Chapter 264

  Unforgiven (V)

  Long Tao's gaze was hollow--there was neither anger nor pity contained therein, as though wind had swept all his emotions away.

  The beast struggled, roaring and growling and whimpering, all while the wounds began to stack. For all his prowess, this was actually the best he could do at the moment--even if fallen and at the cusp of dying, it was originally a quasi-Divine Chimera. Though all its Innate Divinity had long since been sapped, its mind likely recalled the sensation nonetheless.

  How many of the maligned monstrosities like this had he killed during the hunt? Millions, at the very least, he wagered. There once was a time when seeing them made him angry, though he could seldom remember those days at this point.

  He dodged yet another swipe of the paw, ducking underneath it and swinging the blade upward and over in a singular motion, opening up yet another shallow wound.

  What angered him now was just how weak he was--not a year ago, he had the ability to end the concept of time itself with the swing of his sword, and he was now struggling to just barely create a flesh wound on some malformed creature that was one breath away from dying regardless.

  Here and there, he'd glance over at the odd Master of his, though the man never showed much of a reaction; Long Tao suspected that the man knew, at least broadly, that he'd reincarnated. However, he'd still been underestimating him, for one reason or another.

  This was supposed to be a show of force, but...

  He couldn't help but sigh, turning his attention back to the creature.

  There were many, many, throughout history who played with the concept of chimeras--creating a perfect thing from two flawed ones. Or three. Or fifty, in some cases.

  There had never been a success, not really; the most successful Chimera, by his estimates, had to have been that quarter bull, quarter dragonfly, quarter serpent, and quarter human thing that managed to endure six strikes of his before capitulating.

  But 'success' wasn't really the right word; that thing was in as much pain as this here one was. They weren't alive; they were merely... existing, and doing so against their wills.

  None could ever speak, yet Long Tao knew they could understand. They could think. They could feel.

  Which always made Long Tao wonder--why did they all struggle? Why did they all fight until their last breath? Perhaps the instinct to survive was so overwhelming that even the bone-boring pain wasn't enough to dissuade one from trying to live?

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He dodged yet another tail swipe, rolling sideways in the air and cutting with the sword, managing to draw a bit of blood. It yelped yet again, retreating for a moment and staring at him with those eyes--there were thoughts behind them, though how many and what kind, he couldn't tell.

  A bit of rage swelled up inside of him--not due to the creature's fate, but because it reminded him of the Emperor of Death, the very man who licked his boots for thousands of years, picking up his scraps, begging him to come along, only to betray him on the very day he was crowned an Emperor.

  Betrayal wouldn't have been the worst thing--Long Tao knew precisely four people in his life that would never betray him, and he wasn't one of them--but what became the fire were his acts after the fact.

  Any time they'd catch somebody loyal to Long Tao, they wouldn't merely kill them--they'd capture them and try and turn them into a chimera, not unlike the one in front of him.

  None of those chimeras were marginally strong but were simply a mockery and a warning: stand by the Divine Blade, and you'll find your flesh desecrated in the worst ways imaginable.

  How many of his friends had he slain because they'd been turned into beasts? Maybe a dozen, at most, because once the word spread... he no longer had any friends.

  This wasn't the act of the Emperor of Death--he was far too young to have caused this. It was likely one of the ancestors of the School of Death. The entire forest was likely once a massive structure spanning miles on end, with hundreds of pavilions, each trying to perfect the creation of chimera.

  The greatest mockery of them all was how they imprinted the bodies into preserved solution, morphing their expressions into ones of serenity and calm, as though they wanted to be there.

  As for how the forest came about? He couldn't really tell--perhaps it was a Saint or a Saintess who unearthed the atrocities and made the forest in a desperate bid to hide all of it, though it was entirely possible that the forest itself was alive, as it did have a few indicators of it.

  He dodged yet another bite, though he noticed that the pup's speed had slowed down.

  The battle was winding down, as was his own estimate of himself--they were far too weak to go after the Sages and would be for quite some time. It was one thing to face off after the nameless, faceless sources of Life Qi that they'd reared specifically to die, and entirely another to face someone who was actually an important member of the Sect.

  If that one that visited the city was any indicator, he'd have to at least become a Demigod in order to stand a chance.

  He pressed forward, taking the chance given to him to quickly end the fight--he'd put on a bit of a show for the Master and had expended far more Qi than he should have and was even running a bit low. Increasing his speed, he kept darting between the beast's blind spots, cutting and stabbing as frequently as he could.

  One wound after another piled on, and before long, the beast was whimpering and lying on the ground, a massive pool of blood beneath it. Its eyes still revealed no trace of fear or indignation--just... anger.

  Long Tao pulled back and stared at the beast, occasionally glancing toward the white mist, which would cause the beast to immediately try and get up. Whatever was contained therein was something far more worth to it than its life.

  It had nothing to do with him--whether it was a treasure or perhaps its child, as it was a Progenitor, the beast would have no say in what was to happen. Its fate was to finally die, after so many thousands of years of suffering and enduring.

  He walked up and drew his sword, charging it fully with Qi, while the beast suddenly stood up, its head slightly lowered, and did something that fundamentally changed how Long Tao saw the world.

  It spoke.

  "P-p-protect... pr-protect..."