Chapter 50: The Goddess
Amidst the desolate wasteland, where radiation gnawed at the very essence of life. The once-thriving Tang Li Sect lay in ruins, its once-proud structures reduced to mere nothing, a stark testament to the destructive power unleashed upon it.
In the heart of this ravaged landscape, an old man with hair as white as the driven snow and a beard that trailed behind him like a tattered banner emerged from the depths of a hidden tunnel. His weathered face bore the marks of countless battles and the weight of countless sorrows. In his arms, he cradled two precious burdens: A girl of thirteen with eyes that sparkled like stars amidst the darkness, and her younger brother, a boy of six with a spirit as resilient as the wasteland itself.
The ground beneath his feet was uneven and pockmarked with holes, as if the very earth itself had been ravaged by some unspeakable force.
In the distance, jagged mountain peaks pierced the sky, their rugged surfaces split and cracked. The air was thick with the acrid stench of radiation, a constant reminder of the devastation that had befallen this once-thriving land.
As he walked, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet echoed through the stillness, a haunting melody that seemed to mock the silence of the desolate landscape. Every step revealed fresh horrors – a tangle of melted bones, a shattered skull– each one a grim testament to the unfathomable destruction that had occurred here.
The sky above was a sickly yellow-green, a color that seemed to cling to everything it touched, imbuing even the smallest details with an aura of dread. It was as if the very fabric of reality had been poisoned, leaving behind a world that was both familiar and yet utterly alien.
His footsteps slowed as he approached a massive crater, its edges worn smooth by time and weather, its depths shrouded in shadow.
For a moment, he stood there, peering into the abyss. Then, with a deep breath, he began his descent, his footsteps echoing off the walls of the crater.
Arisha, take care of your brother," the old man rasped, his voice barely audible above the howling winds that swept across the barren expanse. With a heavy heart, he placed the children behind the tunnel's entrance, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination.
As the old man stepped out into the apocalyptic panorama, he was met with the gruesome sight of the sect leader and elders, their bodies sprawled lifeless upon the scorched earth. Their faces, frozen in masks of terror, bore witness to the cataclysmic event that had befallen their sect.
The old man's heart sank as he realized the reason behind this utter devastation. The Tang Li Sect, consumed by an insatiable hunger for power, had resorted to the heinous practice of qi drain, extracting the life force from their own disciples, who willingly sacrificed themselves in a misguided quest for spiritual enlightenment.
The old man, a man of profound compassion and unwavering moral compass, had vehemently opposed this practice, refusing to teach his own grandchildren the ways of qi manipulation. He believed that true power lay not in exploiting the weak but in uplifting them, in fostering harmony rather than discord.
As he stood amidst the ruins, his gaze fell upon a figure standing at the edge of the wasteland. A man, his eyes glowing with an eerie blue light, emanated an aura of immense power. This was the Awakened Devil Rank Gifted, a being of unparalleled strength and power.
The old man's breath caught in his throat as he felt the oppressive weight of the devil's presence. Even after using qi drain on countless disciples the old man struggled to breathe, the devil's power seemed boundless, an insatiable void that devoured all in its path.
He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the devil. "Thank you for letting me save them," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
With a booming voice that echoed across the wasteland, the devil declared, "They don't have the energy."
The old man, despite his fear, stood tall, his resolve unwavering. He would not cower before this malevolent force. He would fight, not for his own sake, but for the sake of his beloved grandchildren.
As the old man braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, the devil ignored the man and walked towards a treasure. It's form, shimmering with an otherworldly glow, resembled that of a tortoise, a rare and powerful treasure.
Unbeknownst to the devil, his mere gaze, infused with his immense power, unleashed a torrent of energy that engulfed the tortoise, causing it to dissolve into a shower of sparks. The old man, caught in the maelstrom of power, was obliterated in an instant.
Far away, in the secluded depths of a mountain retreat, an old man, seated in the lotus position, slowly opened his eyes. His face, etched with the lines of time and hardship, bore a hint of surprise, a flicker of life in the depths of his aged eyes.
"The goddess let me live," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
******
A Sleek red air car coming to a halt outside an orphanage, its gleaming surface reflecting the sun's rays like a beacon. The guards in black suits rush to open the doors, revealing a tall, handsome man with black hair and a built physique, but with a noticeable scar running across his left eye. He exudes an air of confidence and authority, commanding attention without saying a word.
The caretaker of the orphanage, an elderly woman named Mrs. Smith, ran out to greet him with a mix of fear and obsequiousness. Orton ignored her and headed straight for the entrance, It becomes apparent that this is no ordinary orphanage, but rather a front for Orton's illegal operations - a drug factory where children are forced to work and supply drugs to various businessmen and barons.
Orton's visit today is prompted by a disturbing report - a young girl killed one of his men who attempted to assault her. He wants to see this girl for himself, to understand what kind of individual would dare challenge his authority.
As he entered the orphanage, the children fell silent, their eyes fixed on the imposing figure before them. Orton's gaze sweeps across the room, stopping at the only child who appeared different from the rest - a young girl with a blood soaked face, holding her little brother close. There was a hint of defiance in her eyes, a spark that catches Orton's attention.
His right-hand man gestured for the girl to approach, and she does so, her steps steady and resolute. Despite her swollen face and bleeding wounds, she exudes a quiet strength that belies her age - no more than 13 years old.
Orton smiled, seemingly amused by her bravery. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice deep and measured.
The girl paused, considering her response carefully before answering, "Arisha."
Orton nodded, acknowledging her reply. "I know you have a weapon, but why do you hesitate? Is it because I'm more powerful, or are you simply a scared little girl?". "If you can land a single hit, I'll let you and your brother live."
Arisha's response was swift and unexpected. She produces a pocket knife from her blood-covered hand and moves towards Orton with a speed that catches his men off guard. However, Orton stands firm, unfazed by her sudden movement.
********
A lady wearing a white bikini lay peacefully on a bed, her sleep occasionally interrupted by twitches and mutters. She was dreaming, reliving a memory from her childhood. In the dream, she was 13 years old, running alongside her 7-year-old brother, the sound of footsteps closing in on them growing louder with each passing moment.
She woke up with a start, rubbing her neck slightly as she tried to shake off the remnants of the dream. But before she could fully orient herself, a loud knock at the door drew her attention.
Annoyed, she got out of bed and approached the door, her hand automatically reaching for the katana that leaned against the wall. She opened the door to find a slightly chubby Asian man standing before her, a sly smile spreading across his face.
"What's with the blade, Arisha?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Arisha glared at him, her grip on the katana tightening. "What do you want?" she snapped.
The Asian man took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Blue whalers are becoming too brazen. The boss wants your underlings to fix this."
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone