Chapter 984: Necromancer Lord 1

That is

Even though he was several kilometers away, Zhang Tie, standing still, could still feel a boundless deathly aura spreading wildly.

It was as if, with Mo Ling's 'death,' some terrifying entity trapped within that body burst forth.

The black shadow grew larger and larger.

In just a few seconds, hundreds of high-speed moving Lin An fell into the mire at the same time, mindlessly beginning to howl and struggle.

Strands of black thread were pulled down from the heavy Wu Yun, gradually condensing into a huge silhouette.

Facing away from the rising darkness.

In Zhang Tie's eyes, that wisp, full of deathly stillness, like a shadow crawling out of hell, slowly rose to its feet.

One meter, two meters, five meters... ten meters...

Expanding, spreading.

In just a few seconds, the night sky began to boil.

Strange, low whispers began to echo, like the ancient incantations of the Yu Zong Shi Qi.

Only to see, as the black shadow gradually condensed, the power from Mo Ling's body gradually climbed to over forty meters.

A huge shadow was cast upon the land.

More terrifying than the Aberrant Mutant, the Necromancer Lord was born.

Consciousness froze at the final moment.

Unlike the imagined consciousness returning to nothing.

Under the influence of the Meme, Mo Ling, who should have died completely and had his consciousness occupied, felt the world before him freeze instantly.

A strange force drilled into the consciousness space, like a revolving lantern, continually picking out memory fragments.

In an instant, emotions were stripped away, consciousness was stripped away.

Except for the deepest desire deep within the heart, all memories seemed to be cut away by a huge scissors from thought.

Like a broken machine, Mo Ling stared blankly with wide eyes, as one image after another swept across his consciousness.

That was, like when Lin An initially faced it, the most extreme 'dream' deep in the soul.

"Hey, have you heard?"

"Our class's Mo Ling is just a freak."

"I heard that when she went to school, she always carried a small knife, scaring people to death..."

They whispered to each other.

After class, several girls gathered together, chattering, their tone mocking as they discussed the girl in the farthest corner.

Although they were only in middle school, girls at this age already understood a lot.

Perhaps out of jealousy, perhaps out of resentment, perhaps out of banding together.

Girls gathered in twos and threes, exaggeratingly recounting the rumors.

And in the back row.

The girl they were discussing sat alone in the corner, her jet-black, eyebrow-length hair hanging by her ears.

Her body was ramrod straight, like a statue.

The girl's complexion was pallid, her frail frame looking somewhat sickly.

On her delicate little face, not a trace of color could be seen.

She lowered her head, as if shutting out the world.

Even if someone deliberately exaggeratedly said her name, she seemed not to have heard, merely sitting there silently.

In the hallway, several boys in uniforms roughhoused, the leader's gaze continually flickering toward the silhouette in the back row.

"Let's make a bet!"

"Whoever can snatch her belongings gets to treat everyone to drinks!"

"Wow, aren't you afraid she'll stab you?!"

"I heard she once slashed an adult with a knife!"

The passing homeroom teacher glanced sideways at the boys scheming a bad idea, then walked past quickly.

By rights, she should have stopped this incident, which was no less than school bullying.

But looking at that little girl sitting alone in the corner, she merely furrowed her brows, saying nothing more.

She also didn't like that girl.

That's right.

What these kids said is correct; that girl really is a freak.

She usually dislikes communicating with people, always stays alone in her seat, and never participates in class activities.

Even at parent-teacher meetings, that girl seemed to have been picked up at random, with no one coming to attend.

As a teacher, she ought to have cared for that girl.

But...

For some reason, every time she called the girl to the office for a talk, the girl was like a log, forever looking at her with that wary expression.

After a while, she also got too bothered to deal with it.

Especially Mo Ling's ever-vigilant posture made it truly hard to approach.

Don't know good from bad!

Nobody likes putting on a warm face to a cold backside, especially this girl, who really looks like she has mental issues.

She walked past quickly.

The students, having plotted how to tease the girl, walked toward the back row, chuckling.

On the bus.

A middle-aged man with a briefcase, glasses perched on his nose, looked refined and genteel.

