Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel-Chapter 741: Threat Of the true heavens.

Chiron smirked and took a deliberate step forward.

"To think," he said lightly, voice carrying over the humming formation, "that I'd be having an avatar of a god for breakfast."

His eyes gleamed, sharp and hungry.

"This is going to be a delicious meal."

The monk grit his teeth as the last of his stability collapsed. His legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees, robes scorched and dim, divinity leaking from him like light through shattered glass.

"You fool…" the monk snarled, breath ragged. "You've made a catastrophic mistake. By making me your enemy, you've invited the wrath of the Alliance of the True Heavens. Every temple under our banner will hunt you until your soul is ground to dust."

Chiron chuckled, the sound low and amused.

"And how," he asked, "do you expect them to reach me?"

He tilted his head slightly.

"Gods can't descend to the mortal plane."

The monk's lips curved upward.

A smirk.

"Oh, they won't need to," he said softly. "After all… you're aiming to become a god yourself."

The words settled like a curse.

In that aspect, he was right. Chiron aimed at becoming a god. It was the onlybway to get immortality.

But at the same time, that did not mean that he was going to just allow some old mena and women that should be in the grave tagged as gods to bully him.

He snickered. Just as he had done to this man, he would do to all the others that threaten his life or stand in his path.

Then—

Boom.

The monk's body detonated into pure light.

Not fire.

Not force.

But refined, screaming divinity—brilliant, blinding, holy and violent. The blast tore upward and outward, shaking the sky, cracking the clouds, ripping golden fissures through the air.

Far deep in the realm of gods, a monk in deep meditations in a surreal room suddenly coughed up some blood.

Losing an avatar in the lower realm brought damage to his cultivation.

He frowned. "That brat."

Meanwhile, Chiron raised a hand calmly.

Threads of that escaping light bent toward him, drawn like moths to a flame. They spiraled around his fingers, condensed, and were pulled into his body.

He absorbed it.

The moment it entered him, Chiron's entire being shuddered.

Power flooded his meridians.

His cultivation surged violently, pressing against its limits, threatening to burst through in an uncontrolled breakthrough. Ecstasy drowned out pain.

His blood roared. His soul screamed in pleasure as divine essence fused with his foundations.

Too much.

Too fast.

Above him, the heavens rumbled again.

Dark clouds churned, thicker than before. Lightning writhed within them like furious serpents. Another tribulation was forming—drawn by the stolen divinity now seated within him.

Chiron's smile hardened.

He forced the energy down.

Deep.

Locked it within the core of his soul, wrapped in layers of seals, blood runes, and sheer will.

The pressure receded.

The clouds hesitated.

Chiron looked up at the heavens and chuckled.

"Not today."

The sky shuddered once… then slowly, unwillingly, the thunder dispersed. The clouds thinned. The divine gaze withdrew.

Silence returned.

Becoming a demi gods would mean that he had to face heaven tribulations. While that can be suppressed for a while, Chiron still wanted his freedom.

Not yet.

Not until he had the pieces he needed for his ascension to Godhood. He would do it all at once.

For now, he had to hold back and stay where he was.

He exhaled and dropped to the ground, sitting heavily amidst the broken earth. He laughed—tired, breathless, genuinely delighted.

"To think," he muttered, wiping blood from his mouth, "that I'd actually manage to harvest the divine essence of a heavenly avatar."

His smirk returned, sharp and knowing.

But even as he savored the victory, his gaze shifted.

The runes beneath him still glowed.

The land pulsed.

The Precious Land itself was drinking deep—faith strengthened, foundations reinforced, its spiritual veins thicker and more resilient than before.

Chiron wasn't the only one who had gained.

Not even close.

The devastation caused by the battle did not last.

At first, it was subtle—almost easy to miss.

A faint pulse spread outward from the ground beneath Chiron, like a slow heartbeat returning after death. Cracked earth shuddered, the fissures knitting themselves together as if invisible hands were stitching the land closed.

Then the greenery came back.

Grass burst from scorched soil in sudden waves, emerald blades pushing through ash and rubble. Vines crawled across broken stone, wrapping themselves around shattered foundations, drinking deeply from the lingering divinity in the air. Dead trees groaned, their blackened bark splitting as fresh wood surged beneath, branches stretching skyward with renewed hunger.

The Precious Land was feeding.

Chiron felt it clearly—felt the land spirit's joy ripple through the domain like laughter. The stolen divinity was not wasted. It was being broken down, refined, and absorbed into the land's core, strengthening its essence far beyond what mere spiritual energy could have achieved.

Behind him, the castle—once reduced to dust and jagged debris—began to rebuild itself.

Stone flowed like liquid back into place. Walls reformed brick by brick, runes re-etching themselves with brighter, cleaner lines than before. Towers rose from ruin as if time itself were reversing, banners reappearing whole, their fabric snapping gently in a wind rich with life and energy.

Even the air felt different.

Thicker.

Cleaner.

Alive.

Chiron slowly stood, his eyes narrowing as he sensed something else.

The borders.

The edges of the Precious Land were pushing outward.

Mountains in the distance shifted, stretching farther than they had before. Rivers extended their paths naturally, carving new routes without resistance. The sky itself seemed higher, deeper, as if the land had claimed more space from the void beyond.

It was expanding.

Not forcibly—but organically.

Like a living organism growing after a long-awaited meal.

Chiron inhaled deeply.

The scent of fresh earth, blooming flowers, and raw vitality filled his lungs. The land felt… younger. Stronger. As though it had been injected with pure life itself, washing away every scar left by the tribulation.

He smiled.

"Good," he murmured.