Chapter 184: 184 Soul-Devouring Surge

Chapter 184: 184. Soul-Devouring Surge

For years, the world believed Rulance had been entirely stripped of his martial might, yet today’s clash with Orson shattered that long-held consensus.

Not only could Rulance still raise his blade, but he could command the full, terrifying majesty of a Meteor-tier powerhouse.

Moreover, despite thirty years of relative dormancy, his combat intuition remained as razor-sharp as it had been in his prime, enough to cast a suffocating shadow over Orson.

Yet, it was impossible to ignore the heavy toll; the deep, festering wounds of his past still exacted a ruinous price upon his flesh.

Extended warfare was an impossibility for him, and any massive, concussive impact in battle risked shattering his fragile internal equilibrium, threatening a catastrophic collapse of his combat capacity.

The proof had come at the duel's sudden end, when Rulance’s suppressed injuries erupted, forcing a violent spray of blood from his lips. It was only his intimate understanding of Orson’s desperate, impatient nature that had allowed him to catch the man off guard.

Had Orson mastered his own anxiety at that critical juncture, choosing to prolong the engagement rather than rushing blindly into danger, the contest would not have concluded so abruptly.

Regardless, today’s spectacle left the onlookers with a chilling realization—the master of Castle Wushan was far from a defenseless old man.

Though Rulance would avoid conflict unless absolutely pressed, a cornered lion was a dangerous thing; while slaying another Meteor-tier might prove difficult, reaping the lives of Silver or Gold-tier knights would be as effortless as plucking fruit.

Long after the dust settled, the nobility lingered within the walls of Castle Wushan, desperate to glean any scrap of information regarding the true condition of the two combatants.

To their profound disappointment, the Marquis steadfastly refused all visitors, while the newly awakened Orson remained locked behind closed doors, denying entry even to Dianne and his inner circle.

Within the suffocating gloom of his private quarters, Orson gasped for air, bearing the wretched likeness of a grievously wounded lion.

The physique of a Meteor-tier knight was a marvel of resilience; a mere five-centimeter laceration to the abdomen, already treated with healing arts, should never have elicited such an agonizing reaction.

The state Orson found himself in was clearly born of something far more insidious than a superficial wound.

"Damn you, Rulance... what did you do to me!"

Closing his eyes, he turned his senses inward to inspect the ruin of his own body.

There, coiled within the flesh of his abdominal wound, throbbed a dense, malevolent mass of black energy, radiating outward like a dark, consuming fire.

Worse still, this abyssal blight had already snared his limbs and penetrated his very bones; though less concentrated than at the epicenter of the wound, it refused to dissipate, carried through his entire system by the residual currents of Rulance’s lightning.

Orson summoned his battle qi, attempting to nudge the foreign intrusion.

The moment his energy grazed the black essence, a piercing, soul-wrenching agony flared at the point of contact. The more he pushed, the wider the torment spread, until a thick sheen of cold sweat broke across his forehead, forcing him to abort the circulation of his power.

In the crucible of true combat, the flow of battle qi was infinitely more violent than this gentle probe, requiring the total mobilization of a knight's reserves. With this black plague woven into every fiber of his being, what would become of him?

Would it mean that in battle, every inch of his skin, every vital organ, and every single bone would be subjected to an eternity of endless torment?

"Damn it!"

"Damn it all!"

The terrifying truth of what this black energy represented began to dawn on Orson, and with that realization, a cold, suffocating dread gripped his heart, throwing him into a panic.

He had only just ascended to the exalted rank of Meteor-tier, a triumph that had kept him awake for nights with euphoric ambition. He had a grand legacy to build, and countless designs left to execute.

He refused to spend the remainder of his days confined to the depressing walls of a castle, a prisoner of his own flesh like Rulance.

"Suppress it... I must suppress it!"

"Yes, I possess the strength to crush it!"

Squeezing his eyes shut once more, Orson marshaled a torrential wave of battle qi, driving it down upon the black affliction.

He resolved to endure whatever fleeting agony it cost, intending to completely smother the dark energy by sheer force of will.

"Ahhh!!"

Outside the heavy doors, Dianne and the gathered nobles exchanged bewildered, frightened glances, entirely ignorant of what could cause a man of Orson’s stature to let loose such a wretched, blood-curdling scream.

Yet without his express permission, none dared breach the threshold, leaving them to wait in anxious, sweating silence.

Meanwhile, in the quiet seclusion of the rear courtyard of Castle Wushan, Rulance sat in his bedchamber.

"I knew this would be the outcome."

