Chapter 22: A Tragic Victory

Flames descended from the sky, crashing down like a blazing meteor!

Yao Bingling’s mind didn’t waste time calculating. He didn’t think about the fact that falling from such a height, even with any sort of cushion, meant certain death.
He didn’t think about how, with only one arm remaining, he couldn’t unleash his full strength.
He didn’t think about how his injuries might throw off his balance mid-attack.

None of those considerations existed in his mind. His eyes were locked solely on the massive Honkai beast below, which was roaring and trying desperately to evade.

Yes—it wanted to flee.

After surviving that infernal explosion and a near-death experience, both its body and mind had been pushed to the edge, like an overtightened string that would snap at the slightest touch.
And now, just when it thought it was over, that same accursed enemy reappeared like a lingering ghost. The final thread of its sanity snapped.

It was terrified—utterly terrified. All it wanted was to escape this nightmare.

Yao Bingling’s brow twitched. He had already seen through its intent.

Fifty meters above the ground, the muscles in his right arm erupted, squeezing out every last drop of strength. His right eye shone with a faint golden gleam, locking onto the beast below like a targeting reticle.

He made no sound—just raised his burning greatsword and hurled it like a javelin.

The air exploded—the fiery projectile tearing through it left behind a trail of blazing heat, a streak of red-gold light that marked its deadly acceleration.

Blood burst from Yao Bingling’s arm in midair, spraying outward like two overlapping crimson fans. Dozens of droplets hung frozen for a heartbeat before scattering—his blood, forced out by the overwhelming strain, rupturing his veins and skin.

That fan-shaped spray of blood marked the cost of his throw.

This was the difference between him and Jinwu. Jinwu’s attacks came with wild fury and roaring madness, as though he’d scream himself hoarse to amplify his power.
But Yao Bingling… he fought in silence. His past battles, against not only Honkai beasts but enemy soldiers and assassins, had trained him to kill efficiently and quietly—to simplify every movement, to strike without warning.

His roar in the sky earlier—that had been Jinwu’s voice, not his.

Now, descending from the heavens, Yao Bingling was a straight line of fire—a meteor’s fall, a divine arrow from myth, a blazing spear of vengeance.

The fireline seemed impossible to aim. The beast below was already rolling and scrambling away, its two hind legs carrying it several meters from the original target in less than a second.
It should have missed.

But it didn’t.

At ten meters above the ground, the fireline suddenly curved, bending into an impossible “L.” It pierced straight into the creature’s back—right where its armor had already been shattered and charred by the previous explosion. The sword drove through its body like a stake through roasted flesh, tearing through bone and viscera.

It didn’t even scream.
When the fire passed through its mouth, the heat carbonized its vocal cords and seared its insides black. Its cracked blue-violet core shattered with a single impact.

It fell like a tired knight—silent, almost peaceful—collapsing into the dirt. Only the thundering impact of its body hitting the ground showed that it was truly dead.

Moments later, something else fell nearby with a heavy thud, raising a storm of dust and debris that buried half the beast’s corpse.

The world fell silent.

After what felt like an eternity, a hand emerged from the pit, slapping the dirt weakly before clawing upward.

Yao Bingling pulled himself out.

He wasn’t dead.
Even after the explosion, after being burned to the bone, losing an arm, and falling from nearly a hundred meters—he still lived.

Half his body was burned beyond recognition; his abdominal and spinal muscles couldn’t even support his weight. His legs were shattered, three vertebrae dislocated, and fragments of bone had pierced his lungs and kidneys.
His damaged kidneys couldn’t even produce enough adrenaline to keep him conscious.

Yet somehow, he kept crawling. One arm, one jaw, dragging himself across the dirt toward the Honkai beast’s body.

His consciousness was fading fast. He didn’t even know why he was moving—only that deep within, a familiar, furious voice was screaming:

[The core! Eat its core!]

“The… core?”

After dragging himself several meters, his hand struck something hard—part of the beast’s outer shell. But when he squeezed, the supposedly missile-proof armor crumbled like brittle bread crust.

Jinwu’s fire had burned it that hot.

He pressed on, plunging his hand into the creature’s body. The charred flesh inside felt soft, almost spongy—like tearing through freshly baked bread. The bones broke like crackers.
He didn’t know how far he went. It felt like crawling into an oven, the air thick with the stench of burnt meat and ash.

Then he saw them—amid the blackened remains, several faintly glowing blue-violet crystals.

Instinct and the echoing voice in his head urged him forward. He grabbed the nearest one—no larger than his thumb—and swallowed it whole.

Instantly, icy cold exploded in his gut, freezing his insides solid. He shivered violently—but his mind cleared.
Then came the heat, searing and unbearable, like his stomach was on fire. Yet it passed quickly, replaced by an almost blissful warmth that spread through his entire body.

His burned left side began to itch—an unbearable, maddening itch. He clawed at his charred skin, peeling it away in ragged chunks, revealing soft pink flesh beneath.

He was regenerating.

Realizing this, Yao Bingling stopped scratching. He lay still, sweating and trembling, forcing himself to endure. His clenched fists drew blood as he dug his nails into his palms.

He wanted to faint—but he couldn’t. He still had more cores to consume.

He wasn’t the kind of fool who’d shout, “I’ll never use the enemy’s power!”
He was a soldier. Trained to survive, to adapt, to win—no matter the means.

That was why he’d endured Jinwu’s possession for so long. Because he wanted to consume Jinwu’s strength just as much as Jinwu wanted to consume his body.

When the itching finally subsided, Yao Bingling reached forward and grabbed another core—this one as big as his fist. He was about to bite down when he paused.

He lifted the core away from his mouth, then tapped his own head with it—producing a hollow, clink.

The smooth, bare feel made him freeze.

He was bald. His hair was gone.

“…f*ck.”

With a roar of frustration, he bit down hard. The crystal shattered like glass between his teeth, crunching and grinding like boots crushing shards on the floor.

For several minutes, the sound of chewing echoed from within the carcass.

Then—silence.

At last, Yao Bingling climbed out of the beast’s belly, covered head to toe in ash and blood. His missing arm was reforming—golden particles gathering, fusing into flesh and bone.

He stood tall on fully healed legs, breathing heavily, scanning the surroundings.
No one in sight.

He looked up. The heat here would block satellite detection, but that wouldn’t last long.

He turned back, dragging from the beast’s body a twenty-kilogram chunk of violet flesh—the only unburned piece he could find.

Then his spine cracked audibly as his vertebrae realigned themselves. The pain was excruciating, but his healing had begun. His organs regenerated within seconds, pushing out bone fragments as he coughed hard and took his first steady breath.

And then came hunger—so fierce it felt endless.

The regeneration had consumed everything. His stomach felt hollow, like he could devour an entire cow.

His eyes fell on the hunk of meat. Without hesitation or thought of cooking, he tore into it—biting, ripping, devouring like a beast.

Warm blood smeared across his mouth, staining his face purple and black. His teeth—now sharp and predatory—ripped through the half-cooked flesh with ease.

Crack.

A faint snapping sound—like a twig underfoot.

Yao Bingling froze.

This was the heart of the battlefield. No large creatures should be left alive here. Something was coming.

Before he could turn, the killing intent struck him—heavy, sharp, crushing like a mountain.

He whipped his head around—just in time to see a red-haired Valkyrie in crimson armor leaping through the air, greatsword raised high.

“Die!”

Through the shrieking wind and burning air, Himeko Murata roared as she brought her blade down toward his face.