The bus was crowded, and the shaking vehicle felt like a boat at sea.

Looking at the girl huddled ahead with her head down, he couldn't help but flash a hint of desire in his eyes.

Fresh, tender, and tempting.

The immature girl's slender, white legs beneath her school uniform had a tempting feeling.

Pale skin exuded a sickly beauty.

Like an unripe snake fruit, it made one want to pluck it early.

It must be very smooth, very tender...

Taking advantage of the bus's sway, the bespectacled man deliberately or inadvertently leaned his body a little closer to Mo Ling.

Dry heat, unbearable.

He was all too familiar with this trick.

For students like these, even if they noticed something, with their thin skins they dared not speak up, only silently enduring.

He swallowed dryly.

In his fantasy, he almost felt the pleasure of that soft skin pressing close.

That faint fragrance was like the fruit of Eden, almost bewitching him.

Closer, even closer.

Leaning in on purpose, he resembled a shrimp curling its abdomen.

The girl remained motionless.

On her pitifully lovely face, it seemed written with grievance and helplessness.

He was very satisfied.

Gazing at that delicate profile, for a moment he felt a thrill of forbidden bullying rising in his heart.

Lowering his arm slowly, under the bewitching desire, he couldn't help but want to do more.

Just then, the next second.

The girl who had been imagined as silently enduring humiliation suddenly turned and gave him a cold stare.

Tap

A wave of cold swept his lower abdomen.

All he saw was the young-looking girl, her slender hand holding a small knife pointed straight at his abdomen.

"Mo Yu, come over."

"Let Daddy see you, have you grown taller lately?"

In the dilapidated shack, a middle-aged man in a stained yellow vest lay lecherously on the sofa, right hand gripping a wine bottle.

Before him, a trembling little girl kept her head down, motionless like a frightened chick.

"Don't be scared~ come, let Daddy see if my good girl has grown up."

He gulped, then roughly pulled his daughter into his embrace, his rough fingers constantly rubbing her tender cheeks.

In the kitchen, the apron-clad woman heard the sickening 'intimacy' from outside the living room, merely shivered, then went on cooking as if nothing had happened.

Her thin arms were covered in bruises.

It's just a touch, nothing... nothing...

This family must not fall apart.

Like self-hypnosis, the woman stiffly chopped vegetables.

The sound of the knife chopping on the cutting board seemed able to drown out the man's panting.

In another room.

In the dim room, Mo Ling slumped over the desk, head bowed.

The small hand that should have held a pencil now gripped the knife hilt tightly.

"Daddy... don't..."

"Don't do this..."

Childish sobs came intermittently from outside, mingled with the chopping sounds on the cutting board.

Consciousness and body separated.

Unlike the suppressed feeling far away, several miles out.

At the battlefield's center, Mo Ling, embodied as the Necromancer Lord, seemed stretched, shrouded in a vast cloak of deathly aura, her once petite face now unnaturally mature and bewitching.

Under the influence of the Meme, no one knows what the little girl resurrected as the Necromancer Lord has become.

Her blood-red eyes gleamed like bright lanterns, hidden beneath the cloak.

"Ho..."

Death Breath

Mo Ling, resurrected as the Necromancer Lord, tilted her head slightly; her scarlet eyes held no emotion.

In an instant.

As the boiling ended, Lin An's army in midair seemed to sense some great danger.

Likewise, Lin An, mechanical as ever, suddenly struck out at the huge shadow.

From afar, it looked like countless black dots lunging toward the Abyss.

Sword light flashed.

One after another, destructive slashes struck the Necromancer Lord's body.

However, it seemed as if being suppressed.

The death lord overlooking everything indifferently extended a blurry giant hand, like swatting a mosquito, and instantly slapped it away.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

It was utterly destructive.

A terrifying pure power directly crushed and exploded several nearby three Fourth Rank Lin An.

The power from the source of death surged out madly, like an infusion.

There was no dialogue, no conversation.

As hundreds of Lin An moved, the Aberrant Mutants previously entwined also seemed to reach some kind of consensus.

Two white afterimages each shot toward the darkness.