Azrael shifted his attention to Bianca, a playful glint in his eyes. "You know, you could have kept the impact of our battle in check," he remarked with a smile.
Bianca responded with a teasing grin, "Oops, got a bit carried away with your glory."
Azrael chuckled, the playful tone prevailing. "No worries. I should have reminded you earlier. It's on me." He took a deep breath, reaching into the empty space. Clenching his fist, he retrieved his arm and inspected his hand. Outwardly, it seemed ordinary, but with his discerning eyes, he could see several threads locked within his fist. Releasing 60% of them, he retained only 40% of the threads.
After a thoughtful moment, Azrael dispersed the threads and spoke, "Let's ensure that the good people have a better life in their next one. Consider this my sincere apology. As for the 60% ? let's say this is my way in helping the world be a better place." He chuckled. He doesn't care about the 60% that died from his battle. They are worst than animals after all, however, he did make sure that the 40% would have a better life in their next lives as his apologies.
"You are too kind my darling." Bianca said with a loving smile.
Azrael chuckled, "I wouldn't be where I am now if I were overly kind. I can be as ruthless as needed."
"I know, and it's to protect us, your wives."
Azrael smiled sweetly and sat in a lotus position, closing his eyes as he entered a contemplative state, preparing to enter the bone-forging realm. Meanwhile, Bianca cast an illusion to conceal them from the outside world, ensuring their activities remained hidden.
Although Bianca has unwavering confidence in Azrael as the strongest being in the cosmos, she still stood faithfully by his side, guarding him as he delved into his cultivation. Her presence beside him served as a heartfelt declaration of her affection and unwavering support.
In the vast expanse of space, a figure suddenly appeared, directing his gaze towards a specific location—the former corrupted region.
The figure was shocked at what he saw; the corrupted region had vanished, leaving only faint traces of corruption energy and signs of a colossal battle.
"Who? Who dared to eliminate the corruption planted here?" He attempted to calculate and employ his divination methods to discern the events. Suddenly, he coughed up blood, his cultivation slipping away. "No!" He halted his divination attempts and could only speculate without relying on his divination technique.
"Could it be possible that my Majesty's plan was discovered by Emperor Akkslan, who then sent a powerful being to eradicate the corruption? Or perhaps my betrayal has been exposed?" He pondered, ruling out the latter since the eradication was confined to this particular planet. "The other planets under me and my fellow comrades that has corrupted region seem unaffected. It's safe to assume that the Emperor of the Dragons hasn't discovered my betrayal. But then, who erased the corruption here? And how are they strong enough to cause me backlash during divination?" His words were abruptly cut short by another bout of coughing up blood.
"It appears my injuries are more severe than I imagined. I should take rest and consume a high-grade pill. I need to plan my escape from this predicament. I'm uncertain how my Majesty will react once he realizes the task he assigned me—to plant the corrupted region—has been undone. I hope he doesn't notice, hope he hasn't deemed an ant like me worthy of his attention. Sigh, the sin called being weak." After a few moments, the figure vanished.
"Emperor Akkslan, the current emperor of the dragons, it seems that the conflict between him and Emperor Morus has escalated," Bianca remarked. Despite lacking great dao in Divinity, Fate, or Karmic arts, as a Saint Lord, divining lower cultivators was effortless for her. "I see what you are planning, Emperor Morus. To think he would plant corruption in several planets in this mortal universe and other mortal universes under the dragons. Devious, as they say. If I remember correctly, the Dragons are allies of the Phoenixes."
Her eyes glinted with insight, but she swiftly dismissed this thought as she sensed a formidable presence converging near her. Glancing at Azrael, she awaited the unfolding events.
As Azrael opened his eyes, a profound light emanated from within, reflecting the magnitude of the power he was about to unleash. In his outstretched palm, a tiny but potent concentration of the great dao's essence shimmered, a radiant mote in the vastness of cosmic energies. The air around him seemed to hum with anticipation as he directed this infinitesimal force toward his chest.
With a mere thought, the ethereal power began its journey, bypassing the layers of his physical form. It was as though the laws of nature themselves bowed to his command. As the force reached his spine, a seismic shift occurred. The torrent of the great dao erupted into a mesmerizing dance within his bones, a symphony of destruction and reconstruction that defied mortal comprehension. The spectacle unfolded at a pace inconceivable to the human eye, a ballet of cosmic forces playing out in the sacred space of Azrael's being.
In the midst of this celestial display, Azrael's eyes remained fixed, unwavering orbs that mirrored the unwavering determination within. His face, though etched with lines of concentration, bore no trace of pain. Each cycle of destruction and rebirth within his bones seemed to fortify his resolve, amplifying the aura of strength that radiated from him. It was a grand scene, a convergence of mortal and celestial, as Azrael harnessed the very essence of the great dao to sculpt the foundations of his being.
For an unbroken twelve hours, Azrael braved the relentless ordeal as his bones underwent a ceaseless cycle of destruction and reconstruction. Each passing second marked the shattering and reforming of his skeletal framework, an excruciating journey into realms of pain unfathomable to the mortal mind. Azrael, with unwavering willpower, endured this torment without a single cry escaping his lips.
As the marathon of bone-altering torment neared its zenith, a profound metamorphosis took root. Within Azrael's bones, multiple veins emerged, pulsating with newfound vitality. These veins, almost sentient in their throbbing rhythm, seemed to be infused with the essence of life itself. Simultaneously, Azrael's once formidable essence energy multiplied exponentially, reaching an incomprehensible zenith.
The culmination of this agonizing process birthed a marvel. The veins within Azrael's bones, began to exhibit an unprecedented phenomenon—they commenced the absorption of this potent essence energy. It was an alchemical fusion of the ethereal and the corporeal, an extraordinary synthesis achieved through Azrael's unwavering determination. The aftermath left him in a state of sublime strength, a living testament to the extraordinary trials he willingly embraced for the sake of his cultivation.
In the heavens above, a grand phenomenon unfolded as a dark expanse of clouds gathered, shrouding the entire planet beneath its ominous cover. The epicenter of this celestial spectacle was none other than Azrael, who, through his cultivation breakthrough, had once again disrupted the restriction guarded by the Heavenly Dao. As the dark clouds amassed, a wrathful response from the Heavenly Dao ensued—a manifestation of its displeasure at Azrael's repeated defiance.
Undeterred, Azrael rose with an air of unyielding confidence, facing the celestial wrath directed at him. A potent force of Great Daos emanated from his being, a testament to his complete alignment with these cosmic principles. The clash between Azrael and the Heavenly Dao intensified, the celestial force attempting to assert dominance over the intruder who dared to challenge its authority.
"I am tired of your exaggerated reactions, it gets annoying overtime." Azrael declared, his voice echoing with the resonance of Great Daos. The very essence of his words dispersed the Heavenly Dao's power, challenging its hold over the unfolding events. "This is not your domain to control. Do not obstruct my path again!"
His commanding voice reverberated through the cosmos, reaching the ears of powerful beings only at the Saint and above levels. Even as they strained to divine the source of this upheaval, the strength of Azrael's cultivation defied their attempts, leaving them in perplexed awe at the unprecedented display of cosmic defiance. They can't divine the source!
In a certain mystic realm, a sickly old man slowly opened his weary eyes, the depths of ancient wisdom reflecting in their dim light. With frail hands, he attempted to delve into the strands of destiny, seeking to unravel the mysteries woven in the fabric of time. However, the cosmic threads eluded his weakened grasp, slipping away like elusive specters. Frustration and resignation flickered across his weathered countenance as he shook his head in acknowledgment of the inscrutable forces at play.