Chapter 111: The Crimson Thread Goldwing Centipede

Chapter 111: The Crimson Thread Goldwing Centipede Next moment, the Thorn Squad stood frozen as the faint light revealed a waking nightmare: the darkness itself bled, oozing thick, tar-like rolling mist that pulsed with toxic malice. Lordi Payne’s blood ran cold. The darkness in front of him was alive. It breathed. It bled. And from its depths, the dead crawled forth. Hundreds. Thousands. Men with gouged-out eyes. Women clutching slit throats. Children with bloated, waterlogged skin. Even demonic beasts, their maws still dripping with old blood. Resentful wraiths clawed their way into existence—men, women, children, elders, even skinned demonic beasts, their faces twisted in grotesque masks of agony and death. A fleeting glance in any direction revealed thousands of these malice beings. It was a sea of resentful wraiths, surging from the floor, oozing from the walls, pouring from the ceiling like a waterfall of the damned hell. A handful of resentful wraiths wouldn’t have fazed the Thorn Squad, but horror seized them as they sensed the resentful wraiths’ auras. Nearly all radiated power at the Seventh Layer Qi Refinement Stage or higher, their collective strength a suffocating wave of malevolent intent. Faces blanched, expressions twisted in dread. "Kill our way out—NOW!" Carl Murphy roared, his voice a ragged snarl. Without Garrick Blackthorn, their peak Ninth Layer captain, Thorn Squad faced a death sentence against this horde of high-layer resentful wraiths, each as formidable as themselves, crawling from the shadows with relentless hunger. Hand shot to his storage pouch, Carl Murphy roared, unfurling free a blood-red banner—its fabric so deep a crimson it seemed to drip. At its center, a gaping maw snarled, two pairs of jagged fangs glistening with menace as if wet with fresh blood. With a sharp incantation, Carl channeled his spirit energy into the flag. The maw twitched. Then—it lunged off the fabric, jaws unhinging like a serpent’s. A sucking vortex roared to life in its throat, and the nearest wraiths—screeching, clawing at the air—were dragged in and devoured whole, their forms twisting helplessly. As the banner consumed more wraiths, its surface bulging grotesquely, billowing without wind as if something inside fought to escape. Faces pressed against the crimson cloth, mouths stretched in silent screams. Hands clawed at the threads, desperate. Limbs twitched beneath the fabric. Carl’s veins stood taut on his forehead, face flushed with strain. Sweat beaded on his brow as he gritted his teeth—holding the flagpole. "Ngh—!" He held the spell a moment longer, then groaned, pointing at the banner. With a grunt, he ripped his hand back, and the maw gave a final, furious roar before retreating into the banner unwillingly. The flag sagged, the trapped wraiths momentarily subdued—but his knees buckled. He was spent. The horde of vengeful wraiths surged forward. Exhausted, Carl couldn’t restrain the wraith onslaught. Gripping the banner’s pole like a spear, he slashed at an incoming wraith. "Ruru, NOW!" Carl Murphy barked. "Gold-chan—DINNER TIME!" Ruru Rosa was already in motion. She flicked her wrist, releasing her Crimson Thread Goldwing Centipede. The creature was tiny—no longer than a finger—but its two pairs of gilded wings hummed like a struck bell as it shot into the fray. It’s indeed a bane to ghost beings. Darting like a blur of gold, it pierced through wraith after wraith, each touch dissolving them into foul smoke. Thorn Squad rallied, clustering tightly as they fought toward the sealed main hall gate. But halfway through their desperate charge, the centipede suddenly let out a piercing shriek. The centipede writhed mid-air, its wings spasming. Ruru, soul-bound to her demon beast pet, staggered, a wave of dizziness crashing through their bond. Her eyes glazed, and she clutched her skull, swaying on unsteady feet. "JUNIOR SISTER RURU?!" Drake Riggs shouted, slamming his bronze shield to fend off a lunging wraith. In the dim ghostfire’s flicker, the vast hall’s shadows cloaked the danger. As he knocked back another tar-bleeding wraith, he glimpsed a stealthy wraith creeping within a meter of Ruru, its toxic claws poised for her eyes. "Shit!" Drake Riggs’s warning died in his throat, and before he could call for Carl or Alena to aid— WHISP. A bone-white blade, wreathed in blood mist and baleful aura, slashed through the air. It impaled the wraith’s head, where the baleful aura touched, it boiling the ghost being into tarry bubbles that vanished instantly. "What kind of malice... is in that blade?!" Drake gasped, his pupils shrinking at the Blade of Life Hater’s power. No time to dwell. He slammed his shield down, carving a path through the wraiths swarming to exploit his distraction. "Gold-chan, return!" Ruru snapped back, shaking off the daze. