Chapter 300

Chapter 300: The So-Called Rebirth Through Death

Still, he refused to concede. Zhang Yang’s unyielding defiance drew immediate scorn from both living spectators and skeletal figures in the arena.

The ghostly figure’s will dictated the Blood Skeleton’s actions.

The Blood Skeleton controlled the Yin-Yang Spring.

And this spring governed the life and death of all skeletons, an undeniable hierarchy.

Mocking laughter rippled through the crowd at Zhang Yang’s stubborn declaration.

Even Yue Guilong, speaking in spiritual transmission, urged, "Brother Zhang, circumstances overpower individual will. Temporary submission carries no shame."

The truth was undeniable, resistance served no purpose.

Deliberately tilting his spectral ear toward Zhang Yang, the ghostly figure taunted:

"Speak louder, mortal. These old bones didn’t catch your whisper."

His words carried both mockery and calculated humiliation, a sovereign relishing his absolute dominance over Ghost Island.

Cold smirks adorned the faces of those watching.

"Declare it!" roared the Blood Skeleton, his command echoed by his jeering followers. "Let the realm hear your surrender!"

Zhang Yang scanned the hostile crowd.

No allies stood with him, except perhaps one—Yaoruoxian. Perhaps, because her furrowed brow revealed an unusual hesitation, a stark contrast to her usually firm and decisive nature.

This warrior-woman, who had once contemplated slaughtering entire audiences over a striptease provocation, who mirrored neither Qiu Yinong’s pride nor conventional madness, now radiated pure perplexity.

Her black-and-white eyes, once reflecting crystalline certainty, now swam with unfamiliar doubt.

Yet Zhang Yang alone had always understood her psyche.

Through their Nine Battles Tribulation, through defeats he had orchestrated, her true self had crystallized before him.

To others, she was inscrutable.

To him, she was transparent—her binary worldview saw no shame in actions, only existential truth.

His calm smile deepened the storm in Yaoruoxian’s gaze.

Let the world think him mad, only their destined confrontation mattered.

"Why the silence?"

The Blood Skeleton’s voice barked like an eager hound.

"White Jade Skeleton! Name your choice for the Moonlight Saint Stone!"

All eyes shifted to the luminous figure clutching the Stone Skin relic.

Longing radiated from his ivory bones as he sighed:

"Forgive me… I choose survival."

The skeletal legion erupted in victorious howls, their mockery crescendoing.

"The White Jade Skeleton has spoken. Do you still claim you haven’t lost?"

"Fool! How dare you oppose our Blood Skeleton’s master? Victory was never yours!"

"Accept defeat. No skeleton welcomes death."

Their mockery rang through the air, a chorus of derision.

Yue Guilong stepped forward, intending to console Zhang Yang.

But Zhang Yang raised a hand, his voice steady. “This isn’t over.”

Disbelieving stares met his declaration.

The Moonlight Saint Stone’s owner had chosen survival through the yin-yang spring’s baptism, shedding his Stone Skin and offering the treasure to Yaoruoxian. What grounds remained for denial?

As the Blood Skeleton’s faction stirred, the ghostly figure silenced them with a mere gesture.

“Rare amusement after centuries of tedium. Let the jester speak his farce.”

“Indeed,” Blood Skeleton simpered, “he exists solely for our master’s entertainment.”

Arms clasped behind his back, the ghostly figure observed Zhang Yang like some curious oddity from a bygone era.

Zhang Yang’s gaze swept the skeletal assembly. “You’ve shown me death’s paradox—how destruction births renewal. Through this, my Slaughter Sacred Thunder’s essence grows clearer, revealing paths to transcendence.”

Lightning sparked at his fingertip. “From ashes, phoenixes rise. So too does thunder, both obliterating and regenerating.”

A luminous thread of electricity exploded skyward, bathing Ghost Island in its radiance. Within that brilliance pulsed vital energy, making the skeletons’ deathly aura tremble like autumn leaves caught in a storm.

Silence fell.

The ghostly figure gaped, as if haunted by something unseen.

Even Yaoruoxian’s doll-like features betrayed turmoil, hesitation crystallized in her widened eyes.

Yue Guilong’s breath caught. “The Thunder-Struck Sacred Wood! This echoes Brother Zhang’s epiphany during boarding!”

A masterful deception—Zhang Yang had veiled the life-giving core of the Slaughter Thunder Saint Power until now. A true thunder cultivation masterstroke.

Chaos erupted.

“Impossible!” Blood Skeleton shrieked. “Thunder brings ruin! This… this vitality is trickery!” Yet the other skeletons trembled, their death-rattles transforming into whispers of hope:

“Can this lightning purge our curse?”

“It speaks of dawn after endless night!”

Their existential terror was palpable. Ghost Island’s denizens had always walked the knife’s edge of undeath, their survival tied to the yin-yang spring’s paradoxical baptism.

Yet here crackled a power that did not sustain death, but promised transformation, not mere coexistence with decay, but true rebirth.

A path leading not back to the spring, but out to the sunlight.

Zhang Yang’s smile was edged with steel. “Well, White Jade?”

The skeleton’s soul fire churned like a storm-tossed sea.

Mere thunder could not decide fate, not when wielded by a mortal still ascending to the Heaven realm.

A gelid chuckle sliced through the tension.

“Choose wisely,” the ghostly figure crooned. “Missteps here echo through eternity.”

“What eternity?” Zhang Yang countered. “An endless twilight of servitude? Or one gamble for dawn? We martial artists defy heaven itself to rewrite destiny. Why cling to a cursed half-life?”

The specter sneered. “Gambling lives on mayfly hopes… poetic delusions.”

“And yet, even death can liberate.”

Zhang Yang’s words lingered in the air as the White Jade Skeleton lifted the Moonlight Saint Stone.

"My choice is made." The island fell silent, waiting to see whose hands would hold the glowing stone.