Endless Debt Chapter 1098 - 118: Bloody Deathmatch (Part 2)

Lebius paused, his mind clear, making the same calculated decision as Bologue. The silent Blade-Biting Wolves, reawakened, swarmed out, charging towards the First Seat and Red Dog.

These alchemical puppets posed no threat to the formidable duo. The Power of the Extreme Realm effortlessly tore through their metallic bodies, while the First Seat's white mist corroded them into utter ruin. When a single Blade-Biting Wolf managed to breach the First Seat's defensive line, the latter swiftly swung a scythe. A spectral white light descended instantaneously, shattering the wolf into useless fragments.

Lebius employed every possible tactic to delay them, yet his efforts proved utterly futile.

Suddenly, Lebius halted, standing resolute in his position.

"Go!"

Bologue urged Lebius, commanding him to escape with the Iron Coffin into the Cultivation Room; victory would be theirs if they could achieve that, for the distance was negligible to Higher Tier Condensers like themselves.

"We cannot escape," Lebius declared, shaking his head. "That is the First Seat, a dignified Seeker of Glory."

"Are you surrendering?" Bologue inquired.

"No, I intend to win. But to overcome a Seeker of Glory, a sacrifice is required," Lebius whispered. "This is my final opportunity, Bologue."

Bologue paused, understanding Lebius's intent. "Are you attempting to rationalize your reckless action with such preposterous claims?"

What final chance? It was all preposterous; Lebius had never concerned himself with the fate of his soul.

Realizing he could not deceive Bologue, Lebius's tone shifted, tinged with a hint of amusement. "I must confess, I find myself ensnared in this secret war. Since its commencement, I have been plagued by nightmares. Should I flee now, I fear I shall never find a path to liberation."

Bologue gazed intently at Lebius. Faced with such an unyielding individual, persuasion was an exercise in futility.

Geoffrey, standing nearby, was rendered deaf by the close combat. Though unable to discern their words, he sensed a palpable unease emanating from the peculiar atmosphere surrounding them.

"What are you doing?!" Geoffrey bellowed in desperation.

Neither Bologue nor Lebius paid any heed to Geoffrey's outcry.

Meanwhile, Bologue...

"We surrender!"

Bologue abruptly raised his hands, proclaiming his surrender towards the First Seat and Red Dog.

Geoffrey stared, utterly dumbfounded by Bologue's unexpected action. He had never envisioned Bologue making such a move.

With his hands held high, Bologue slowly retreated towards the Iron Coffin positioned behind him. Observing his actions, the First Seat and Red Dog also moderated their advance. Red Dog's chilling laughter echoed, never missing an opportunity for mockery.

The Iron Coffin creaked open, revealing the radiant Canyin light within.

Bologue's gaze fell upon the body submerged in the container, its form reminiscent of a celestial deity. Its eyes were tightly shut, as if lost in a profound slumber.

An ancient reverence welled in Bologue's heart. He then struck the container, causing the light to dim. Bologue proceeded to lift the waterlogged form of Xilin from the container.

Despite having been deceased for years, Xilin's body still bore the intricate patterns of the Alchemy Matrix—these were corporeal manifestations of the soul's imprint upon the flesh.

Only through the union of body, mind, and spirit could Secret Energy be truly awakened.

Holding Xilin's corpse aloft, Bologue turned towards the two figures in the distance. Xilin was now directly before their eager eyes, and even the formidable pair betrayed a flicker of frenzy in their expressions.

"Bologue!"

Geoffrey cried out uncontrollably. Muffled and confused, the lingering agony from the Heart-devouring Song relentlessly assaulted him, his heart on the verge of shattering.

"It's alright."

Bologue mouthed the words to Geoffrey, seemingly without intention, then positioned himself by Lebius's side.

"Captain, your trust in me is truly remarkable," Bologue whispered. "I had expected you to eliminate me the moment I smashed the Iron Coffin."

"Rule one," Lebius replied nonchalantly. "I presume you have already deduced the necessary course of action."

"Indeed. After all, I am an Undead. Whether I escape or not makes little difference to my existence," Bologue declared, his performance masterful as he spoke while moving forward. "Therefore, I must utilize myself as a tool for the greatest possible advantage."

Abruptly, Bologue stopped. Without any prior indication, a jet-black arm erupted from Bologue's chest, seizing Xilin's corpse. Severing itself from Bologue entirely, it channeled all its power and sprinted towards the outskirts of the Great Rift.

Aimou, the uncanny Aimou, was a shadow intrinsically linked with Bologue. She always materialized unexpectedly.

As she passed Geoffrey, Aimou gave him a forceful tug, dragging him along in her flight.

Some actions require no extensive explanation. Geoffrey cast a final glance back at Lebius, then at Xilin resting on Aimou's shoulder. He took over carrying Xilin from Aimou, and fled the battlefield with even greater haste.

As the two escapees retreated, Red Dog emitted a deep, guttural growl. They had been tricked by Bologue. Just as they prepared to give chase, stone walls surged from the earth, forming an impenetrable barrier between them and the fleeing figures.

Bologue and Lebius braced themselves, resolute in their determination to intercept them at this very spot.

In a fit of fury, Red Dog initiated the assault, unleashing the 'Power of the Extreme Realm' and brandishing the 'Immovable Sword' as if it were a world-cleaving blade. Lebius, in turn, met this onslaught with his 'Bone-breaking Knife,' a 'Wolf Spirit' coalescing around him, its amplified might colliding head-on with the 'Extreme Realm' technique.

Resonant waves emanated from the impact, and spectral apparitions materialized beside Lebius. A somber, chilling aura enveloped him, sending shivers down his spine. Lebius felt as though he glimpsed his own demise, a Grim Reaper poised to cleave his throat with a colossal scythe.