The Grand Mage, Miroslav, stood holding a large crystal vial, within which swirled a blood-red magical concoction of unknown origin.

"My ingredients are running dangerously low. Once I return, I shall have to source more on your behalf."

Rulance accepted the vial, draining the arcane medicine in a single, practiced draught.

Almost instantly, a soothing warmth bloomed in his mouth, slithered down his throat, and bloomed within his stomach before radiating out to his freezing extremities, bringing immense relief to his shivering frame.

"My thanks," Rulance murmured.

"Save your breath, old friend, I charge a heavy fee for this," Miroslav chuckled softly, stowing the empty vial back into his kit. "I won't linger here to trouble you. I depart at first light. Your condition has deteriorated significantly; if you can avoid raising your hand in the future, I strongly advise you to keep it lowered."

"Do not fret, I am well aware of my own limits."

Rulance offered a faint, weary smile. "I suspect that after today's display, those ambitious Meteor-tier fools will think twice before casting their eyes upon my domain."

"You truly are a sinister old devil. Orson will likely loathe you to his grave."

Miroslav closed his heavy toolkit, passing it to the waiting apprentice at his side.

"Rest assured, I have no intention of selling this particular vintage to him."

With those parting words, Miroslav bowed slightly and took his leave.

"Most," Rulance called out softly.

The old butler materialized instantly at the doorway. "My Lord, I await your command."

"Go and bring Ronin to me."

Most bowed deeply and departed to execute the order.

Before long, Ronin entered the quiet bedchamber.

Ever since Rulance had closed his doors to visitors that afternoon, and with Dianne and her retinue occupied with Orson's care, the burden of hosting the castle's guests had fallen to Ronin, who had spent the hours coordinating the evening banquet alongside Holwarth.

Summoned now to his grandfather's bedside, his heart fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and profound dread.

"Grandfather, how do you fare?"

Ronin approached the bedside, but as his eyes adjusted to Rulance's appearance, he froze in sheer disbelief.

Rulance’s hair had turned an ash-white, and the lines of his face seemed to have aged a decade in a matter of hours, his frame appearing more stooped and fragile than ever before.

Ronin could scarce find the words to articulate the heavy sorrow pressing on his chest; the terrible transformation Rulance had undergone in a mere half-day was utterly heartbreaking.

"How... how did it come to this?" his voice trembled.

Rulance gestured feebly toward a vacant chair near the bed, indicating for Ronin to sit.

"For all these years, I have been enduring the slow, agonizing erosion of a dark-attribute curse known as the 'Soul-Devouring Surge'."

The old lord began to unravel the grim secret of his affliction.

"It is a thoroughly wicked piece of magic. Once it invades the body, it hitches itself to your flesh and your battle qi like a parasite. The moment your energy touches it, the curse only grows hungrier, feeding upon your strength."

"The harder you fight to suppress or purge it with your battle qi, the more monstrous it becomes, inflicting a bone-rotting agony and a freezing chill that paralyzes the spirit. In the end, it strips away your very ability to wield battle qi as a true knight."

The Soul-Devouring Surge.

Ronin repeated the name in a hushed, breathless whisper, finally understanding the nature of the dark malice that had tortured Rulance for so long.

What kind of twisted magic is this?

Seeing the other man’s clearly aged and broken state, Luo Ning felt an overwhelming heaviness in his heart.

“Is there no way to cure it?” Luo Ning asked.

Rulans shook his head. “Over the years, Miloslav has sought countless remedies for me, but nearly all have been useless. Still, he did concoct a magical potion that eases my pain and dispels the icy chill clinging to my body.”

“Thanks to that potion, I’ve managed to slightly contain my injury—and, unexpectedly, even briefly harness these dark energies.”

Luo Ning immediately recalled the final moment of the afternoon’s battle. “Grandfather, you infused those dark energies into Ausen’s body during the fight?”

“Hahahaha, yes!”

Rulans forced a smile. “Every challenge demands a price! With Ausen’s temperament, he’s surely trying to suppress the Souldevouring Surge within him with his aura—but he doesn’t realize that reckless suppression will only trigger a far more violent backlash.”

This revelation stunned Luo Ning beyond measure.

Now that he thought about it, Rulans must have planned this from the moment he accepted the challenge.

“So what of Ausen’s future…?”

“Like mine!”

Rulans said. “From now on, he’ll dare not strike a blow—because every time he does, he’ll suffer even greater torment, just as I do.”

Luo Ning’s eyes widened.

He hadn’t imagined that Rulans’ strike today had outright crippled Ausen—the very man who had ascended to the Star Class!

(End of Chapter)