Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Darkness That Devours Light

Leng Bingyan watched quietly, feeling the aura radiating from the golden chalice. A pressure, holy and radiant, pressed upon him, and in its presence he almost felt as if he were some abhorrent sinner.

With a cold snort, Bingyan lifted his violet sword, the tip pointing downward, adopting a manner both relaxed and guarded.

“God said: Darkness shrouds the world, but the flame of light burns fierce, destined to break the shackles of night and extinguish it. God bestowed upon me the Holy Grail, the power of the Holy Grail, the Flame of the Grail!” Galahad intoned softly, his words both a hymn to light and a scorn to darkness. As he chanted, the golden chalice in his hand gleamed ever brighter, golden light flickering, as if a fire blazed within.

So this is the so-called Flame of the Grail? Bingyan pondered, then sneered—what a grand praise for light and belittlement of darkness! Under the great Dao, heaven and earth form the backbone; all things exist as part of the way, following the law of nature—everything is interdependent, each force counterbalancing another, and extremes meet their opposites. When did darkness and light become such absolute foes, simply as he declares?

Ah yes—those birdmen, self-proclaimed messengers of light, nurture their faith by denigrating their enemies. This Flame of the Grail is indeed fierce; with a thunderous shout, Galahad unleashed a mass of golden and white flame, which surged toward Bingyan.

A gleam flashed in Bingyan’s eyes, the corner of his mouth curving in a fleeting, enigmatic smile. Lifting the violet sword, he simply angled it across his chest and did nothing more, tilting his head back to meet the oncoming Flame of the Grail head on.

Galahad was startled. Did this man intend to withstand the Grail’s flame with his bare body? Then, with a derisive sneer, he thought: Who does he think he is? The Flame of the Grail is the hottest fire known, capable of destroying all dark creatures. Remembering the might of those beings, Galahad, one of the mightiest of the Twelve Knights of the Round Table, felt a chill. Yet he comforted himself—no matter how strong a dark creature, none could withstand the Grail’s flame. And this man from the East dares to face it with his own flesh—does he have a death wish?

How could Galahad know? In his understanding, dark creatures such as vampires, werewolves, and dark sorcerers were already among the most formidable beings in the world, and the Flame of the Grail was the ultimate fire. He could not have imagined that, far in the East among the cultivators, his truths were nothing but ignorance and arrogance.

But sometimes ignorance is bliss. Galahad and his fellow knights were already hard-pressed against the dark creatures of Europe. If they learned now that these so-called dark beings were nothing special, perhaps they would collapse from despair.

With a whoosh, the Flame of the Grail struck Bingyan head on, engulfing him in golden fire.

A flicker of pity passed through Galahad’s eyes, quickly hidden. Soon, with the artifact in hand, the Twelve Knights under King Arthur would purge the land of darkness and make Britain a realm of pure light.

But disappointment awaited him. The Flame of the Grail did not dissipate as expected. One of its properties was to burn until the enemy was destroyed, yet now, after burning for so long, it still had not vanished. Galahad’s heart sank—what did this mean? That this Eastern warrior was far more powerful than any dark creature he had ever faced.

A terrible premonition gripped him. And sure enough, a long, sharp hiss split the air as a mass of white fire tore through the golden Flame of the Grail. Galahad’s pupils contracted in shock—was this man a god?

Bingyan waved his hand with effortless grace, lifting his violet sword, his entire form shrouded in an aura of transcendent energy, surging around him like a blazing white inferno. It was this energy that had just sundered the golden flame.

Bingyan had merely wanted to test the power of the Flame of the Grail, but he was left disappointed. The hierarchy of fire’s strength is thus: the Flame of Chaos, the Duality Pure Fire, the Xuantian Swift Fire, the Nine Netherworld Ghost Fire, the Red Lotus Karma Fire, the Ninefold True Fire, the Sixfold True Fire, and the Threefold True Fire. This so-called Flame of the Grail could hardly be called fire at all; at best, it was a form of energy, perhaps on par with the Threefold True Fire.

Bingyan was thoroughly disappointed—the Flame of the Grail left him entirely unscathed. It was simply too weak.

“Let me show you what real fire is.” As he spoke, Bingyan’s gaze sharpened. He opened his palm, and a ball of blazing white fire appeared, its tip flickering and dancing without wind.

“This is the Threefold True Fire, which can rival your so-called Flame of the Grail.” As soon as the words left his lips, the fireball’s color deepened, growing brighter until it was pure white, radiating intense light. “This is the Sixfold True Fire, far mightier than your Grail’s flame.” Still not finished, the fireball evolved again, its quality ascending, until it became a pale, almost translucent flame, exuding immense pressure. “This is the Ninefold True Fire!”

Galahad was utterly shaken. Bingyan shook his head. “Regrettably, my current strength only allows for this. With the aid of the Source of Fire—” the pale fireball turned red, blooming like a lotus flower “—I could call forth the Red Lotus Karma Fire.”

