Haoran licked his lips, the motion mirrored by the grotesque, weeping mouths that lined the left side of his body.

The copper tang of primordial blood mixed with the heavy, metallic stench of Korgar’s volatile, hyper-compressed Saint energy, creating a sensory overload that would have driven an ordinary cultivator to madness.

But Haoran’s expression remained terrifyingly placid, a mask of aristocratic indifference framed by shifting, non-Euclidean shadows.

At that moment, Korgar roared, a sound that tore through the remaining atmosphere like a physical blade, and swept his hands downward.

The massive, multi-armed silhouette of this mad Saint moved with the velocity of an impending planetary collision, intending to crush Haoran in one fell swoop, to grind the golden youth and the creeping eldritch corruption beneath his palms until nothing remained but a smear of dark grease on the molten bedrock.

However, the laws of the mortal plane held no sway over the fragments of an Outer God.

Before the massive indigo hands could make contact, countless oily tentacles shot out from the other side of Haoran’s body, slicing through the air with a sickening, whistling hiss.

They didn’t just block the strike; they latched themselves into Korgar’s hands, burrowing beneath the giant’s skin like sentient vines of absolute void.

"What!?" Korgar roared in shock, his voice breaking into a fractured, multi-tonal shriek as he saw his multiple hands getting covered in the black, oily substance.

And before he could even speak, countless mouths tore open across the surface of the pitch-black liquid, their needle-sharp teeth instantly eating his arms away, chewing through the dense, compressed soul-essence as if it were soft wax.

"A-Argh! Get off me!"

Haoran chuckled, the sound layered with the deep, rumbling vibrations of the ancient entity resting within the steel of Azathoth. "You can’t escape. When Azathoth is hungry, not even I can stop it from devouring its target."

He took a step forward, pointing his sword at him, "You offered your tribe to an abyss you didn’t understand, barbarian. Now, the true abyss is collecting the debt."

Korgar roared in sheer panic, a primal terror finally eclipsing his berserker madness.

He tried to flick the corruption away, thrashing his gargantuan arms through the air, even violently slamming his hands to the ground to dislodge the parasitic entity.

But it was entirely useless.

The stone exploded into dust beneath his strikes, yet the black oil only spread faster, fed by the very kinetic energy and blood-qi he expended.

The mouths multiplied, their wet, rhythmic chewing sounds echoing across the quieted battlefield like a localized plague.

Slowly, inevitably, Korgar felt the fundamental strength of his forcefully ascended realm draining away as the stolen souls that gave him his Saint power were being systematically unraveled and digested.

A few moments later, he collapsed on his knees, the shockwave of his massive weight shaking the crater one last time as the corruption already ate him all the way to his shoulders, turning his massive torso into a shifting mound of black slime and blinking eyes.

Slowly, under the horrified gazes of the onlookers, the giant chief began to shrink as the hyper-compressed energy was being sucked dry, causing his ten-thousand-meter form to deflate like a punctured bladder.

The space around him snapped back into its proper dimensions, the spatial rifts closing up as the artificial gravity vanished.

And a few moments gone by, he was no more than ten feet tall, a pathetic, trembling figure resting in the center of a smoking impact zone.

The black, oily substance completely covered him, sealing his limbs and torso in an unbreakable straightjacket of eldritch flesh, leaving only his head in the open.

His skin was no longer incandescent purple; it was a dull, ash-gray, his breathing coming in shallow, desperate rattles.

At that moment, Haoran stood in front of him, the black liquid covering half his body slowly receding back into the blade of the Black Imperial Sword, though a few stray eyes still blinked along his sleeve before vanishing.

In that instant, the oppressive, planet-melting heat died down, replaced by the cool, ash-laden wind of the Eastern Region.

Seeing the supreme threat neutralized, the others also walked towards him, surrounding the fallen chief in a wide, cautious perimeter.

Even the vanguard of the Spirit Hall army and the surviving sect soldiers advanced, their weapons lowered but their guards still tightly raised.

Huo Yue stood beside him, her long crimson hair swaying in the wind as she reached out, grabbing his hand.

Her palm was warm, a stark, comforting contrast to the freezing void energy that had just saturated Haoran’s meridians.

She didn’t look at the giant though, her eyes were fixed entirely on Haoran, checking for any internal damage or corruption from the sword.

"It seems it’s over," Jin Ci said, his diamond skin completely flaking away to reveal his pale, sweat-slicked human form as he slumped slightly, resting his heavy hands on his knees. "Man, this was a long fight. I feel like my bones were ground into flour and baked back together."

Hun Ming nodded, storing away his halberd, though his fingers were still twitching from the residual lightning energy coursing through his nerves. "Indeed. I can’t believe we actually beat Nirvana Rebirth realm experts though. If you told me yesterday that a group of Nascent Soul disciples would slaughter a general from the wilderness with the cultivation of Nirvana Rebirth, I would have called you a lunatic."

Bei Nu snorted, adjusting his cracked glasses as he carefully stored his empty alchemical satchels. "Don’t flatter yourselves too much. All of you had your powers temporarily increased by our high-grade pills, which bypassed your meridian limits. You also possessed high-quality artifacts from the capital’s central treasuries, backed by superior battle techniques and complete cultivation techniques passed down by ancestors. These giants have nothing but raw meat and an incomplete legacy. If you still lost under those conditions, I’d look down on you for the rest of my days."

