Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Blood-Red Coast

Bai Yuan didn’t argue. It was true.

Some gaps required a qualitative leap to bridge.

Mo, Wen Xing Ru, and those so-called prodigies were all top-tier within Ten Seals—sect talents who could crush any mutated beast on Blue Star one-on-one.

And Wang Jie was even more extreme.

Wang Jie asked, “Is it possible the Jia Yi Sect is using the mutated creatures to buy time?”

“Do they have reinforcements?”

Chu Yao thought, then shrugged. “Possible.”

“But unlikely.”

“To me, it looks more like they want Blue Star and Shu Mu Ye to perish together. If the Jia Yi Sect can’t build the bridge, they won’t let Shu Mu Ye build it either.”

“Can that work?” Wang Jie asked.

Chu Yao grinned. “If a creature is born that’s big enough—one that devours imprint power like a whale swallowing the sea—then when it explodes, Blue Star is finished.”

“An attack on the level of Star-Breaking Realm.”

“That’s all it takes.”

In the end, Blue Star was still doomed.

Bai Yuan left, because someone had to keep watch outside the base. Ten Seals creatures could appear at any moment.

Twenty days had passed since Wang Jie’s duel with Shu Mu Ye.

Then Wang Jie had another calisthenics session.

Fifteen days between sessions—long.

This time, Wang Jie’s strength rose to eighty-twofold.

Last time, the calisthenics healed his injuries, but his strength didn’t increase. Now it jumped, as if making up for what had been missed.

Could it really “make up” for it?

Was it related to the wrist guard—or to being badly injured?

This time, the warm current was stronger, rushing through his entire body.

Still not enough.

He needed more.

Bai Yuan reported the state of the three bases daily.

The bitter irony was that Nan Guo Base had become dependent on Shu Mu Ye’s protection.

Shu Mu Ye chose the Nan Guo Base coastline as his bridge site. His attention shifted to humanity and the sea creatures. He abandoned most land beasts.

On the second day after Wang Jie’s calisthenics, Shu Mu Ye began building the bridge.

He split the ocean with a single sword, carving a trench so deep the bottom was visible. A colossal mutated whale was severed and laid as the altar’s foundation.

He let the whale’s blood drift through the sea.

And beneath the altar, he placed more than ten Heavenstones.

The ocean answered.

From above, you would have seen endless creatures surging toward Shu Mu Ye’s position.

Even land creatures moved.

Because he had the most Heavenstones.

Heavenstone—what the trialists called slaughterstone—released imprint power. It was what allowed Blue Star’s creatures to evolve and cultivate.

In the ten years since the apocalypse began, every major base had obtained Heavenstones to study. They learned nothing. Worse, Heavenstones attracted beasts. In the end, they had been forced to throw them far away.

Shu Mu Ye used a cluster of Heavenstones to draw everything in.

He was driving the stakes.

In the small courtyard, Wang Jie stared at the footage on the wall—drone video of the Nan Guo Base coastline.

Creatures gathered in numbers beyond comprehension, bypassing Nan Guo Base entirely as they streamed toward Shu Mu Ye.

Sea. Land. Sky. Underground.

They came from every direction.

Shu Mu Ye was the same as he’d been in Shan Cheng.

Alone.

One Blade.

Pure strength.

He slaughtered and buried creatures without pause.

Nine days.

In nine days, the altar rose nine hundred meters high.

Taller than the altar in Shan Cheng.

Nine days of killing stained the sky above the coastline so crimson that even sunlight couldn’t break through.

The ocean turned red.

Corpses floated on the surface so densely that, at a glance, you couldn’t even see water.

Shu Mu Ye stepped across the blood-red sea, his blade still bright, still cold.

Nan Guo Base’s people watched the crimson sky in despair. They knew what awaited them.

The sky had been swallowed by blood.

Liu Ying’s face went paper-white. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

Even Doctor Si Yan had stopped working, staring blankly as if the question had finally formed: Can a human really do this?

The three major bases fell silent.

A silence like death.

The blood-stained sky spread across Hua Xia. Wind blew from south to north until that crimson hue soaked the entire world.

Countless mutated beasts trembled.

Shu Mu Ye climbed to the altar’s summit, looked down at the earth like a god judging insects, then turned his gaze north toward Nan Guo Base and raised his blade.

“The last hundred meters,” he said, voice calm. “Use people.”

The words came through the drone feed.

His deep, ice-cold gaze pierced the screen. Some of the timid broke on the spot, screaming and flailing like madmen.

More people shook so hard they couldn’t stand.

Those were the eyes of something that ate people.

He stared at Nan Guo Base. At all of Blue Star’s people. At the Jia Yi Sect.

The Jia Yi Sect disciples went pale. None of them had entered a sect without trials. None of them were strangers to killing.

And yet facing Shu Mu Ye in this moment, it felt as if even the waterfall behind them had turned red.

There was no answer.

The moment Shu Mu Ye appeared on Blue Star, the apocalypse of bridge-building became unsolvable.

No one could save Blue Star.

Wen Xing Ru and the others lowered their heads, drained, helpless.

Then, just as Shu Mu Ye was about to strike Nan Guo Base, an aircraft landed on the coastline.

Shu Mu Ye’s brows rose. Someone still dared to come?

Bai Yuan stepped out.

Alone.

Shu Mu Ye watched him with interest. Facing the choking blood stench, he still came. That courage deserved acknowledgment.

Bai Yuan walked to the altar’s base, lifted his head, and met Shu Mu Ye’s gaze.

