Venerate Ego

Ziyang pushed himself upright, one hand gripping his side. His body throbbed with every movement, pain crowding his limbs like fire under the skin. But he didn't groan or complain. He just stood. Slow, shaking and silent.

"Alright, Lingxi," he muttered, jaw tight. "Time to make yourself useful."

He scanned the wreckage around him, his ears ringing too loud to catch subtle sounds, but his eyes locked in with new purpose.

"Sound," he said through clenched teeth. "That's his weapon. Direct. Loud. But it needs a target he can see. He's not built for precision."

He limped forward, step by step, ribs aching with every breath. "There must be a hall nearby. It's an academy. There's gotta be some kind of an indoor auditorium filled with pillars. Huge and empty for prayers or other activities."

[Mingdao Hall. Used for morning prayers and student assemblies. 237 meters left.]

He took a breath and began walking, dragging his foot, then pressing harder into the pace. His limp turned to a jog. His jog became a run. Each stride sent jolts up his spine, but he didn't stop.

He spotted Yansheng ahead, massive, still leaving trails of ruin in his wake. Ziyang grabbed a jagged stone from the debris and hurled it. It struck Yansheng on the back of the head with a dull knock.

"Hey!" Ziyang shouted. "You were supposed to finish the job, idiot."

Yansheng turned with a scowl. The earth seemed to lean beneath his steps as he gave chase. Ziyang didn't wait. He sprinted toward Mingdao Hall, picking up shards of rubble as he went. The thuds of Yansheng's pursuit followed behind, uneven but relentless.

The hall loomed ahead, tall, wide, and silent. Ziyang crashed through its doors first. The air inside was cool, hollow and echoing. Marble pillars stretched row by row, casting narrow shadows in the moonlight filtering through the windows.

Yansheng entered a beat later. He paused, scanning the room.

Ziyang was already behind one of the pillars.

He grabbed a piece of rubble and flung it across the hall. It struck a far column with a sharp crack. Yansheng turned toward the sound and screamed, shattering the pillar instantly.

Another rock flew. Another scream. Another section obliterated.

Ziyang moved constantly, ducking behind stone, weaving between shadows, never staying in one place for more than a few seconds. Every throw bought him another chance. Another scream wasted on air.

Between bursts of debris, he noticed something. A faint glow pulsing at the center of Yansheng's chest. It hadn't been visible before. Not when he had paced himself. But now, screaming relentlessly, the light grew brighter with each blast.

Ziyang narrowed his eyes.

Yansheng's patience snapped. He bellowed with full force, voice tearing through the hall. Pillars collapsed in bursts of stone and dust. The walls groaned. The ceiling trembled.

Ziyang ducked low and sprinted for the exit. Behind him, the roof cracked open. Chunks of marble rained down. A falling beam grazed his shoulder as he dove through the doors.

He hit the ground outside, rolled, and came to a stop face-up in the courtyard, coughing blood onto the stone. His arms trembled. His back ached. But it was over. The hall was down.

Or so he thought.

A roar cracked through the air behind him. Yansheng erupted from the rubble, glowing chest exposed, voice raised to the heavens.

Ziyang's jaw clenched. He lay there, broken, blood pooling from his ear. His ankle refused to move.

He had nothing left.

Zhenyu rushed across the stone corridors, boots slamming against the ground. As he turned a corner, he saw a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction.

"Master Juechen? What are you doing here? I thought you'd left already."

Yan Juechen's robes swayed gently as he walked. "I did. Finished my errands and came back, only to hear the alarm. I was heading west."

Zhenyu nodded. "Then let's go together."

"Alright."

Yansheng approached slowly, smoke curling around his boots with every heavy step. Dust in the air. Each footfall left a deep imprint in the cracked stone.

He reached Ziyang, who lay broken and motionless. Without hesitation, Yansheng pressed a foot down on Ziyang's ribs. The weight crushed into him. A strangled scream escaped Ziyang's throat.

"You've got wit," Yansheng said, his voice rough and coarse now. "But not enough strength. I'll let you live, only because it's not my job to kill you. Not that you'll be breathing much longer. Stay down. Don't get in my way again."

He stepped off and turned away.

Ziyang didn't respond. He didn't even hear him. His ears had been almost completely damaged now. Silence loomed inside his skull. The pain was an ocean, every nerve lit with fire. And yet… his lips curled faintly.

He rolled to his side. Bones ground together inside his chest. The pain threatened to shut him down entirely. Still, he dragged his palms across the rubble, pushed himself upright. One foot planted shakily. He rose. Somehow.

The air was still. The only sound was the echoing thud of Yansheng's retreating steps.

Ziyang's legs trembled. Breath staggered. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth, but his eyes never left Yansheng's back. The sky spun above him, and the ground tilted, yet the stubborn flame of his ego kept him upright.

He spat blood. "Hey-" his voice cracked, barely a whisper. He then coughed and wiped his mouth. "Hey, you."

Yansheng paused and turned his head.

Ziyang looked at him with unshaken resolve. "I didn't hear a bell."

Yansheng frowned in anger.

Ziyang then began to run sideways, screaming in pain.

The soundwaves chased him immediately. A raw wave tore through the air, but Ziyang ducked left, behind a crumbling wall, and kept moving.

He then started looking for spirit gongs, and the place was riddled with them.

He dashed between buildings, kicking one gong here, hurling another there, setting them into rough positions. His hands bled from gripping stone. His legs buckled with each step. A scream clipped his shoulder. Another nearly shattered his shin. But he didn't stop.

Yansheng followed, confused. His attacks flew, but Ziyang never stayed still. At first, he thought the boy was trying to deflect the blasts with the gongs. But that wasn't it.

Ziyang ran to the last gong, a large one mounted low. He turned it backwards and crouched behind it, using a wall at his back for balance.

Yansheng screamed.

Ziyang shifted the gong just enough. The soundwave hit and bounced. It flew sideways, toward another gong, and another, and then another.

The vibrations curved through the makeshift arc, rebounding like mirrors, until they came full circle and struck Yansheng from the side.

A high-pitched crack filled the air. Yansheng's head snapped sideways. His knees buckled. Blood sprayed from both ears.

Ziyang roared. He tossed the gong aside, grabbed a sharp shard of debris he'd hidden, and charged.

With one last step, he drove it straight into the glowing center of Yansheng's chest.

The core shattered.

Yansheng collapsed in a heap. The earth trembled beneath the weight.

The dust settled. Ziyang stood… barely. He staggered forward, step by step, until he reached the body. Then he placed one foot on Yansheng's fallen frame.

In the distance, Zhenyu and Juechen arrived, skidding to a halt. Their eyes swept over the shattered ruins, the broken gongs, and finally landed on the boy standing in blood and silence. Their faces shifted from disbelief to sheer astonishment.

Ziyang turned to them, face smeared with red, shoulders sagging.

He whispered, "Task completed."