Chapter 95

A desert stretched everywhere, sand everywhere, the air above the ground warped by searing heat. A single star in the sky blazed intensely, enormous as a furnace, scorching this world.

Deep within the desert, several figures wore long black robes from head to toe, standing atop sand hot enough to cook flesh, as if utterly unaware of the raging flames.

Before them stood a circular altar composed of dark bluish stone, covered in intricate patterns. At its center, a mass of energy seeped into the patterns, glowing a blood-red hue.

Above the altar, a projection identical to the dark bluish altar below hovered, slowly taking shape.

“Lord Argos,” Veed forced back his excitement and addressed the figure at the front of the group: “Will these sixty-seven million human life sources satisfy the Master?”

Argos’s voice, hoarse and cold, replied: “These life sources are but a single blade of grass in the Master’s countless pastures. What do you expect?”

Veed’s eyes flickered with disappointment, but he quickly masked it.

“I will continue offering the Master more life sources, hoping for even a sliver of His mercy…” he murmured.

Argos shifted slightly, glancing back at him. “If you do enough, the Master will know. The Master permits those willing to submit to dwell in His pastures, to continue living and multiplying. Earth will remain humanity’s—perhaps even yours…”

Veed trembled, his voice shaking uncontrollably: “Yes, Lord Argos. I will do my utmost…”

“Enough,” Argos waved his hand calmly, cutting off his devotion. “Go to Earth. Begin the next plan. You are no longer needed here…”

Veed bowed deeply, then his figure slowly vanished into the air…

After a moment, Argos gestured to his subordinate. “Go to the Blood Moon Lands. Extract the soul of that human. Find out what happened that day—why did something call out the Master’s name?”

The subordinate’s figure vanished. He muttered: “Veed said that human was the Master’s favorite… If she survives this, perhaps I’ll believe she truly has something special…”

Waves of heat assaulted the air; the planet’s surface was almost entirely desert, an endless expanse of monotonous yellow that induced visual fatigue with prolonged viewing.

The altar’s projection glowed blood-red; its outline connected to the final segment, awaiting full activation—to absorb all life on the British Isles.

“Looking for me?” A cold voice spoke.

A fissure split the air as if a door had opened suddenly. The very target Argos had just dispatched stepped calmly out from within.

Yang Yi appeared before him. Argos was startled. “Who are you? How do you know this location’s coordinates…?”

“Yang Yi”’s expression was cold, as if unworthy of further words. She flicked her hand lightly—the entire scene froze. The black-robed figures were locked in place, their expressions of shock preserved mid-motion.

Yang Yi clearly saw this. Though she could not control the body, sharing the same vessel meant His actions nearly synced with her consciousness.

Using this body’s mental force, she herself struggled to activate the “Absolute Domain.” Yet He wielded it effortlessly, without the slightest hesitation.

Yang Yi was slightly stunned, yet deep inside, it felt perfectly natural.

Suddenly, a wisp of black smoke shot out from beneath Argos’s robe like lightning. A ripple disturbed the space nearby, then a crack split open. The smoke surged toward the rift without hesitation.

“Yang Yi” sneered, reached out, and snatched the black smoke into her palm.

“You… who are you?” This time, Argos no longer spoke Earth’s tongue, but emitted a subsonic communication.

“Yang Yi” seemed too lazy to answer. Her form twisted violently. The frozen black-robed figures rapidly withered into desiccated husks. Several powerful streams of life source tore free from them and flowed into Yang Yi.

Yang Yi felt her inner power surge—like a long-dry reservoir suddenly flooded by monsoon rains, its level rising sharply.

The black smoke writhed violently, trembling with what seemed like both ecstatic excitement and boundless terror. Its transmitted vibrations grew unstable, emitting a shrill, hissing static:

“Master! Supreme Master! I am Your faithful believer, Argos… I search the cosmos for life sources, preparing for Your awakening… No! No! You are not the Master!”

“Yang Yi” grew impatient. She clenched her palm. Life source poured relentlessly from Argos.

Argos’s smoke-like body boiled like scalding water, flickering with explosive white light within—terrified beyond measure. Before his life source was fully drained, he screamed in an ear-splitting shriek:

“You are a fragment of the Master! You’ve developed self-awareness…” His words cut off as the black smoke dissolved instantly. A thick stream of life source flowed into Yang Yi.

Yang Yi felt the surge of energy again—but now she could think of nothing else. Argos’s words had stunned her.

A fragment of the Master? Developed self-awareness?

No wonder every intelligent alien she’d encountered treated her as a demon god. No wonder He forbade them from uttering the demon god’s full name. No wonder He feared her revealing her true form and drawing the demon god’s gaze—now it all made sense. Of course.

Yang Yi understood.

Any being that developed self-awareness, that possessed a “self,” was an independent individual—a distinct life with its own desires, its own thoughts. Any attempt to destroy, reclaim, or merge that “self” was murder.

Just like the other personality inside her—she had desperately tried to make it vanish, which was, in truth, trying to kill it. Hence, it constantly wished for her death.

Then came another truth that made her soul tremble with exhilaration: she was a person! Not some damned demon god! The four thousand people in Mist Town did not die because of her! The countless souls Veed sacrificed, the ninety thousand spectators at Wembley Stadium—they did not die because of her!

It was not an offering to her! She was not the hidden mastermind! She was not the murderer behind all these deaths!

The arrival of dark matter was not her will. The proliferation of alien creatures was not under her command. Humanity’s catastrophe was not her decree.

This truth lifted the heavy shadow that had weighed on her heart for so long. Countless sleepless nights—each time she thought of the lives she carried on her conscience, each time she feared she was the cause of these living people’s deaths—she had lain awake, tormented.

Wasn’t her hard work an attempt at silent atonement? Wasn’t her relentless killing of alien creatures meant to ease her conscience?

She was never a hero. Never a fanatic believer in ideals. Never a practitioner of doctrines. Never a demon god who saw human lives as sacrifices. She was simply—ordinary. A person.

But another question arose: why was this fragment of the demon god inside her?