Chapter 987: Necromancer Lord 4

His mouth was dry.

Upon realizing that the presence above his head was the Necromancer Lord transformed from Mo Ling, Lin An felt as if his head had been violently struck by a huge hammer.

His eyes turned blood-red, and an indescribable massive impact surged upon his spirit.

For Lin An, the few people around him could be said to be the last softness deep in his heart.

He never thought Mo Ling would die; he had always protected her well.

It's hard to say what feelings he actually had for Mo Ling.

But whether companion or otherwise, he momentarily found it hard to accept this fact.

How could... she die?!

He stood frozen in place.

Even the Second Will, isolated in the Thought Space, couldn't help but become somewhat solemn under the shock to his mind and spirit.

Having experienced similar pain himself, he naturally knew exactly what this feeling was like.

Even after undergoing countless simulations, he could not forget the immense pain of losing a companion under such emotions.

Rather than saying his biggest difference from Lin An is not caring about anyone's life or death, it's more accurate to say he is 'escaping'.

Each time he watched a cherished person die before his eyes, it was no less than having a red-hot iron rod shoved into his heart and twisted back and forth.

Especially when you are powerless, and even those people die because of you.

There was not a single occasion where he could protect...

Such a blow is enough to make even the strongest warrior collapse.

Rather than this, it would be better to simply give up completely from the start.

As long as one has nothing, then nothing will be lost...

('Lin An, stay calm!')

Unlike Lin An, who was trapped in self-blame and chaos, the Second Will remained rational as always.

His expression was solemn.

Looking through his main body, there were hardly any duplicate Lin Ans left on the battlefield.

That originator's Meme, like a battery, was being frantically absorbed by the Necromancer Lord high above.

With division halted, the final batch of duplicate Lin Ans was launching a final death charge.

Just as Lin An had previously been pulled into the 'Dream' state, the Necromancer Lord that Mo Ling had become was now slipping into the depths of the mind.

Devoid of reason and thought, she would kill everything she saw.

If he stayed here, waiting for the last batch of duplicates to die, the next to die... would be the true Lin An!

First, leave this place, or find a way to destroy the Meme source!

After making a quick judgment.

The Second Will decisively took over the main body, preparing to increase the distance between himself and Mo Ling.

At this moment, he had no leisure to worry whether his forcible takeover of the body would provoke Lin An's resistance.

Every second delayed, the danger would double!

Even if Mo Ling weren't infected by the Meme, merely becoming a Necromancer Lord would make her unable to resist the killing urge of the undead, no matter how much she had previously relied on Lin An.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

Above, the duplicate Lin An retaining only a human form was struck down like an ant by successive gray ripples.

After absorbing a large amount of Meme, the Necromancer Lord's strength was rising exponentially.

The conjured Twin Death Gods even directly resurrected from ghost infants.

With the double overlay, Mo Ling could be said to be infinitely close to Fourth Rank.

If it weren't for lacking intelligence, it would only know to follow instinctive attacks.

Those duplicate Lin Ans charging again were already dead beyond death.

Watching the fallen figures hit the ground, a flash of unusual color crossed the Second Will's eyes.

Such a familiar attack method...

Being thoroughly familiar with all of Lin An's attack methods, he instantly recognized the ability the Necromancer Lord had just used, which was obviously extremely similar to the Withering skill.

The only difference being that one summons a death god phantom to inflict real damage, while the other is a direct strike.

Resurrection of the Dead... Death Energy Absorption... Withering...

Under multiple overlays, the Second Will instantly seemed to realize something...

Necromancer Lord...

Death God Set?

Late at night, in the urban village of the old alley, cries of panic shattered the night's tranquility.

Flames shot into the sky, and in the courtyard of the flat-roofed house piled with debris, thick smoke rolled out.

"It's on fire!! It's on fire!"

"Hurry and put out the fire!"

Covering their mouths and noses, nearby neighbors rushed onto the lane, shouting loudly.

