Reaper of the Martial World - Book 13: Chapter 13: Too Late

At this point, let alone Gilpin, the others were stunned by Dyon’s words as well.

Since things had reached this stage, they had, of course, been trembling in fear no different from Gilpin. But, upon hearing Dyon’s blatant disregard, they couldn’t help but cast gazes of pity toward the latter.

They could all be considered peers of Gilpin. Not to mention how often he mentioned the humiliation he suffered at Dyon’s hands while he was convincing their Hegemons to partake in this assault, even before things reached this point, they were all aware of the deep seeded hatred he held for Dyon. They had all lost count of the number of times Gilpin had brought it up.

Though they didn’t know what the full story was, they had made a guess that it had to be something horrible. And, since they didn’t have favorable impressions of the Nameless Immortal God anyway, they obviously didn’t hesitate to believe Gilpin.

But, what they could have never expected was that for this matter that had completely overtaken Gilpin’s life… to not even be remembered by the man he despised so much.

Their first instinct was to believe that Dyon was lying. Maybe he was just saying this to piss Gilpin off more. Even Gilpin had to believe this in order to hold onto his sanity for just a moment longer. But, upon seeing the genuine confusion in Dyon’s eyes, he really found it hard to hold on anymore.

The memory of an Immortal God, even a reincarnated one, was near infallible. Simply glancing at something casually would be enough for them to remember it for a lifetime. This was all to say that for Dyon to have no recollection of this matter at all… The only explanation was that he had done it so casually and so without care that he hadn’t even registered Gilpin’s existence.

For a moment, there was silence before the First White Mother’s mischievous laughter rang out. She had grabbed onto Dyon’s arm like a spoiled little girl and laughed at Gilpin without restraint.

She too had found it odd that Gilpin had such animosity with her big brother. Gilpin wasn’t even worthy of a second glance from her, let alone her big brother. What kind of animosity could their possibly be between the two? And even if there was such a thing, how could it be possible that this little elf hadn’t been buried six feet under yet?

“So things were like this. I didn’t think that Gilpin would be so shameless as to hold onto big brother’s legs like this. He must have thought that he could boost his own profile by lying about having a rivalry with you, big brother.”

Gilpin’s figure stood frozen. No, his body was in fact moving. It was vibrating in place so violently that the land beneath his feet began to crack and split. No matter how much of an ant he was in Dyon’s eyes, in the end, he was still a Peak Immortal God.

His fists were so tightly clenched that the tips of his fingers sank into his palms, causing drops of crimson to disappear into the cracks forming beneath his feet. His handsome face contorted and darkened, his once fair skin greying as though he had forgotten to breathe. But, maybe the most shocking part was that two streaks of blood fell down his cheeks as he looked toward Dyon with animosity that could overturn the skies.

When things reached this point, even the naïve First White Mother’s brows furrowed. Regardless of whether or not Dyon remembered, it was clear at this point that the humiliation Gilpin faced was real, or else his response wouldn’t be so exaggerated. If he was just enraged, it would still be fine. But this kind of reaction wasn’t so simple at all. In fact, if things were going down in this fashion, it could be a problem.

Legends of vengeful spirits spread far and wide, even to the point the mortal plane had quite a few myths about it. Ghosts, at least in the sense the mortal plane spoke of them, weren’t real. However, the idea of vendettas birthed from inhuman rage was. And, another difference was the fact that the person in question didn’t necessarily need to be dead…

However, legends always come from a kernel of truth. Even if the vengeful spirit didn’t need to be dead initially, they would most definitely die after their revenge had run its course. Everything in existence had a balance to it, it was impossible to gain power without giving something in return.

Those two streaks of blood running down Gilpin’s face and the greying of his skin wasn’t due to rage or forgetting to breathe. His soul had quite literally become corrupted with his will for revenge.

His vibrant hair darkened, lengthening even more than the First White Mother in her hybrid form and becoming a shade of black deeper than the night. The whites of his eyes vanished, leaving behind two black holes that swirled with unfathomable depths. And, his once fair skin became reminiscent of death, even emitting a faint grey light.

Dyon blinked. For a moment, he forgot his rage.

Even in his long life, this was the very first time he had witnessed the birth of a vengeful spirit. Of course, he had seen such an entity before – multiple, in fact. One of which was Jasmine, the Palace Master of the Water Mist Sect. However, unlike Gilpin, Jasmine’s life wasn’t in danger when she walked down the path of evil like this.

