Chapter 292: Despair Realm

The moment the spatial conduit closed, the world was overturned.

The earthy fragrance and mortal incense that lingered at the tip of the nose a second ago were instantly overwhelmed by a thick, unbreakable stench.

That smell was like billions of corpses rotting for ten million years in a sealed coffin, mixed with sulfur and the char of souls burned, each breath scraping the lungs and pouring the concept of death into every limb.

Wang Zhize and Wang Zhitao's silhouettes appeared on a gray‑white desolate plain.

Underfoot was not soil, but ash.

Delicate and cold, a single step would raise a weightless dust, the final trace left by countless beings after they burned out.

The sky was a solid violet‑black, like a massive bruise.

A black sun hung in the heavens; it emitted no light, no heat, yet its mere existence radiated a toxin called "Despair" to every corner of this world.

The laws here are broken, erroneous, twisted with malice.

An invisible great force in the air greedily siphoned the vitality and energy of any outsider.

"Brother..."

In Wang Zhitao's voice there was no fear, only an uncontainable excitement; his Adam's apple rolled like a beast starved for three days finally catching the scent of blood.

His Devouring Primordial Body cheered and roared, instinctively yearning to devour all the world's negative energy and the very concept of death!

Wang Zhize gave no reply.

He simply stood calmly, letting the malice that could wither ordinary deities wash over him.

His perception pierced the chaotic façade, touching a strand of will hidden deep within the twisted laws, colder and more superior.

It was the mark left by the Void Walker, the underlying logic of this Void Net.

"Interesting."

He lifted his gaze, giving the black sun a casual glance.

The next moment.

Centered on him, within a hundred‑meter radius, the world changed.

【Definition: In this square inch of space, the laws are ordered, all principles are correct.】

There was no earth‑shaking fanfare, only an absolute, unchallengeable will descending.

As if the Creator were merely editing the draft of his work.

The previously chaotic, twisted light was instantly straightened; the life‑draining malice was completely cut off by an invisible barrier; the nauseating stench in the air vanished entirely.

An absolutely safe, absolutely stable "Domain" materialized out of thin air within this desperate hell.

Wang Zhitao hopped excitedly twice, feeling the stark contrast inside and outside the domain, and chuckled, "Brother, this place is still comfortable for you."

At that moment, something writhed on the distant ash horizon.

They rose.

They were a horde of monsters that could not be described as "creatures."

Rotting flesh haphazardly stitched onto broken skeletons; some bore three legs, others sprouted a flower of intestines on their heads. They had no eyes, no mouths, yet could precisely "see" Wang Zhize's sector, the sole oasis of vitality.

They were Void Walker Corpses, failed remnants assimilated by this world, left with only pure hatred of life.

No roar, no howl.

In the dead silence, the tide‑like Void Walker Corpses marched with twisted strides, rushing forward silently.

The scene made one's scalp prickle more than any thousand‑horse charge.

"Brother, I'm going!"

Wang Zhitao could wait no longer; he licked his lips, and black‑gold light erupted from his eyes.

His whole being became like a fired cannonball, thrusting toward the malformed wave of death!

Boom!

He used no flashy techniques.

The instant he touched the corpses, Wang Zhitao's body transformed into a high‑speed rotating black‑gold vortex!

A terrifying devouring force erupted, like a spontaneously formed black hole.

Dozens of Void Walker Corpses at the front line, without even a chance to struggle, were instantly pulled into the vortex; their bodies, formed of twisted laws, were disintegrated and torn the moment they touched the vortex, turning into pure void primal energy that Wang Zhitao gulped down.

"Burp..."

A loud belch echoed across the dead plain.

Wang Zhitao's figure reappeared; he patted his belly contentedly, his aura more condensed than before, and the simulated Void Walker scent on him grew even more authentic.

Wang Zhize's gaze fell on the cleared area.

At the moment Wang Zhitao devoured, he captured the last lingering memory fragments of those corpses before they vanished.

Chaos, fragmentation, filled with pain and despair.

Yet Wang Zhize's will was so strong that he forced a selection of repeatedly recurring keywords from this sea of garbage information.

"Despair Altar..."

"Soul Harvester..."

A faint smile curled his lips.

The Altar is an energy‑gathering node set up by the Void Walker in this shattered realm, specifically harvesting the purest Despair power generated by beings from various worlds deposited here.

The Soul Harvester, meanwhile, is a low‑rank overseer tasked with guarding the Altar.

A foreman on this production line.

"Zhitao, don't eat too fast; mimic their aura and follow me."

Wang Zhize issued the command.

With a flick of his finger, an almost imperceptible law‑thread coiled around Wang Zhitao, silently channeling the surrounding dense chaotic void energy into his body like streams, accelerating his camouflage and digestion.

The two no longer lingered, advancing toward the direction indicated by the memory fragments, delving deeper into this Despair Realm.

The deeper they go, the more intense the malice emitted by the black sun becomes.

Even intangible, sharp mental shrieks began to directly assault Wang Zhize's sea of consciousness, attempting to corrupt Wang Zhize's will and turn Wang Zhize into a part of this world.

It was a kind of mental contamination originating from a higher dimension, filled with all sorts of "logical errors," intended to completely format Wang Zhize's thoughts.

Wang Zhize's steps did not pause in the slightest.

Wang Zhize was even too lazy to defend.

【My definition: you noisy ones are all illusory.】

A cold snort sounded in Wang Zhize's sea of consciousness.

That billions of mental contaminations capable of driving deities mad, like ice and snow under the sun, instantly dissipated, leaving not a single trace.

Before the absolute authority of the "Creator Lord," these petty tricks didn't even merit a single frown from him.

It was unknown how long they had walked.

They arrived at a massive valley constructed from countless shattered world remnants.

In the valley's center stood an unimaginable structure.

An Altar.

A blood‑red Altar towering ten thousand zhang, entirely built from the bones of living beings and solidified soul fragments!

Countless faces of suffering were etched onto every inch of the Altar's surface, silently wailing.

Despair and resentment, so thick they became tangible, flowed like a blood‑red waterfall from the Altar's summit down into the earth.

And at the top of that Altar, a vague, twisted, massive figure radiating a terrifying aura was perched.

It seemed to have sensed the arrival of two uninvited guests.

The vague figure slowly raised its "head."

The next second.

A roar capable of piercing the soul and tearing the heavens rang through the entire valley!

Boom—!

The Altar's despair energy boiled instantly!