# 442
Chapter 442 – Devouring-Origin Sword Sheath
Crack—!
A spider-web of fissures raced across one wall before it collapsed entirely. Wei Xiuming, already bruised and unconscious, slid from the rubble and thudded to the floor, motionless.
Jialan stepped out of the settling dust in her long blue dress, took a deep breath, and patted the grime from her clothes.
An Qingyu walked over, having just finished off the remaining members of Team 010 with the berserk Cao Yuan. “All done?”
Jialan nodded. “Mm.”
An Qingyu’s gaze swept the ruined hall. The Zodiac was wiped out; only their small group and Baili Xin atop the central platform were left.
“What about him?” He pointed at the mad Cao Yuan, who was still chasing the last few giant pythons and hacking wildly, sounding helpless.
Jialan turned to look.
The berserk Cao Yuan chased a python to the edge of the floor. After one slash, he and the python toppled together from the 166th level.
“Heh-heh-heh…” The idiotic laughter faded into the distance.
Jialan’s mouth twitched. “Leave… him.”
An Qingyu silently withdrew his gaze. “Indeed, no point…”
The two sprinted toward the central platform.
…
On the shattered rooftop, Shen Qingzhu sat at the edge, white-fox mask on, watching the figures gathering around the distant platform, lost in thought.
“Mission complete. We should pull out,” Ninth Seat said, walking up to him.
Shen Qingzhu spoke slowly, “Wait a bit more.”
“Wait for what?” Ninth Seat asked, puzzled. “With the uproar the Baili family’s made, Night Watch will know soon—if we don’t leave now, we won’t get out.”
“You go first,” Shen Qingzhu murmured.
“What?” His second sentence had been too soft; Ninth Seat hadn’t caught it.
He looked around, hesitated, then sat down anyway.
“Why aren’t you leaving?” Shen Qingzhu asked, surprised.
“If a junior isn’t afraid of death, why should I be?” Ninth Seat clapped his shoulder. “You’re the one destined to become Second Seat and lead the Believers to glory. If I’m not around and something happens to you, what becomes of the Believers?”
Shen Qingzhu stared. “You really believe I can revive the Believers?”
“Believe or not, there’s no one else left,” Ninth Seat sighed. “The others are nearly dead; you’re the only promising rookie. Without you, do I rely on myself? I’m old—I can’t carry it anymore. The future belongs to you youngsters.”
“The Believers mean that much to you?”
“…Once upon a time, maybe.” Ninth Seat’s voice was vague. “Anyway, it’d be a shame if the Believers just faded away.”
Shen Qingzhu turned back, gaze fixed on the distant battle, silent.
…
In the hall.
Baili Xin stood on the platform, golden spear in one hand, wooden sword sheath in the other, eyes narrowing at Baili Pangpang and Lin Qiye before him, and at Jialan and An Qingyu rushing over.
Baili Jing was dead, the Zodiac annihilated, their relics seized—an apocalyptic loss for the family.
Yet sons could be reborn, relics reclaimed, users retrained. He felt fury, reluctance, but no despair.
He had built everything from nothing; thirty years of storms had taught him every setback.
As long as Baili Xin lived, nothing was finished.
“Fine…” He drew a long breath to steady himself. “I admit, Ye Fan’s eye for talent is vicious. Even a reserve team can force me this far. Given time, surpassing Mask, Phoenix, even Spirit Medium would be inevitable…
So, will you not reconsider my offer?
You’ve killed my son, seized the relics, vented your anger—enough?
My offer stands: stop now, and I’ll pretend none of this happened. I’ll devote the entire Baili family’s resources to make you the strongest team in all Great Xia…”
“Finished?”
Before he could finish, Lin Qiye calmly cut him off.
Baili Xin froze on the platform.
“As expected of the Baili Group’s chairman: even with your son dead, house ruined, people slaughtered, you still coolly negotiate. Objectively, not many possess such nerve.”
Lin Qiye spoke flatly, “But not everything can be settled like a business deal.
Today, the Baili family must be erased from Great Xia, and you must die here.
We’ll become the strongest Night Watch team on our own—with or without the Baili family.”
The moment his voice fell, blazing magic circles bloomed across the ceiling. Torrents of fire poured down and swallowed the figure on the platform in an instant.
Fierce flames roared, red light reflecting on Lin Qiye’s calm face.
“Qiye…” Baili Pangpang couldn’t help speaking.
“Mm?” Lin Qiye turned with a smile. “If you’re about to say something sentimental like ‘thank you,’ spare me.”
“No…” Baili Pangpang was helpless. “He’s holding Serial 066, the Devouring-Origin Sword Sheath. It can store any energy attack and release it again as a blade—so…”
Lin Qiye: …
Within the surging inferno, every tongue of fire suddenly reversed, swirling into a gigantic vortex that poured madly into the plain-looking wooden sheath.
Embers drifted around Baili Xin as he sneered at them, raising the sheath lightly.
“Seems this deal is truly off…” he said slowly. “In that case, die here.”
He slashed the sheath at empty air.
Whoosh—!!
A three-hundred-meter flame blade ripped through the air, horizontal and scything.
The compressed sword of fire sliced every column on the floor, melted the rebar, and extended beyond the tower, carving a scarlet arc across the sky.
As the 166th floor began to collapse, black sand surged out, reconnecting every support, steadying the teetering level.