Red Lotus Karma Fire—legend holds that when an immortal reaches the pinnacle before ascending to the divine realm, the heavens send a tribulation to test the weight of one’s karma. If one’s sins are too great, the tribulation’s karma fire will consume them. The Red Lotus Karma Fire is the bane of all immortals; to be wounded by it is to face near certain death upon ascension.

Bingyan could only release a sliver of it by drawing upon the Source of Fire, and even then, it was not enough to harm a true powerhouse.

Galahad was overcome with a sense of helplessness. When had he last felt such crushing powerlessness? He turned to Geraint, who was supporting Bedivere. “Geraint, let’s attack together.” At this juncture, he could not care about fairness—Bingyan was overpowering them.

Geraint immediately joined him. Galahad said, “Today’s events are the greatest trial the Twelve Knights of the Round Table have ever faced. Hold nothing back—we must destroy this man. If he lives, we die.”

Galahad knew Bingyan did not deserve death, and even the charges against him were mere fabrications. But things had gone too far; there was no turning back.

“God said: Let there be light, and there was light!” Galahad chanted.

“God said: The opposite of light is darkness, and so there was darkness!” Geraint intoned as well.

“God said: Let light and darkness be divided, and thus there was day and night!”

As Bingyan listened to their chanting, a surge of revulsion rose within him. It seemed the evangelizing had been successful—so many praised and believed in their God.

But Bingyan was not about to play along. In his eyes, they were mere charlatans, albeit high-class ones.

As Galahad and Geraint chanted, the surroundings changed. Beams of powerful, compassionate light appeared from nothingness, gradually illuminating the night. Fortunately, the two knights, not zealots detached from the world, had already sealed the area from the outside as they prepared to strike.

A barrier—what they called a Holy Light Barrier—a divine gift, in their words. Bingyan merely sneered; it saved him from worrying that outsiders might notice.

The aura of light between Bingyan and the knights grew increasingly intense, a hint of thunder rumbling through the air. Seeing the power of light reach such a height, Galahad’s face revealed a trace of excitement. With this much holy power, their strength was vastly amplified in this space, while the enemy’s would be most heavily suppressed.

A savage look twisted his face, the result of pushing his power to the brink and beyond. The smile he wore no longer resembled a smile at all.

“God of Light, bless all people; let light shine upon the earth!” Galahad and Geraint shouted in unison.

With their shout, the power of light in the space intensified sharply. Bingyan frowned. Were they courting death, overdrawing their power so recklessly? Was this the stubbornness of faith?

“No matter. Since that’s your choice, don’t blame me for being merciless!” With this thought, Bingyan brandished his violet sword, his awe-inspiring presence surging forth. With his other hand, he traced a complex series of seals in the air, his voice cold and clear: “So you want light? What if I choose darkness?”

Hearing this, Galahad felt a sudden unease, but it was too late. He believed the light had grown so strong that, with one more burst from the Grail, their power would be overwhelming.

“God said: Darkness shrouds the world, but the flame of light—”

“What if I declare the coming of darkness?” Bingyan cut him off, channeling his inner spirit energy, resonating with the world’s aura, drawing a wisp of the Yin essence from the Grand Chaos Five Elements Array, which began to pulse.

Galahad’s excitement faded as swiftly as the light in the chamber, replaced by pallor. To his horror, he found himself unable to summon light, while a trace of darkness spread from Bingyan, all the more striking amid the brightness, and the light itself seemed to be devoured.

With a rush, light was swallowed by darkness. Galahad, poised to unleash the Flame of the Grail, froze in place. The darkness was terrifying—not mere absence of light, but the force of the Yin origin.

Both he and Geraint, their attempt to summon light forcibly interrupted, suffered a backlash, coughing up blood and weakening greatly.

Glancing at the darkness surrounding them, they tried again to call forth light, but it was as futile as chasing dreams. Not a trace of light remained in this space. The law of nature dictates that all things are balanced, mutually dependent and counteracting; no origin can truly vanish, but here, light was a mere derivative of the Yang origin. Simply put, Galahad and Geraint’s strength was insufficient to summon light in such an environment.

Despair settled over them, their faces ashen and lifeless.

Seeing this, Bingyan felt a twinge of pity. He knew well the saying, “An innocent man gets into trouble because of his treasures.” In the end, these knights were motivated by benefit, which was understandable. Who could truly forsake all desire? Not others, not Bingyan himself.

He sighed. “Mercy in the face of indecision is folly.” With that, Bingyan withdrew his energy and, before the knights could react, slipped away quietly.

What is indecision? Sometimes mercy is itself a form of decision. This outcome was only possible because Galahad and Geraint still stood on the side of justice; had they shown the slightest hint of malice, Bingyan would have shown no mercy.

Though their loyalty was to God, it was undeniable that they also sought to protect their country.