The sky above the Dragon Kingdom had become a battlefield of gods and mortals.
Feng stood alone in the center of the devastation, the Cosmic Trident Spear still humming with purple lightning in his grip. His body was a map of brutal injuries, each one a testament to the overwhelming power he had faced.
A deep, jagged gash ran diagonally across his chest from the earlier holy beam, the edges cauterized by divine light but still oozing dark blood. Every breath sent fresh waves of burning pain through his lungs.
His stomach wound — the one the golden-haired hero had driven through him twice — had partially reopened during the fight with the angels. Blood soaked the front of his torn shirt, and the muscle there twitched with every movement, sending sharp, nauseating agony radiating outward.
His left shoulder was dislocated and badly bruised from blocking a direct strike, the joint grinding painfully whenever he raised the trident.
Several deep cuts crisscrossed his arms and thighs from the angels' flaming swords, some of them still smoking from holy fire.
The worst was the large puncture wound in his lower back where the leader's sword had pierced him earlier. It burned with an unnatural heat, as if the divine energy was still trying to purify his flesh from the inside.
Despite the injuries, Feng remained standing. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes were cold and focused. The pain was intense — a constant, screaming fire in every nerve — but he refused to let it slow him down. The power the Ancient Evil God had given him was already working to stabilize him, healing the worst of the damage at a visible rate, but it wasn't instantaneous. Each second he stood there, the pain reminded him exactly why he was fighting.
High above, the colossal projection of the Goddess of Light glared down at him, her voice thundering with divine fury.
"You dare stand against me after all I have taken from you? Your arrogance ends here!"
She raised her hand again, gathering another devastating beam of holy light.
Feng tightened his grip on the trident, purple lightning crackling louder along its length. Blood dripped from his wounds onto the cracked ground, but his stance remained firm.
He was hurt. Badly.
But he was far from finished.