Re-birth: The Beginning after the End-Chapter 220: BURN THIS REALM

Let me out, the darkness roared inside Mo Xing, a primal voice that echoed through the chambers of his consciousness with the force of a collapsing star.

No, Mo Xing responded, his mental barriers straining against the pressure. He didn't know what would happen if he released it fully—couldn't predict the consequences or contain the aftermath. His Little Tempest stood so close, and if the darkness consumed her... he would rather die than let that happen.

You both will die if you don't let me out, the darkness insisted, its voice like obsidian shards scraping against his soul. These entities are stronger, deadlier—nothing you possess in your current state can touch them.

And what can you do differently? Mo Xing challenged, skepticism lingering despite his desperation. If conventional cultivation can't touch these things, what power do you possess that could?

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You've forgotten what we truly are, the darkness whispered, its voice now overlapping with his own until they became indistinguishable.

Mo Xing felt the darkness coiled under his skin—a presence that had existed within him since his birth. His mind turned to the dreams and memories that had been surfacing with increasing frequency and clarity. Another world, another life. Ancient battlefields where shadow entities devoured the life force of everything they touched. And there was that woman who appeared more often in his visions as his bond with his Little Tempest deepened. The parallels seemed impossible, yet undeniable.

Just a taste, his original self coaxed, the voice softening to something almost seductive. Just enough to save her. To save all of them. Isn't she worth the risk?

Before him, in the physical world, another crack appeared in his barrier. The largest entity had begun to push through, its many-faced form distorting as it breached the protective dome. Li Hua stood directly in its path, her twin spirit daggers raised in defiant preparation for a battle she couldn't possibly win.

Yes, this beautiful woman in front of him was worth it. Was worth everything. The yearning that consumed him whenever she was near—a hunger far deeper than mere physical desire—had become the gravity around which his existence orbited. He had never felt this desperate need to protect, to possess, to cherish. She was worth any risk, any sacrifice, any descent into the darkness of his true nature.

I won't hurt her, the darkness caressed him with surprising gentleness, I would burn this realm to cinders before allowing harm to befall her.

Mo Xing's lips curved into a dangerous smile, both in his mind and on his physical face. "Then we have that in common," he whispered, the words barely audible as the barriers between his conscious control and primal power began to dissolve.

The darkness awakened with the cold kiss of steel against bare flesh—a momentary caress before plunging into glacial agony. It surged through his meridians like liquid nitrogen, crystallizing his essence into something otherworldly as it clawed upward through sternum and throat.

The transformation tore through physical barriers, rending muscle and bone before remaking them with terrible purpose. Mo Xing's body arched in silent agony as his consciousness fragmented, shards of his present self falling away like broken glass to reveal what had always lurked beneath—an ancient power that predated the very concept of cultivation.

Through the maelstrom of his transformation, he registered warm hands gripping his shoulders—an anchor to this realm as everything else dissolved. Li Hua's voice reached him as if from across a vast chasm, her desperate cries of his name fragmenting and reassembling in his altered perception. Her eyes, wide with terror not for herself but for him, were the last things he clearly saw before his vision shifted to encompass spectrums beyond mortal sight.

Reality itself seemed to bend around Mo Xing as he completed his transformation. The air rippled with distortions, and the sun light within the clearing dimmed as if retreating from what he had become. His form had changed—not physically, but in some fundamental way.

Darkness poured from him in waves of tangible shadow, and when he could finally stand steady, Mo Xing turned to survey the clearing. The disciples and Elder Fu lay sprawled across the ground, their eyes closed, bodies still. Only his Little Tempest remained conscious, kneeling at his feet with her storm-gray eyes narrowed in assessment.

"They're not dead," she said quietly, as if reading his immediate concern. "Just unconscious. The spiritual pressure was too much for their cultivation levels."

Mo Xing nodded once, the movement unnaturally fluid. He raised his gaze to the lake's edge where the entities that had been attacking them moments before now shivered and retreated, their impossible forms compressed with what could only be described as fear. They recognized him now—knew what he truly was and what he could do to their very existence.

He raised his hand with a lazy, almost elegant gesture—the movement of a predator confident in its supremacy. Darkness flowed from his fingertips like liquid night, not merely shadow but the absence of existence itself. The darkness moved with deliberate purpose, surrounding the retreating entities and penetrating their impossible forms. Their screeches transcended sound, becoming psychic waves of agony that rippled across the lake's corrupted surface.

The entities thrashed and contorted as the darkness methodically consumed them—not destroying but absorbing, converting their essence into something Mo Xing's transformed being could assimilate. With each entity devoured, the spiritual energy within him intensified and evolved.

His meridians, already transformed beyond conventional understanding, expanded further to accommodate this influx of power. His physical form began to glow with an inner light that paradoxically made the shadows around him deeper, more substantial.

Where moments before he had been depleted to the point of collapse, now raw power coursed through him, rewriting reality in subtle ways wherever his gaze fell. The corrupted shore nearest him began to heal, black soil transmuting back to fertile earth under the influence of his renewed essence.

Plants emerged from the purified ground, growing at impossible speeds—not the native vegetation of this realm, but strange, otherworldly flora with crystalline structures and geometries.