Douluo Continent: The Destruction of Life, My Brother Huo Yuhao

The rain stopped.

The sky was turning a pale white as dawn broke through the clouds, casting its light upon the land that had just endured a massacre.

Dai Tu opened his eyes.

He lay on the ground, still holding Arlene in his arms. The air after the rain carried a strange smell of mud and blood, which filled his nostrils and made him feel somewhat dazed.

Was that just a dream?

He dreamt that he was still in Konoha Village, the sun was shining brightly, and Arlene was wearing a new dress, waiting for him under the old locust tree at the entrance of the village.

Hunter Wang returned carrying a wild boar, beaming as he announced he'd stew it for dinner. Aunt Li, hanging laundry in the yard, saw him and waved, saying, "Little Tu, come quick! Auntie made you some new shoes." The blacksmith's son chased after a butterfly, nearly bumping into it.

Then they went home.

Many years later, he and Arlene got married. The old village chief officiated at the wedding, and the whole village came to celebrate. They had their own child, a little girl who loved to laugh just like Arlene.

Life was ordinary, but warm.

But why... does my heart feel so empty?

Dai Tu sat up and looked around.

Sunlight illuminated the corpses scattered on the ground. The blacksmith's family of three lay together, still in their death positions. Wang the hunter's head rolled a few steps away, his eyes still open.

Aunt Li lay on the ground, a clear hole in her back. The old village chief leaned against a broken wall, a broken spear stuck in his chest.

And Arlene.

She lay beside him, her small body already stiff, the blood around the edge of the sword hole in her chest congealed into a dark red scab.

"So...it wasn't a dream after all."

"Dai Tu said softly."

His face was expressionless; he neither cried nor laughed, not even showed any sadness. His large, round eyes were now as empty as two deep wells, reflecting no light whatsoever.

He put Arlene down, stood up, and began digging a hole.

Without any tools, he used his hands. He knelt on the ground, dug his ten fingers into the soil, and dug with all his might.

It's okay if your nail breaks, keep digging. It's okay if your fingertip is rubbed raw and bleeding, keep digging.

A man with only his hands, silently digging beside a pile of corpses in the morning light.

They dug a hole, picked up Arlene, gently placed her in it, and covered her with soil.

Then erect a wooden monument and carve the words "Tomb of Arlene" stroke by stroke with the blood from your fingertips.

Keep digging.

The blacksmith's family has three workshops.

Wang the Hunter, a pit.

Aunt Li, a pit.

The old village chief is a pit.

He also dug a pit and buried the soldiers' bodies. Not out of pity, but simply because he didn't want the villagers to lie alongside these beasts.

They dug from dawn till noon. From noon till dusk.

His hands were a bloody mess, mud mixed with blood, stuck between his fingers and hardened into lumps. His back was burning hot from the sun, and his tattered clothes were soaked with sweat, sticking to his body wetly and stickily.

But he didn't stop.

Until the last body was buried and the last wooden tombstone was erected.

……

Silent all night.

Dai Tu stood before the densely packed graves, looking at the simple wooden tombstones and the name he had written in blood on them.

The sunlight slanted, casting a long, long shadow of his.

He looked down at his hands, which had been a bloody mess yesterday, with the bone visible, but now they were completely healed, without even a scar.

Only under the fingernails remained a few traces of dark red soil, the marks left after digging fifty-three graves.

"Oh……"

Dai Tu twitched the corners of his mouth, wanting to laugh, but found that he had forgotten how to laugh.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The air in the forest after the rain should have been fresh, but what lingered in his nostrils was still the stench of blood—the blood of Konoha Village, Arlene's blood, the villagers' blood, and the soldiers' blood.

They mingled together, seeping into the soil, into his memories, into every breath he took.

It can't be washed off anymore.

"Martial Soul..." he murmured to himself, as if trying to confirm something.

A thought subtly stirred within me.

Deep within his left eye, a scorching power suddenly awakened. A scarlet light shone in his eye, and the eerie dart-shaped pattern silently appeared, slowly rotating.