“I want to know,” Bai Yuan said, “if our people willingly bury themselves into the altar… will it help you build the bridge?”

Shu Mu Ye paused.

The Jia Yi Sect paused.

“What are you saying?” Shu Mu Ye asked.

Bai Yuan didn’t flinch from the suffocating stench. “I’ll have people fill the last hundred meters themselves.”

“I’ll fill it for you.”

Shu Mu Ye smiled.

It was a smile so cold it felt emotionless. “Do you understand that once the altar is complete, Blue Star will be destroyed?”

Bai Yuan nodded. “I understand.”

“And you still volunteer?”

“Yes.” Bai Yuan’s voice didn’t waver. “If you agree, I’ll send them.”

Wen Si Yuan stepped forward, gaze heavy.

He didn’t care whether Blue Star lived or died, but he didn’t want Shu Mu Ye to succeed. If Blue Star’s people truly volunteered and filled the altar themselves, it might help Shu Mu Ye obtain Bridgeway Art.

Better for Blue Star to die and for no one to build the bridge than for Shu Mu Ye to succeed.

This Blue Star man was buying time. He still wanted to give Wang Jie one last chance.

Shu Mu Ye saw it too.

He nodded. “Native, I admire your courage.”

“You want to buy time? Fine.”

“But don’t push it. If you go too far, I’ll fill that base into the altar immediately.”

Bai Yuan exhaled. “Don’t worry. The three bases—Shang Jing City, Jin Ling, Nan Guo—will all send people. At a normal pace.”

Shu Mu Ye’s blade tip dipped toward his feet. “Then prove it.”

“You go first.”

Bai Yuan’s eyes widened.

At Nan Guo Base, Lian Qin and the others were stunned.

The footage was broadcast to Jin Ling and Shang Jing City. Millions watched Bai Yuan.

They didn’t understand why he would propose filling the altar voluntarily—but now he was being made the first sacrifice.

Bai Xiao’s face went white. Dad.

Wang Jie clenched his fist so hard his knuckles ached.

Sister Tang stood behind him. She had come to deliver instructions, but she was frozen, staring.

On the coastline, Shu Mu Ye watched with faint curiosity.

This man was Blue Star’s highest-ranking figure. Would he really die?

Bai Yuan turned back to the pilot and waved him away, as if saying goodbye to everything behind him.

Then he straightened his clothes and climbed the altar step by step.

Under the gaze of millions.

He walked through corpses and blood until he reached the summit and stood in front of Shu Mu Ye.

He pulled a mutated beast’s claw from underfoot and raised it to his own head.

Everyone stared.

At the last moment, Shu Mu Ye stopped him.

“I didn’t tell you to die now.”

Bai Yuan’s face tightened with confusion.

Shu Mu Ye lifted a finger.

A terrifying force slammed Bai Yuan down, crushing him flat against the altar. Under him were rotting corpses and slick blood-water, staining him red.

He lay there, face-down, while Shu Mu Ye turned his gaze to the drone.

“Send them,” Shu Mu Ye said, voice cold. “The last hundred meters.”

“All people.”

Back in Shang Jing City Base’s courtyard, the feed cut out.

Doctor Si Yan silently guided Liu Ying back inside.

Chu Yao stared at the blank screen, impressed. “People really volunteer to fill the altar?”

“I’ve never seen bridge-building in person. Voluntary versus forced—does it really change the result?”

“That’s worth studying.”

Wang Jie’s voice was steady. “Where is Zuo Tian?”

Sister Tang’s voice was dry. “I don’t know.”

“It was his idea,” Wang Jie said.

Sister Tang didn’t deny it. “It’s the only way to buy time.”

“Otherwise, Nan Guo Base’s hundreds of thousands will fill the last hundred meters right now.”

“Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after.”

“Blue Star will be gone.”

Wang Jie didn’t speak.

She was right. It was helpless. It was cruel.

It was also the most effective method left.

What else could buy time?

Even if Wang Jie stepped forward, Shu Mu Ye wouldn’t grant him another month.

And this ruthless efficiency—this willingness to burn people as fuel—felt too familiar.

Just like Zuo Tian. Just like the orphanage fire.

That man truly hadn’t died.

But there was no time to chase that thread now.

Sister Tang stepped in front of Wang Jie and looked him in the eye.

“Wang Jie,” she said, voice tight, “can we trust you?”

Wang Jie met her gaze.

“Days ago, Jin Ling and Shang Jing City arranged batches of people to go fill the altar.”

“They do it for their parents. For their children.”

“And they do it to buy you one last chance.”

She swallowed hard. “So answer me.”

“Can we trust you?”

Her eyes were bright with desperation. Her nails cut into her palm until blood dripped to the ground.

The scent of blood felt like it had drifted straight from the coastline to stand between them.

Wang Jie held her gaze and spoke slowly.

“No.”

Sister Tang jolted. Her face went pale.

Wang Jie continued, voice low but certain. “But I’ll die before you do.”

Sister Tang’s lips trembled. Then she smiled—bitter, unwilling, and heartbreakingly relieved.

“Good,” she whispered. “That’s enough.”

She turned and walked away.

Chu Yao sighed. “Touching.”

“Blue Star is doomed anyway. Better you didn’t give her hope.”

“When the time comes, I’ll take you and that girl and leave. We’ll find revenge later.”

Wang Jie didn’t answer.

He lifted the eye and kept watching qi.

That night, he saw it.