Jiang Ming stumbled backward several steps, his back slamming heavily against the cold stone wall. He slowly slid down the surface until he slumped amidst the wreckage.
Agonizing pain, exhaustion, and the hollowness left by overextending his Soul Source gnawed at his body like vermin. He didn’t even have the strength to lift a finger, so he simply leaned his head back against the rough wall, gasping for breath.
“So this is what real combat is like?” Jiang Ming chuckled bitterly, blood leaking from his mouth once more.
This genuine pain, this weakness bordering on his limit, this nauseating smell of blood… it was far more indelible than any VR simulation.
He only managed to win thanks to the thousands of times he had fought within the game. Even though it was just a simulation, it had provided significant help to his combat techniques.
Most importantly, his opponent was a cultist. According to the lore, the power of a Soul Source originated from the soul itself, and most cultists had traded parts of their souls to the angels in exchange for something. Their souls were fragmented. Therefore, while their Soul Source abilities might be formidable, they were often inferior to other Beyonders once a battle devolved into a direct clash of magical power.
Jiang Ming leaned against the cold stone wall, every breath straining his injured body. This authentic pain served as a cruel proclamation: he was no longer a bystander watching from behind a screen.
He suddenly remembered the nights he spent playing The Final Elegy. Back then, he always felt like a passenger standing on a platform, watching the train named “The Game” carry another version of himself across the screen, meeting and parting with those vivid characters. He could only watch the train fade into the distance, his hands empty.
But now, the tracks had extended beneath his feet.
Without realizing when, he had purchased this blood-stained ticket and boarded this one-way train with no return.
“Truly…” He looked up at the Glimmer seeping through the shattered dome of the church and forced a bloody smile.
“There’s no room for regret at all.”
This was a journey with no turning back.
Silence returned to the church. The previous red spiderwebs had vanished, leaving only the scent of blood growing thicker in the air.
“The authorities… should be arriving soon.” Jiang Ming panted, leaning against the ruined wall.
The rituals of the Ash Angel had always been primary targets for the Beyonder agencies of various nations. Now that the Void Domain was broken, the energy fluctuations from the fierce battle must have already tripped the Monitoring Network.
Just as he was about to close his eyes to regulate his breathing, his gaze inadvertently swept across the floor. The pool of blood formed by Welu’s gore was now as preternaturally still as a dark red mirror. And reflected in that mirror was the face he had back on Earth before he crossed over.
At the very moment that thought flashed through his mind, the reflection in the blood pool suddenly twisted and shattered. A giant compound eye, filled with countless crystalline lenses, emerged out of thin air, tearing his face into ten thousand fragments.
“Hehehe…”
An ethereal and eerie feminine laugh echoed simultaneously in every corner of the church, as if originating from another dimension. Accompanying the laughter, crimson spiderwebs once again spread frantically from the center of the blood pool, covering the church walls and dome in the blink of an eye.
The hair on Jiang Ming’s neck stood on end. He could clearly perceive it—some unspeakable existence was attempting to break free from the depths of that blood pool!
“Damn it!”
The descent of an angel required the connection of a name, but where was the person here to speak or write its name?
His gaze suddenly froze on the corpse of Truss. Beside a blood-stained finger, three twisted characters had been traced in fresh blood:
Beelzebub
“Next time, I’ll definitely remember to deliver a finishing blow!”
Jiang Ming flipped his middle finger at the corpse.
A frenzied will flooded the church like a tide. The air vibrated, and the barriers of sanity let out a groan, unable to bear the weight.
Jiang Ming saw countless slimy tentacles sprout from the ground, the walls, and even the void itself, rushing toward the corpses like jackals scenting blood.
They coiled and tightened.
The corpses emitted a tooth-aching creak within the embrace of the tentacles.
It wasn’t simple chewing; it was the wet, sticky noise of tens of thousands of tiny mouthparts tearing and sucking at the same time. Interspersed with the crisp sound of bones being crushed, it distorted into a high-pitched cry similar to a baby’s wail, yet far more hair-raising.
The surfaces of the tentacles were terrifying structures formed by countless, densely packed, barnacle-like mouthparts that opened and closed rhythmically. Every tiny mouth snapped greedily, secreting a dark, viscous fluid.
The air let out a mournful cry like breaking glass as reality was shattered like a mirror.
Amidst the horrific scene of countless tentacles greedily devouring the remains, a red-haired woman stepped out leisurely. She walked barefoot across the thick pool of blood; wherever she passed, the frantically dancing tentacles receded like a ebbing tide.
She stopped in front of Jiang Ming, leaning down to extend a slender finger and gently tilt his chin up.
She was an existence of breathtaking beauty, with hair like flames contrasting against snow-white skin. However, Jiang Ming was chilled to the bone; every inch of his muscle was as stiff as stone, unable to move an inch, leaving him at her mercy.
“Your soul…” The woman tilted her head slightly, her deep black eyes swirling with a non-human curiosity. “Is quite interesting.”
Her fingertip brushed against the side of his neck, bringing a sensation of ice and fire intertwined.
“Both ancient and brand new; both familiar and strange.” She leaned down to whisper in his ear, her breath carrying the singular fragrance of roses and sulfur.
“You aren’t one of those pathetic dead souls…”
Her red lips curved into a dangerous arc.
“You are a human.”
“So, tell me—”
“Who exactly are you?”
Jiang Ming twitched the corner of his mouth, suppressing his discomfort, and spoke: “Answers… always come with a price, lady.”
The red-haired woman was slightly taken aback, then she actually knelt down, bringing herself to eye level with Jiang Ming.
Those black eyes, deep as an abyss, locked onto him. Behind her, those writhing tentacles seemed to receive a silent command and began to slowly creep toward Jiang Ming’s position.
“Oh?” Her voice held a hint of amusement, yet it was colder than ice. “Then why do you think… you are qualified to negotiate with me?”
The invisible pressure suddenly intensified, nearly making Jiang Ming’s bones groan, but he struggled to keep his voice steady.
“Lady, of course I am not qualified to negotiate with you.” Jiang Ming paused before continuing.
“But someone once did negotiate with you, didn’t they?”
“For example… the First King, Solomon.”
Jiang Ming forced a pale smile. In this world, many truths regarded as ultimate secrets by mortals were nothing more than setting notes he had once read through.
Such as the ancient covenant: the Original Angels had once made a vow with Solomon that they could never proactively harm a living human.
The red-haired woman slowly stood up, the freezing coldness in her eyes quietly dissolving. She wasn’t angered by being exposed; instead, a flash of pleasant surprise crossed her gaze.
It was the surprise of a shrewd merchant seeing something of great value.
“To even know about that, you truly are… unique.” She let out a light laugh, this time carrying a lazy playfulness. “Would you like something to drink? My treat.”
“Then… I’ll have a lemon soda.” Jiang Ming didn’t refuse; he didn’t have the strength to refuse anyway.
Almost the moment the words left his mouth, a chilled soda with a lemon slice appeared out of thin air in his hand. He didn’t hesitate, tilting his head back to drain it in one go. The cold liquid temporarily suppressed the taste of blood in his throat and the burning pain in his body.
“So,” the woman sat directly on the rubble beside him this time, her elbow resting casually on her knee as she propped up her chin to look at him, her tone like an invitation to a friend for dinner.
“How would you like to become my Fixer?”