The world in my field of vision changed instantly. The veins of the leaves were clearly visible, and the flight path of a flying insect a hundred meters away was as slow as a snail's pace. The dust floating in the air was like still stars.

Kaleidoscope Sharingan.

The Lord of Slaughter, the Lord of Destruction, the Lord of Seeing Through All Things, and also the Lord of... Falling into the Abyss.

At the same time, he felt a completely different throbbing in his left palm.

A gentle, mellow, and powerful life force surged from my palm, and the phantom of a small tree appeared in the air—no, it can no longer be called a "small tree."

The trunk was about the thickness of a wrist and about three feet tall, with lush, verdant branches and leaves. The veins of the leaves were pale golden, shimmering with a warm glow in the morning light.

The tree canopy spread out, creating a small green halo. Wherever the halo reached, several tender green grass sprouts emerged from the scorched earth beneath our feet.

tree of Life.

The Lord of life, the Lord of healing, the Lord of nurturing all things, and also... the Lord of perseverance in the face of destruction.

Two forces flowed simultaneously within him. One was scorching and violent, like surging magma; the other was gentle and mellow, like a murmuring spring stream. They should have clashed and annihilated each other, but now they had strangely achieved a delicate balance.

The destructive violence was enveloped and tamed by the gentleness of life.

The fragility of life is supported and strengthened by the destructive spirit of destruction.

Dai Tu could feel that his originally thin soul power had reached the threshold of level 20 soul power under the nourishment of these two forces.

No, it's not just level 20.

He clearly felt that as long as he obtained a suitable spirit ring, he could break through immediately, and might even directly reach level twenty-two.

"My innate soul power should be even higher... level ten?"

Dai Tu murmured.

No, perhaps even higher. With the dual blessing of the Kaleidoscope and the Tree of Life, his cultivation talent has undergone earth-shattering changes. The feeling of his soul power growing at a snail's pace is gone forever.

But he couldn't feel happy at all.

If this power had come a day earlier, or even an hour earlier...

Will Arlene not die?

Will the old village chief still be able to drink the tea he brews?

Will the blacksmith's family still be able to laugh and chat by the furnace?

Dai Tu closed his eyes, the scarlet kaleidoscope disappeared, and the Tree of Life returned to his body. He stood there, motionless, like a statue.

Only the clenched fists, knuckles white from being squeezed, fingernails digging deep into the palms until they bled.

……

The realm of gods, the castle is destroyed.

This is a towering structure entirely constructed of deep purple crystals, with an aura of destruction that lingers year-round around the castle. Even ordinary deities who merely approach it will have their souls scorched by its violent destructive will.

On the platform at the highest point of the castle, a man and a woman stood side by side.

The man was dressed in dark purple divine attire, with a cold and stern face and sharp, piercing eyes.

He simply stood there, and the space around him was subtly distorting, cracking, and reforming, repeating itself endlessly—a sign that the rules of destruction were naturally manifesting around him.

God of Destruction.

The woman wore a long emerald green dress; she was stunningly beautiful and possessed a gentle and graceful demeanor.

She exuded a gentle life force, and wherever she stood, even on the cold purple crystal surfaces of the destroyed castle, several tender green vines quietly sprouted, blooming with tiny white flowers.

Goddess of Life.

These two first-level deities, who control the origins of life and destruction in the universe, are currently watching the black-haired boy standing at the edge of the forest in the lower realm through the endless void.

"Do you see that?" the God of Destruction spoke, his voice deep and metallic.

"Those eyes... a pure will to destroy, yet restrained and balanced by another force."

The goddess of life nodded gently, a hint of pity flashing in her eyes: "That child... carries too many wounds in his heart. His soul is weeping, I can hear it."

"Crying?" The God of Destruction sneered. "Weakness. True destruction requires severing all ties and being free of all attachments, so that the will to destroy can be carried out to its fullest extent."

"Then why are you still fixated on him?" The goddess of life turned her head, her gentle eyes looking at her husband.

The God of Destruction fell silent.

After a long silence, he slowly said, "Because of his balance, can you feel it? The destruction borne by those eyes, and the life borne by the sapling you gave him, have formed something within him... a balance we have been pursuing for billions of years."