The one-day period passed in the blink of an eye.
At the summit of Mount Fuji, Ian's divine sense spread out like an invisible tide, instantly covering every inch of the Japanese archipelago. He clearly perceived that Zhang Chulan was currently on the northernmost coastline of Japan, standing atop a giant rock looking quite bored. Wang Ye's figure appeared in a cave in southern Japan, leisurely brewing a pot of coarse tea as if waiting for something.
The rest of the Magnetic Field Sect members had also reached the fringes of the archipelago according to their prior instructions, staying far away from the central region. They had all successfully evacuated.
Ian nodded slightly and stood up. He stood at the edge of the volcanic crater, his robes snapping in the gale, but his posture was as steady as an ancient monolith. With his back to the sky, he gently raised his hand in a beckoning motion.
The Human Emperor Banner, suspended high amidst the cloud layers and interwoven with endless blood-light and brilliant gold, suddenly gave a violent shudder. The hundreds of millions of soul shadows upon the banner's surface seemed to receive a grand decree.
Across every city ruin, every scorched village, and every mountain and river of the Japanese archipelago, the hundreds of millions of heroic souls simultaneously halted their hunt for the remaining invaders the moment they received the summons. They looked up to the sky and let out series of complex roars filled with catharsis and lingering attachment.
Immediately, these soul bodies—diverse in form and carrying resentment that pierced the heavens—transformed into massive streams of golden and blood-red light. Each stream, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound, flew toward Mount Fuji from all corners of Japan. They carried the even more vast and pure power of resentment and fear newly absorbed over the last day and night, flying back into the Human Emperor Banner above the mountain.
After absorbing this purified energy, the golden-red light on the Human Emperor Banner exploded, nearly condensing into a solid substance. The blood-colored patterns on the flag grew deeper, as if real blood were flowing through them. The golden runes shone brighter, radiating a heart-palpitating sense of divinity and majesty.
Below Mount Fuji and in the surrounding areas that had been repeatedly plowed by the soul tide and turned into wasteland, some Japanese civilians and remnants of the defeated army who had luckily survived huddled behind broken walls, trembling.
When they discovered with horror that those terrifying soul shadows, which had previously blotted out the sun and hunted lives everywhere, were actually receding toward the sky like a tide, their first reaction was one of unbelievable shock. Following that, a surge of wild joy from surviving a disaster erupted from their twisted hearts.
"They're retreating! They're retreating!"
A Japanese soldier, his face covered in black soot and his uniform tattered, pointed at the sky and screamed in a hoarse voice.
An elderly man with disheveled hair and robes stained with unknown filth—a man who prided himself on being a veteran Onmyoji—crawled tremblingly from a pile of rubble. Forcing his body, which felt like it was falling apart, he used a withered finger to point shakily at Ian's blurred figure atop Mount Fuji. He used every ounce of his strength to hiss a proclamation to the surrounding survivors who were equally shaken:
"Everyone! Do you see!"
"Those demons from China... their sorcery has reached its limit!"
"Their 'Qi,' their evil power, must have been completely exhausted!"
"Therefore, they absolutely cannot support such a massive number of soul bodies to continue their haunting!"
The Onmyoji's words instantly awakened a so-called "hope" in the hearts of those survivors lingering on the edge of despair—a hope that had long been crushed to the limit by fear and resentment. However, this ignited "hope" twisted in the next instant into a deeper, more frantic hatred.
"Kill him!"
A Japanese officer who had lost an arm stared fixedly at the peak of Mount Fuji with his remaining eye, letting out a beast-like roar.
"Avenge all the fallen imperial warriors!"
"Avenge all the destroyed homes!"
"Great Japanese Empire, Banzai!"
Another man with a hideous scar on his face waved a broken samurai sword, howling hysterically.
"He must be exhausted! We still have a chance!"
"Kill all these Shina pigs!"
Countless surviving adults now wore hideous expressions, their eyes blood-red as if they wanted to devour someone. Even the children mixed in the crowd, who should have been innocent and bright, wore distortions and madness on their young faces that were entirely inconsistent with their age. They mimicked the adults, waving their small fists and using high-pitched, childish voices to scream the most vicious curses and slogans.
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
"Ten thousand years to the Emperor!"
The expressions on those twisted little faces were so terrifying it made one's skin crawl; they looked like nothing more than little beasts.
Of course, while their slogans rang out like mountains, their bodies were honest. After a brief, frantic venting, the instinct for survival overrode everything else. A large number of surviving Japanese people, including those militaristic fanatics shouting for revenge, began to flee frantically away from Mount Fuji. They pushed and trampled over each other, trying to escape this home that had turned into a scorched hell.
However, no matter where they fled or how they ran, the moment they subconsciously looked back toward Mount Fuji, they always felt Ian's cold, indifferent gaze. It was as if his eyes pierced through distant space and ignored all obstacles, staring fixedly at every single one of them. That gaze made them feel like needles were pricking their backs, chilling their spines and making their fleeing steps stumble.
The global live broadcast screen switched its camera the moment the soul tide retreated into the Human Emperor Banner. The image snapped from the grand scene of the souls' return to a tight focus on the figure standing alone between heaven and earth atop the summit of Mount Fuji—Ian.
Across the world, billions of gazes, regardless of location or race, converged here through the giant light screen. An indescribable premonition rose in the heart of every viewer. They realized that the "Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts" that had lasted an entire day was likely just a prelude. What was about to happen next might be an ultimate event far more terrifying and shocking than the sweeping soul tide.
Under the gaze of the masses, Ian calmly watched the insects below. He slowly raised his hand and lightly flicked his sleeve toward the Human Emperor Banner floating in the air.
The terrifying banner that emitted endless resentment and battle intent suddenly pulled its golden-red light inward. The body of the banner rapidly shrank, finally turning into an imperceptible streak of light that vanished into his palm.
After putting away the Human Emperor Banner, Ian slowly raised his right hand, his five fingers spreading slightly to cover the sun in the firmament that radiated infinite light and heat. Then, he made a grasping motion in the air, as if he were holding the sun in his hand.
At the very moment he made this gesture, the brilliant sun in the sky seemed to dim rapidly. The entire Japanese archipelago, and even regions across the globe watching via the light screen, felt the brightness of the world drop abruptly. The world fell into an unprecedented, heart-palpitating, and eerie gloom. It was as if dusk had arrived early.
In extreme contrast to the rapidly dimming sun in the sky, a sphere of light erupted from Ian's right palm. It was a light that defied description—billions of times more dazzling and searing than the sun at its peak. That light was pure and domineering to the extreme.
His fist, in this instant, became the sole light source in this darkened world. It was as if a brand-new "Sun" radiating an aura of destruction was rising within his grasp.
Xingyi · Great Sun Nuclear Explosion Punch!
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