"Heh, at least I won’t get looked down on as much as them," Shen Xun’er laughed she pointed a thumb toward the back.

Her gesture directed their attention toward the high city walls, where the golden-armored figure of Xu Xiaojun and the rest of the noble scions were finally climbing down the defensive ladders and running towards the battlefield in a ragged and hurried line.

The danger had passed, the sky had cleared, and the monster was bound.

Naturally, they likely wanted to get on with the contributions, eager to dip their boots in the blood of a dead Saint so they could write glowing reports to the Imperial Court about their "strategic rearguard support."

"It seems your brother is not only incompetent, but also incredibly shameless," Su Xishi said, taking out her purple parasol as she looked at the running crown prince with disgust on her face. "To cower while common soldiers bleed, and then sprint to the front to claim the glory... it is truly a royal performance."

Xu Jingshan sighed, his grip tightening on his golden bo-staff, his expression was a mixture of embarrassment and deep, familial weariness. "Well—"

But he didn’t get to finish his words.

Before another syllable could leave his mouth, the ambient spiritual energy in the area suddenly froze.

Then, a sharp, crystalline chime echoed from the highest stratum of the atmosphere, and a massive, glowing screen of translucent white light suddenly appeared above Korgar’s head.

The screen hummed with a profound, celestial authority, its borders etched with ancient karmic runes that glowed with the neutrality of the absolute heavens.

Everyone immediately went back into a fighting stance.

Swords were drawn, spears were leveled, and the Spirit Hall soldiers formed a wall of shields around the Pope and the Saintess.

Far back on the plain, Xu Xiaojun and the nobles froze seeing the sudden commotion.

The sight of the massive light screen made them skid to a halt, their previous greed instantly evaporating as they decided to wait there, not advancing any further until they were certain a second apocalypse wasn’t dropping from the clouds.

"What’s happening!?"

"Is it a secondary array? A trap left by the traitor Tang Shan!?"

Lu Xinglan’s eyes widened as she stared at the shifting patterns within the light. "That’s... could that be the Heavenly Karmic Viewing Screen!?"

"What’s that?" Shen Ji asked, his brow furrowing as he wiped a streak of grime from his forehead.

"In some very rare occurrences, when a major historical figure or the leader of a race faces execution, the heavens will show the life of the dying individual and let the world judge him for his crimes," Lu Xinglan explained, her voice dropping into a tone of historical reverence. "It is a legend recorded only in the most ancient tablets of the Spirit Hall. I wasn’t expecting to see it here."

Haoran blinked, his mind whirring as he thought, ’Since when was that a thing?’

He considered himself a very well-read person, having memorized most of the contents of the Hanging Garden’s Library and the archives of the Shen Clan, but how come he had never even read of such a heavenly phenomenon?

A screen that shows a villain’s tragic past right before they die?

It sounded less like a natural law of the universe and more like a contrived mechanism of the world’s destiny to force sympathy for a monster.

"We should see this thing," one of the Great Sect disciples muttered, lowering his sword slightly. "It’s probably very interesting. I want to see how evil this barbarian truly is. Maybe we can learn their hidden paths."

"I agree," another added, nodding in agreement. "He’s going to die anyway, completely paralyzed by Young Master Shen’s technique. Might as well have some entertainment before we pack up and head to the banquet."

Haoran frowned deeply at them, his golden eyes cold as he thought, ’No, why are you saying all these things?’

This Korgar is a Saint-level entity who just slaughtered millions of his own kind for power.

He’s going to die anyway, so why bother watching his life?

What if this delay is exactly what this mad giant needs to recover some of his strength and fight back once again?

Or worse, what if he suddenly regains his strength through some breakthrough of understanding and fights back?

Have you all lost your minds?

"I think we should just kill him," said Huo Yue, her voice a sharp, chilling line that cut through the growing curiosity of the crowd.

Her four Heavenly Flames flickered dangerous sparks around her boots.

She didn’t care about the giant’s past, his tragedies, or his reasons; she only knew that an enemy left alive was a dagger aimed at Haoran’s back.

"I agree," Xu Jingshan nodded, his righteous aura flaring as he stepped forward, raising his staff. "A man who sacrifices his own bloodline has no right to a trial or an audience. His existence is an abomination to the Dao."

"Exactly." Shen Tao nodded.

Haoran stared at them, a sudden realization striking his mind. ’It seems only these three protagonists can think logically... wait, could it be!?’

A sudden chill ran down his spine, not from fear, but from the recognition of a familiar, insidious pattern.

Without hesitation, he instantly turned his gaze fully towards the bound Korgar and activated his Karmic Light Observation technique, pushing his vision past the physical flesh and into the realm of pure destiny.

His jaw nearly tightened.

Korgar’s luck, which had been a broken, rotting thin thread moments ago, had actually increased exponentially while they were talking!

The sickly shadows were being washed away by a sudden influx of golden, celestial essence flowing from the screen above.

It was now seven lights, a vibrant, blinding halo of sovereign destiny that marked him not as a dying villain, but as a bonafide protagonist!

’As expected!’ Haoran thought, his smirk turning entirely cold as he raised Azathoth, the black steel humming with a sudden, lethal intent.

He had no intention of letting the script finish its rehearsal.