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her skull, she lashed her leather whip like thunder, scattering wraiths too slow to dodge. "I said come back! NOW!" she shouted. The battle turned in an instant. One moment, the Crimson Thread Goldwing Centipede was a golden blur, slaughtering wraiths with ruthless efficiency. The next— A small, pale hand snatched it from the air. Shriek! Thorn Squad’s eyes snapped to that piercing shriek, their hearts seizing as they saw Ruru Rosa’s demon beast pet in the grip of a young girl. The vengeful wraith holding the centipede was different. It’s a child. No older than five or six. Her form unnaturally solid and corporeal. Her eyes had been gouged out, leaving only weeping trails of blackened blood down her translucent cheeks. Her mouth stretched too wide, lips splitting at the corners as she giggled—a wet, gurgling sound. With one hand, she ripped off a golden wing. With the other, she crushed dozens of its legs like snapping twigs. The centipede shrieked, its body spasming, ichor oozing from its wounds. The creature, moments ago a whirlwind of death, hung limp, its life fading in her merciless grasp. "Ninth Layer Qi Refinement Stage wraith?!" Alena Newman’s voice cracked with dread, her face ashen. "What in the HELL cursed this Hanz Clan? A Ninth Layer vengeful wraith—how is this fucking possible?" She shouted, desperation clawing her words, "The centipede’s too weak for battling a Ninth Layer! Use fire attacks! Burn it!" Carl reacted instantly, conjuring a sickly green ghostfire orb and hurling it at the wraith. Lordi, not missing a beat, summoned a wisp of azure Ice Pith Fire, its cold flame trailing Carl’s. The twin orbs—emerald and sapphire—streaked through the air, slicing toward the girl wraith. Her dull mind, despite her terrifying power, failed to evade. She released the centipede, instinctively grabbing the flames with both hands. The ghostfire fizzled out in seconds, snuffed by her aura. But the Ice Pith Fire roared, its icy ferocity crawling up her arm, searing her spectral flesh that shouldn’t exist. No matter how she screeched, thrashing, slapping at the flames, the flames clung, burning brighter and deeper. A bone-chilling scream tore from her maw, splitting the air with unearthly agony. The centipede, seizing its chance, scuttled back to Ruru Rosa, vanishing into her sleeve, broken but alive. Thorn Squad glanced at Lordi Payne, stunned by his fire’s potency, but there was no time for questions. "Run!" Carl bellowed, his voice raw. They charged for the sealed gate, Drake Riggs slamming his fist into the frame. THUD! The wood door didn’t budge, and glowing Dao Fulu symbols flared to life in the air, pulsing with malevolent energy. "Fuck! We stepped into a bind array!" he snarled. "BUY ME TIME! Hold them off—I’ll find the life gate!" Drake planted his bronze shield into the floor, its thud echoing like a war drum. He dropped to his knees, his ghost-hand compass already spinning in his palm. His fingers flew over it, calculating the array’s weak point as wraiths surged closer. The squad formed a tight circle, weapons flashing—Carl’s banner-pole slashing, Ruru’s whip cracking, Alena’s daggers glinting, and Lordi’s Blade of Life Hater trailing blood mist with every swing. Then, the girl wraith, her arm still smoldering, moved with horrifying purpose. She snatched a cluster of Seventh Layer wraiths beside her, their forms writhing in her grip, and shoved them into her gaping, black maw. Their screams were muffled as she chewed, blackened tar like ghost-flesh dripping from her jaws. The sickening crunch of spectral flesh echoed as she chewed, her aura swelling, a grotesque pulse of power. The Ice Pith Fire on her arm flickered and died, extinguished by her growing strength. Swallowing the last shred of wraith, she suddenly raised her head. Her hollow, bleeding sockets pierced through the writhing throng, locking onto Lordi Payne with a malice so palpable it chilled the blood. She smiled. And the wraiths horde surged forward.