Chapter 85: The Warrior Goddess Reveals Her Edge

The antlered monster could never have anticipated that this sword would possess such spiritual awareness, able to organize its own assault without human command—it was, in essence, a divine artifact akin to an innate spiritual treasure.

Yet, terror or not, the crisis before him had to be faced. As the sword tip, carrying a chill, thrust towards his head, the antlered monster rolled desperately on the spot, narrowly dodging the decapitating strike.

With a furious roar, he suddenly transformed, before the stunned eyes of his two adversaries, into a colossal spotted deer, visible to the naked eye. Judging by size alone, it was comparable to an ordinary tiger, perhaps even surpassing one in height and presence. Normally, a spotted deer evokes an image of gentleness and grace, but this beast was shrouded in thick demonic energy, its blood-red eyes burning with fury, and its four robust hooves exuding formidable power. The entire creature radiated an imposing aura.

At that moment, the Cold Snow Sword dove once more for his abdomen, faster and more forceful than before—should it land, it would pierce straight through the deer without question.

But the transformed monster seemed unfazed by the sword’s attack. As the tip whistled towards him, he leapt violently from the ground, raised a massive hoof, and kicked at the sword as it shot forward like a stream of light.

A sharp metallic clang echoed at the instant sword met hoof. The impact jolted the giant deer, sending him crashing to the ground like a kite with its string cut. The Cold Snow Sword, too, was sent flying by the tremendous kick, returning to Evening Beauty’s hand and emitting a resonant metallic hum.

Who would have thought that this seemingly lowly demon had such formidable techniques, especially after transforming—even the Cold Snow Sword could not injure him. The sword had clearly struck his foreleg, yet it merely knocked him down, leaving not a scratch, not even a mark on his skin.

One must know, while the Cold Snow Sword was not among the top ten holy weapons of the Wildlands, it was still a once-in-a-millennium immortal artifact, capable of splitting hairs with ease.

After crashing to the ground, the antlered monster howled in pain, then leapt up once more, now more ferocious than ever, charging straight for Evening Beauty. In the moonlight, his two brown forehooves gleamed with a faint golden light, the force behind them greater than both of his previous attacks combined.

"Be careful, Immortal!" Mountain Goblin called out anxiously from the side, his heart pounding with fear.

But Evening Beauty merely shrugged nonchalantly, traced a figure in the air with the Cold Snow Sword, and recited calmly, "Let spirit subdue demon!"

As the words fell, the sword’s aura erupted once more, spreading a biting chill in all directions. From the blade leapt a qilin, shrouded in auspicious radiance.

Before Evening Beauty could even command it, the qilin roared and charged forward. Raising its massive paw, it struck with the force of a giant.

Never had the spotted deer encountered such a spectacle—Evening Beauty alone was an insurmountable foe, and now a qilin, king of all spirit beasts, had appeared from nowhere. Paralyzed with fright, the deer froze, unable to move.

Only as the qilin’s colossal paw descended did the deer, in a panic, retreat in haste, his earlier bravado utterly gone. But how could a mere deer elude a qilin? As he tried to flee, the qilin leapt forward in a single bound, and before the deer could land, struck him midair. The frail form was sent flying, crashing heavily into an ancient tree.

Falling to the ground, the deer spat a mouthful of blood, his earlier invincible aura dissipating entirely, replaced by a decrepit, withered state. His body soon reverted to human form, save for the antlers atop his head.

With the conflict resolved, the children’s cries were silenced by the spectacle. Mountain Goblin cast a curious, awed look at the now-dying antlered monster and muttered, "To think he dominated Mount Goulu all his life, only to end up like this, all his strength gone—what a pity."

"He brought this upon himself," Evening Beauty replied coolly, glancing at the monster before fixing her gaze on Mountain Goblin with curiosity. "Is your injury healed?"

"Almost entirely," Mountain Goblin grinned, then asked, "What do you plan to do with the antlered monster?"

"Kill him, to eliminate future trouble," she answered, her voice even, her words carrying a hint of ruthless finality, as if taking a life was a matter of no consequence.

"But he’s already lost all his power—can you not spare him? Heaven created all things, and all beings are equal," Mountain Goblin pleaded cautiously, his small eyes searching Evening Beauty’s beautiful face, hope and fear mingling within them.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him!"

"He must die, so the dead villagers may be avenged!"

At that moment, angry shouts rang out from the forest, torches flaring in the darkness. Glancing up, Evening Beauty saw it was the people of the Feather God Tribe, who had pursued them here—she had been so focused on the battle that she’d overlooked her surroundings.

A quick scan revealed a crowd of a dozen or more, and among them was the little girl, Falling Petals. When Evening Beauty’s calm gaze met hers, the girl eagerly pushed through the crowd, ran to her side, and exclaimed with a broad grin, "Sister, you were amazing fighting the antlered monster! We were all so inspired!"

"You saw everything?" Evening Beauty asked, her arm around the girl’s neck, amused.

"Of course! Sister, you looked just like a goddess descended to earth—so beautiful and extraordinary!"

Despite her youth, Falling Petals was surprisingly eloquent, her flattery effortless and artful.

At that moment, the chieftain hobbled over, leaning on his staff, murmuring with emotion, "To think you are a goddess! I truly failed to recognize you, and have been remiss in your presence."

As he spoke, he bent his aged back, preparing to offer her a deep bow.