, down her ribs, dripping steadily from her fingertips to the shattered terrace below.
Her knees buckled.
The world tilted.
Elder Liya caught her before she fell.
One arm around her waist.
The other steadying her broken shoulder as carefully as possible.
"Enough," Liya whispered under her breath.
Lin Shu shook her head.
Even that small motion sent fresh blood spilling from her lips.
Her cracked sword trembled in her remaining grip.
The blade was chipped.
Spiderweb fractures crawled along its surface.
It barely held together.
She lifted it anyway.
Her breathing was shallow.
Every inhale scraped.
Her voice came out thin.
"Sana..."
It almost vanished in the smoke.
She swallowed.
Blood slid down her chin.
"...Sanatan Flame Sect..."
The sword rose higher.
Her arm shook so violently it seemed it might snap.
She forced it steady.
"...will battle..."
The wind picked up.
Ash swirled between them and the enemy.
Her eyes—clouded with pain, blurred with exhaustion—did not look away.
"...till the end."
Behind Lin Shu—
Pink light trembled.
Not flaring.
Not blazing.
Just... refusing to die.
Elder Liya’s aura flickered around her like the last petals of a burning lotus, edges frayed, glow uneven. Blood slid from her temple, traced the line of her jaw, fell soundlessly onto cracked stone.
Beside her—
Silver shimmered faintly.
Elder Wan’s aura no longer roared. It pulsed—dim, unstable—like a dying star struggling against collapse.
His fingers twitched as if still forming seals out of habit, even when no formation answered.
Brown glowed low around Elder Jian Fan’s light seeping between trembling knuckles.
Elder Wu stood with one hand braced against his side, the faintest bronze sheen wrapping his frame, thin as breath.
Shadow clung to Elder An Ning.
Barely visible.
It crawled across his shoulders in weak, broken wisps, flickering whenever he inhaled too sharply. Blood dripped from his chin in steady intervals, tapping against stone with quiet, rhythmic finality.
Emerald light quivered around Elder Hua’s feet. The ground beneath her responded weakly—thin vines pushing up an inch before collapsing into dust.
Behind them—
Steel lifted.
Slowly.
Lee Bie forced his spear upright though his arm shook violently.
Xiao Lian wiped her palm against her torn robe and tightened her grip again.
Wang Tian rolled his shoulder once, ignoring the crack that answered him.
Luo Chen stepped forward half a pace, blade steady despite the blood running down to his wrist.
More followed.
Bruised.
Burned.
Breathing hard.
Weapons rose anyway.
No one stepped back.
Not one.
Across from them—
Qin Morian tilted his head.
Just slightly.
As if examining an insect that refused to stop moving.
Violet aura rolled around him in lazy coils, calm, contained, patient.
Behind him—
The creatures advanced.
Not charging.
Walking.
Claws scraped stone in uneven rhythm. Wings folded and unfolded with soft, leathery snaps. Some dragged broken limbs as they moved. Others tilted their heads, grinning too wide, teeth slick with blood.
They tightened the circle.
Step.
Scrape.
Step.
The mountain behind the sect burned.
Collapsed halls crackled as beams gave way and fell in showers of sparks.
Smoke rolled upward in thick, choking waves, painting the sky in gray and red. Embers drifted between both sides like dying stars.
Above—
Clouds gathered.
Heavy.
Low.
The last light of day bled through in streaks of crimson, staining the battlefield as if the heavens themselves had been cut open.
Ash settled on armor.
On hair.
On blood.
Lin Shu swayed.
Elder Liya’s hand tightened at her side, steadying her without words.
One broken line of bodies stood before the horde.
Shoulders touching.
Aura flickering.
Bloodied feet planted into shattered stone.
Behind them—
Everything they had left.
Before them—
Everything that wanted it gone.
The creatures stopped advancing.
Just outside striking distance.
Waiting.
Qin Morian’s smile widened slowly.
Wind moved through the ruins.
Carrying smoke.
Carrying heat.
Carrying the scent of iron.
No one spoke.
No one lowered their weapon.
The sky darkened another shade.
And the silence—
Pressed.
Like the moment before a blade falls.
To Be Continued.....