Inside the house where smoke seeped out, Mo Ling stood on a stool, her gaze calm as she looked at the panicked crowd, as well as her mother and sister whom she had pushed out the door.

Behind her, the corpse lying in a pool of blood sizzled as the flames burned it.

The orange-red flames, like tongues, danced wildly behind her.

Her mother, somewhere in the distant crowd, numbly and at a loss, held her sister.

Her tears had already dried up.

She didn't dare to look at Mo Ling, only knowing to clutch tightly the little daughter in her arms.

She had little education and little experience.

At the moment Mo Ling personally killed her nominal husband, the blood‑stained little knife that fell to the ground... was like a grinning monster, tearing apart her remaining sanity.

Panicked and helpless, like a sheep frozen on the ground when chased by a wild beast.

The hardships of life had already bent her spine; lacking education, she could only think like an ordinary woman that silent endurance would keep this fragile household going.

But obviously, what she considered home was merely a self‑hypnotic fantasy.

And now, Mo Ling shattered her pitiful fantasy.

Therefore, after coming out of the kitchen.

She didn't know how to handle it, nor how to face all of this.

Even upon seeing those small hands stained with blood, a nameless fear rose in her heart.

Her own daughter had killed someone.

For a woman like her, a humble and timid wife, everything felt as if the sky had collapsed.

In her poisoned, pitiful thinking, resistance ought not to exist.

Just endure, endure and it'll be fine!

Especially when Mo Ling merely calmly set the sofa on fire, she could only stand there like a dazed puppet, being shoved out directly.

"Sis... sis! Older sister!"

"Save my sis... sis!!"

Amid the noisy crowd discussing, childish cries rang out.

Held in the embrace, Mo Yu struggled, waving her arms, bursting into tears.

She also didn't know what had happened; she only knew that her older sister seemed to have done something terribly frightening to protect her.

Yet, amid her sobs, the crowd that ran out to watch merely stopped outside the courtyard.

Compared to the sister said to be 'trapped' in Mo Yu's mouth, they were more concerned about whether their own houses would be burned.

This is the worst and most chaotic urban‑rural fringe.

The haphazardly strung wires and piled‑up trash, once ignited, were enough to make everyone retreat three steps.

Put out the fire? Save people?

Sorry, in many cases no one will sacrifice themselves for another's life.

Of course, this isn't really wrong either.

Inside the house devoured by flames.

Mo Ling silently listened to her sister's cries, unmoved.

The flames behind her kept raising the indoor temperature, and the rolling thick smoke penetrated her lungs like a deadly poison.

In a daze, she seemed to smell the scorched odor of her burning hair.

So smelly...

Her mouth was dry, her tongue parched, and moisture rapidly drained away.

Waves of piercing pain came from her back.

But faced with the agony of being burned alive, Mo Ling's calm eyes merely flickered with a hint of regret and a faint sense of relief.

From childhood, with a poor family, her father dead and mother remarried, the pressure that shouldn't have weighed on her felt like a thousand‑jin burden on her shoulders.

No one loved her, no one cared for her.

The children at school thought she was a freak, and some adults always looked at her with greedy eyes.

A poor, unprotected little girl will always suffer many malicious stares.

And as her nominal mother, that woman gave her no warmth.

With no one to confide in, the mother merely kept dumping her worries and pains onto her like trash, speaking them into her ears.

（Mo Ling... Mom is so tired... you must listen, you must be sensible, you must be good... ）

（Don't strive, don't grab... a woman can't survive on her own... ）

（Endure... endure again... they will pity us... ）

The mother's summed‑up 'precious experience' was like her life creed; amid endless earnest admonitions, she tried to instill it into her mind, hoping to turn her into another person.

After all, in the mother's eyes, that's how she had lived.

Actually, there's not much to blame.

As her mother, this woman worn down by life was merely a pitiful soul who dared not resist oppression and hardship.

"Pop‑pop"

Old‑fashioned furniture crackled in the flames.

As flames licked her body and she gradually lost consciousness, Mo Ling finally glanced at her sister in the distance.

To live is really boring.

Death would be fine too.