Void Battlefield, Yan and Lin Mo.
A pale palm was mere inches from Lin Mo’s crown.
The ancient Coin of Slumber lay quietly in the pool of blood, its patterns seeming to emit a faint glow.
Yan’s tribute was about to be delivered, Lin Mo’s correction was about to be completed.
However—
“Ahh—!”
A soft sigh, as if from the deepest reaches of the river of time, from the densest interweaving of fate’s threads, sounded without warning.
This sound was so soft, light as a feather brushing across the heart’s lake.
Yet, eerily… it instantly spread to every corner of the Death Realm!
Whether it was the gray mist space where Mirror Lake, Xia Ji, and Gu Qiancheng were locked in battle, or the abyss corridor where Ayane Hanyu and Chu You faced off.
Or the southwest evacuation point where Tie Jiang and others lay severely wounded, the eastern edge where Qing Luan and others were dying, the northern hills where Dui Zhang and others were trapped…
Even the deepest part of the underground cave where Su Xiji led his troops, infinitely close to the Underground Great Wall…
All beings in this Death Realm, whether real intruders or false natives, whether fighting, dying, or lurking…
In that instant, in everyone’s ears, or rather, in the depths of their souls, they clearly heard this sigh!
In the sound of the sigh was boundless desolation, limitless twilight, and an indescribable… exhaustion and understanding, as if seeing through the rise and fall of ten thousand ages, the struggles of billions of lives.
Yan’s palm, which was about to complete its final action, suddenly halted!
He whirled around, his pure white mask looking at the void behind him!
There was clearly nothing there, empty, only the absolute void belonging to this subspace.
But!
An unprecedented, bone-chilling sense of crisis, like the sharpest ice pick, stabbed deep into his consciousness!
It was not a physical threat, but a higher-dimensional threat, as if the very foundation of his existence, the logic and authority of fate he upheld, was being gazed upon and interfered with by something incomprehensible and irresistible.
This feeling… made Yan, who had always prided himself on grace and composure as if everything was under control, instantly have his hairs stand on end!
The expression on his possibly existing face beneath the mask changed drastically!
Even his breath was disrupted for a moment by this sudden, instinctive shock!
This feeling… This feeling… Yan’s pupils, behind the eye holes of the pure white mask, suddenly contracted to pinpricks!
There was no mistake!!!
This sense of pressure that made the soul tremble!
This absolute pressure that couldn’t even generate a thought of resistance from the deepest subconscious!
This fear of being just a piece of code that had been written and could be erased at any moment, while the other was like an ultimate administrator who held the source code…
Only… only that in the unseen, which he had prayed to countless times, tried to borrow power from, yet knew was boundless and unfathomable… the deity of fate… had ever given him a similar feeling!!!
But that should be an intangible, formless supreme rule that operates according to logic!
How… how could it sigh?!
How could it… so concretely… look at him?!
….
Outside the Death Realm.
A short figure stood on a hillside, silently overlooking that extremely distorted space.
He wore a faded, old tracksuit, hunched over, with a pair of old-era Warrior sneakers on his feet.
He was at most about 1.6 meters tall.
An ordinary old man with his hands behind his back, in the boundless, vast wilderness, looked so out of place.
But if any Enforcer were here, they would be astonished to find that this old man, who looked ordinary to the core, actually had a face identical to that of the giant statue in the Beifu Headquarters Plaza.
Enforcer Huafu HQ Chief and Supreme Commander, having survived since the age of the Oracle’s descent, known as the Pillar of Humanity—Wang Zhenwu!
When the lingering resonance of that sigh dissipated, the old man standing on the hillside outside the Death Realm, hands behind his back, spoke again.
“Fate… is the shackle of the coward…”
Just as Yan’s mind was shaken and wavering in shock and doubt, that voice, aged to the point of seeming it would dissipate with the wind in the next second, yet carrying a certain eternal rhythm, sounded again, echoing directly in every consciousness in the Death Realm.
“Humanity…”
The voice paused, and the twilight in it seemed to be diluted for a moment by a faint but tenacious light.
“Has never been willing to yield.”
The moment the words fell—Buzz!!!
Centered on some undetectable point, the entire space of the Death Realm, all subspaces, all cracks, all distorted or stable regions… simultaneously experienced a split-second, extremely violent yet non-destructive… rule disorder!
It was like a massive, precisely operating machine where all gears suddenly stuttered at once.
Or like a meticulously painted oil painting where all pigments suddenly deviated a thread from their original positions, then instantly reset.
But the impact of this momentary disorder was subversive!
“How is this possible…?!”
Yan exclaimed involuntarily, his voice for the first time losing its absolute calm, carrying an undeniable shock and… a trace of fear!
He whipped his head around, looking towards the horizon, the urgency in his heart growing wildly like a volcanic eruption!
Wrong!
Too wrong!
Something… had completely exceeded the script!
Exceeded logic!
I must immediately… immediately complete Lin Mo’s correction!
Can’t wait any longer!
He no longer hesitated, no longer probed the source of that sigh.
His pale left hand accelerated again, with resolute killing intent, and pressed down fiercely!
However, when his palm, symbolizing finality and slumber, truly fell—he grasped empty air.
Yan’s body suddenly stiffened.
He slowly, extremely slowly, lowered his head.
He looked at the spot his palm should have been covering.
There… was only a not yet fully coagulated, dark red pool of blood.
And the coin lying quietly in the center of the blood.
And that Lin Mo, who should have been collapsed in the blood, awaiting final judgment… was gone.
Vanished into thin air!
Without warning!
Not even a trace of spatial fluctuation or energy ripple left behind!
As if he had never existed!
No… that’s not right!
Yan suddenly realized something, a chill shooting from his tailbone to the top of his head!
He turned around almost by combat instinct!
Behind him, about five steps away.
A figure had, at some unknown time, already stood there quietly.
No longer that battered, blood-soaked, near-collapse appearance.
He wore a black trench coat of a high-ranking Enforcer, with the Golden Crow badge on his left chest glaringly conspicuous.
His withered aura had returned to its peak, the blood stains on his face had disappeared, and his eyes, coldly staring at him, were burning fiercely like molten gold!
In those pupils, there was no longer any fatigue, weakness, or frustration. There was only boundless anger, suppressed to the extreme and now erupting like a volcano… And beneath that anger, a bone-chilling, pure killing intent, as cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice, locked onto a single target…
Lin Mo, restored to his original appearance, stood there like a war god reborn from the flames.
His cold gaze, like two tempered blades, slashed fiercely across Yan’s pure white mask.
Then, he spoke.
His voice was not loud, but carried a chill that pierced the soul, resonating clearly in this void space: “You… where are you looking?”
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