The Order is eternal.
It has never changed.
It will never change.
But I will destroy it.
Every last one of them.
Yulong’s hands were trembling.
The pain was unbearable.
The chains in his mind. The voices. The memories.
His village burning.
His wife screaming.
His son—his son—
Yulong clutched his head.
Get out. Get out. Get out.
Aelric, Veyne, and Kaela stood in front of him. They were saying something.
Yulong barely heard them.
The whispers in his skull were louder.
“Run, Yulong. Find help.”
He ran for days. Weeks.
No one helped.
The Order watched.
They laughed.
His son begged him, “Father, please… help us.”
Yulong failed.
And then they took him.
They made him kill.
His hands—his hands were not his own.
He remembered the first time they moved against his will.
The blade sank into a child’s throat.
The child looked like his son.
Yulong screamed.
He screamed until his throat was raw.
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But the Order just smiled.
“You’re our perfect hound now, Yulong.”
“Yulong.”
A voice.
Not the whispers.
Not the Order.
Aelric.
Yulong looked up.
His vision was blurry.
“You’re not in control, are you?” Aelric’s voice was calm.
Calm.
How could he be calm?
Yulong’s body twitched.
“I—” Yulong tried to speak.
The chains tightened.
He saw himself slaughtering a village.
He remembered how their faces twisted in horror.
His hands moved again.
A dagger.
A child.
His hands—
NO.
Yulong fought it.
But the Order was always watching.
They were laughing.
Belmar’s voice echoed in his head.
“You really thought we’d let you die? Oh no, Yulong. You live for our amusement.”
Yulong’s eyes widened.
His rage exploded.
The ground cracked beneath him.
A dark aura erupted from his body.
Burning. Suffocating.
Aelric’s eyes sharpened.
Yulong’s veins turned black.
His nails elongated.
The Order felt it.
Fear.
A soldier took a step back.
And then—
Yulong moved.
Faster than any of them could react.
His hand pierced through the first soldier’s chest.
The man screamed.
It was only the beginning.
A second soldier tried to flee.
Yulong appeared behind him.
His hand ripped through the man’s spine.
The soldier collapsed, twitching, choking on his own blood.
More Order warriors charged.
Yulong didn’t see them as people.
They were just shadows.
Just like the ones that took his family.
His rage fueled him.
His hatred guided him.
The next enemy swung a blade—Yulong caught it with his bare hand.
He crushed it like it was paper.
The soldier screamed.
Yulong sank his fist into his skull.
A sickening crack.
Blood splattered.
Another man begged for mercy.
Yulong’s voice was cold.
“Did you give my son mercy?”
He ripped the man apart.
Belmar watched, his smirk gone.
He had seen many things.
But this—
This was something else.
This wasn’t human.
The soldiers hesitated.
“Kill him!” someone screamed.
Yulong laughed.
It was not the laughter of a man.
It was something else.
Something broken.
He vanished.
And then—
A dozen soldiers collapsed at once.
Blood. Everywhere.
Belmar took a step back.
Fear crawled up his spine.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Aelric observed everything.
Yulong was unstoppable.
But Aelric wasn’t reckless.
His golden eyes analyzed the battlefield.
How long can he sustain this?
Is he fully in control?
Does this power have limits?
The Order was terrified.
Aelric took advantage of that.
Now.
He opened his subspace.
Warriors poured out.
“Formation Theta!” Aelric’s voice cut through the chaos.
His forces moved in sync.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Belmar’s face twisted in horror.
He thought he had trapped them.
But now he was the one cornered.
Yulong wasn’t slowing down.
He only got faster.
Stronger.
His voice was filled with pure hate.
“I will kill you all.”
Another soldier fell.
“I will wipe the Order from this world.”
Another scream.
Belmar took another step back.
For the first time in his life—
He was afraid.
Aelric’s voice rang out.
“We end this. Now.”
And the battle truly began.
Yulong’s breathing was heavy, his body drenched in the blood of those he had slain. But his rage had not lessened. It only burned hotter. His eyes locked onto Belmar.
“You. And you. And every single one of you,” his voice dripped with malice, his presence suffocating. “The Order. The Messenger. And then…” He bared his teeth, his dark aura flaring wildly, cracking the earth beneath him. “I will rip the gods from their thrones and tear them apart with my bare hands!”
The Order soldiers recoiled, their once unwavering faith in their strength shattered.
Belmar’s mouth felt dry.
He had planned a massacre.
Now, he was standing in one.
Chapter 22 ends