‘So it’s like this…?’

Maybe even in death, Gilpin would never understand that his rage and will to kill Dyon, even to the point of allowing his soul to become a vengeful spirit, would actually enlighten his enemy about something that had been bothering him for a long time already.

But, by now, Gilpin had already lost all of his reason. Whether he would even understand something like this after it was explained to him was still completely unknown.

“Are you scared, Little Deer?” Dyon smiled, casting a glance toward the First White Mother.

Though she shook her head vigorously, judging by how she tightened her grip on Dyon’s arm, it was obvious that she was lying. Vengeful spirits were the complete opposite of what Celestial Deer stood for. Not only was the First White Mother a little shaken, she felt a deep wave of disgust in her heart.

“This is not bad, though. Eleven more for my collection. You can form up a good core and act as a small advanced payment. I really wonder who the hell your Hegemons thought they were when they dared to attack my homeland like this.”

The curious glint and doting expression in Dyon’s eyes vanished. The rage he had tempered down for a moment bubbling back up.

SSSKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE

Gilpin raised his head into the air and roared, the two swords in his hands, once silver and gold, becoming black blades that curved like 3-meter-long scimitars. It was obvious that he couldn’t even understand Dyon’s words at all. The only thing he had left was instinct… and that was to kill Dyon.

Dyon watched indifferently as Gilpin charged. In his mind, the Gilpin of before was far more threatening even if this version of him was easily ten times more powerful. If faced with the Ancestors, even if this vengeful spirit had no chance of defeating him, he would at least be able to last a few exchanges before dying. However, in Dyon’s eyes, as long as the mind of his opponent wasn’t clear… they weren’t worth anything before him.

At that moment, Gilpin stepped onto Dyon’s island.

WENG! WENG! WENG!

A tempest of energy rose, crashing down toward Gilpin continuously.

The perfect earth, without a single blemish, suddenly moved. Bones shot up from beneath the surface, grabbing onto Gilpin’s ankles.

Though the first set broke, another pair surged up, then another, and then yet another.

Gilpin was swarmed by a small hill of black bones emitting a dense fog. Even though his roars caused them to rattle and even break occasionally, he was being steadily drowned with every step he took forward.

He fell to his hands and knees, his long blades scraping along the ground as he tried to crawl forward.

“[Devour].”

SSSSSSKKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Dyon’s indifferent voice sounded.

In that moment, red veins suddenly appeared across the bones, pulsing like a cross between a parasite and ancient runes. As the Immortal Gods looked on in horror, it was only the Fire Sprite and the Wind Sprite Patriarchs who had taken part in the assault on the First White Mother who reacted the most fiercely.

They could feel it. That hint of familiarity. Those red veins… It was their kin!

“Nameless Immortal God!”

They roared in fury, their rage overtaking their sense of reason and fear.

How could they not be enraged? This blood sprite was definitely not birthed via normal means. Just what kind of horrible experiments did it have to go through to reach this point?

However, they had no idea that it wasn’t Dyon at all who created this blood sprite. Wasn’t it the Dragon Hegemon? In fact, Dyon had sworn to take down the Dragon Hegemon for their actions.

Of course, he could explain this… But would his personality allow this? He was disdainful to explain anything. Plus, as far as he was concerned… They were all dead corpses walking the moment they attacked his little sister.

Gilpin’s roars were completely drowned out to the point they became whimpers. Then, nothing could be heard at all.

Dyon didn’t even have much of a reaction to this death. How could a mere Gilpin match up to a treasure he had been refining for years? Wasn’t he just seeking death? If it wasn’t for the fact Dyon disdained to tie it to the Heavens, this treasure would have knocked yet another from the list of 33.

That said… calling this a singular treasure was still a bit incorrect…

Dyon took a step forward.

Under the shocked gazes of the Immortal Gods, the island beneath his feet actually moved with him. One would think that this would destroy the earth, but somehow, the island had become intangible, moving through the ground as though it had no substance.

Just what kind of treasure was this?

The Immortal Gods looked on in fear. They had thought that this treasure would suffer from immobility, but they were proved wrong not even a moment after sighing a breath of relief.

They could all sense it. They were going to die today.

They had grown up hearing the horror stories wrought by the Nameless Immortal God… As experts who were talented in their own right, most of them never took these stories seriously, believing them to be exaggerations.

However, today, they would die at the hands of a mortal… a mortal who seemed to be taking a casual stroll through the park…

They finally understood then the terror of this man. But… it was too late.