Damn!

  That was the only thought Dejiu could think of as he dodged the child’s mangled fist. He almost fell back from the unexpected speed, but he allowed the fist to graze him before he let one hand go of his spade and delivered a Withering Palm. The child staggered but advanced like a rabid dog.

  The good thing was that he returned a good blow. The bad thing was his horrific discovery after one brief exchange with his disfigured past self — the center of his vision had a black spot.

  Does each blow I take make me progressively blind? Unfair! This is the blinding Bing Xin said?

  He rubbed his chest where his child self cut through robe and skin alike. Another realization dawned on him, the fist probably would’ve caved his chest in if not for his quick reaction. The child somehow possessed unbelievable strength. Honestly, he’d take blindness over sure death, so now he didn’t mind that black dot in his sight anymore.

  “Time to kill myself,” Dejiu muttered a curse.

  The child Dejiu charged again, fists moving like an experienced warrior. Each blow was followed by a gush of wind and a maniac’s smile. The real Dejiu tried to ascertain how to survive this unusually powerful kid, but this speed was beyond even the Wretched Corpse Lurker. The two pure-black eyes were filled with bloodthirst, rage, malice… and hunger.

  You’re me, you wretched little bastard! Help me kill the fucking guardian! Also, how does it feel better at combat than me?

  [Prana: 20/57]

  Damn!

  With his prana being rapidly depleted, he cursed at the eye. Whatever forced him down and dulled his senses forced him to viciously and wastefully cycle it. His right arm and shoulder felt weak and fragile from the backlash. He had relied too much on his self-destructive cultivation methods and prana, but at least it broke him free from the pressure.

  But if not for his pathetic state, this child version of him wouldn’t hold a candle! Well, maybe not, the wretched thing was unbelievably strong and agile. However, pondering over what’s done could come later because the child was forcing him away from the damned glowing eye.

  “Die!” He screamed at himself.

  Bringing his spade over his head, he brought it down to slam the child’s head in. He wanted to cave its skull in, but it withdrew, only to engage around the spade’s shaft. Shit!

  The child threw a palm at his abdomen, but Dejiu instinctively twisted himself to make the blow brush a little less than a finger deep. More of his blood spilled. More black dots erased his sight.

  Dejiu focused his prana into his left and delivered another Withering Palm. It landed. He smiled, it would prove its worth with multiple blows. Already, the child’s chest looked on the verge of decay. Inside the few small cracks, darkness revealed itself. “Brat.” He coughed, clutching his abdomen.

  [Prana: 13/57]

  Dejiu dashed with his bladed end in front. He thrusted and expected a parry from the small hands. As expected, the child pushed his shaft aside, but in a single smooth movement, Dejiu threw another Withering Palm at its chest.

  Guile!

  [Prana: 11/57]

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  More darkness revealed itself from the child’s chest. It’s working. The child’s smile was wiped away, replaced by a wicked and wrathful face. It looked especially harrowing with the exposed teeth, but who was Dejiu to be scared by himself as a child?

  Having firmly driven the point home to his child self that this was a fight to the death, Dejiu advanced again.

  His bladed end made the front. He switched his angle of attack and spun with his flailed attack to overcome the child’s expectation. Momentum guided him and he turned the shaft slightly to slam his spade end into the child’s small arms.

  [Prana: 8/57]

  Feeling the darkness inside the child somehow fracture, he knew it was a dreadful blow.

  Might!

  Dejiu didn’t let the child rest. Withering Palm was working, the child slowed slightly. So he rushed again despite his bleeding stomach. Although the black spots in his vision hindered him even more in the dimmed chamber, he wouldn’t lose his advantage.

  [Prana: 6/57]

  The child shook its head and charged to meet him. Fists came flying, and Dejiu brought a hand—

  Sacrifice!

  With a violent jerk, Dejiu twisted his body, a sharp pain slicing through his bracer and right arm as he drove his spade’s shaft down toward the child’s thrusting fist. But before he could strike, he saw his own hand hanging limply at the wrist.

  He had done it.

  His right hand was gone. Severed clean at the wrist, right through his High Initiate grade bracer. The stench of blood, mingled with the fading remnants of his prana, filled the air. Time itself seemed to stop, the stillness of the chamber devouring all sound. The child faltered, its wicked expression twisting with confusion and pain. Its face twitched in a grotesque imitation of life.

  Dejiu's breath came in shallow gasps, his vision blurring from blood loss and the relentless assault on his body. Yet, through the haze, he could see it—the exposed darkness, the crack in the child’s chest, now wider than before, leaked a tarry substance that seemed to shudder against the touch of the air.

  "Now... you die."

  The child’s eerie black eyes widened as the grip tightened. There was no fight left in it. The darkness inside its chest trembled, but it couldn't recoil. Dejiu's left hand was relentless, pressing inward, until with a sickening crack, the child’s neck snapped.

  The darkness that had once filled its eyes began to dissipate, like smoke in the wind. It slumped lifeless, a broken reflection of everything Dejiu had come to fear. But he didn’t stop, he didn’t hear a message. So he brought a final Withering Palm to its leaking chest.

  A booming crunch sounded.

  [You have slain an Impure Daimon: Choros’ Veil of Spite]

  He stood over the lifeless body of his past self, shaking from the effort, but with one, cold certainty in his mind. It’s over.

  [Withering Palm Technique has reached Ordinary attainment level]

  Hmph. Ordinary after all of that?

  Dejiu tightened his grip and stumbled his way to the stationary giant eye. He also dismissed his damaged bracers to save prana.

  [Prana: 2/57]

  Enough to kill. He’s going to stab the eye. He’ll be damned if blind dots in his vision, a missing hand, and the onset of weakness from the Wilted Stem technique were going to make him turn back.

  Stepping before the eye once more, Dejiu stared back at the glowing mass. His breath ragged, blood dripping from his severed wrist, he stared.

  The vessels of the eye’s iris looked burst, probably just as Dejiu’s meridians were. “Damned thing. I’m bleeding out.”

  He groaned, looking down at himself. “You… I didn’t think a guardian was gonna be like this. A summoner type of thing? Doesn’t matter. You can barely move, much less defend yourself.”

  “Die!” He stabbed the eye just as he had done before that child self was summoned.

  And an unimaginable amount of ichor spilled from his spade.