Chapter 452: Blood Son and Blood Father

Kharn couldn't remember what Cawl had done.

He only remembered that many terrifying machines extended from under Cawl's robes, beginning to tear his body, separate his flesh, and cut his organs.

It was very painful; it was the pain of flesh being torn, genes being shaped, and the body being reshaped.

But Kharn accepted all this silently; he was already accustomed to pain.

Even now, he was immersed in boundless pain.

Raum and Zhou Yun helped him suppress the anger brought by the Butcher's Nails, allowing Kharn to maintain a certain degree of rationality, but the pain brought by the Butcher's Nails could not be eliminated.

Or rather, Kharn was unwilling to eliminate this pain; he was willing to let this pain torture his soul, torture his everything.

This was the punishment Kharn imposed on himself, the pain he chose himself.

It was also the way Kharn got closer to him, tried to understand him, and tried to approach him.

"Father," Kharn whispered.

Hot red gravel hit Kharn's face; the sky was scarlet and wide, the earth was orange and boundless, and the distant mountains and gullies were hideous, outlining the edge of the savage world.

A gale blew, rolling in the sound of weapons clashing and battlefield wailing, making people feel terrified, as if the gale washed away everything superfluous in this world, leaving only the bloody earth, drowning everyone who tried to resist.

But Kharn had long been accustomed to all this; he had created countless terrifying slaughters in his life, and the world before him could not scare him.

But this world suddenly pulled Kharn's heartstrings, as if summoning Kharn's soul to a non-existent hometown.

He faintly felt that his head didn't seem to be so painful.

Kharn was confused; he didn't know why he would be here.

In his memory, he should have been on the operating table of the Great Magos Belisarius Cawl.

But he unexpectedly felt that he should be here; this should be his destination.

He should return his soul here; this could have been his homeland, Kharn inexplicably had such a feeling.

Then, Kharn heard cheers.

That was the cheer of liberation; slaves poured out of the arena, using rocks from the mountains to smash their shackles.

They gained freedom, breathing the air of the world fanatically, as if for this moment of freedom, they could pay anything.

They sang, they gathered, they praised resistance, liberation, and freedom.

Gladiators polished the sharp blades in their hands; this time they didn't have to wield their swords to please the audience; they had to wield their swords for themselves.

The legless dancer laughed and jumped onto the table, dancing on the table with her prosthetic limb without any rules, not for her master, only for her brothers.

Yes, brothers, brothers without blood ties, brothers of freedom, brothers of resistance, brothers of liberation.

They were not connected by blood; they were connected by resistance.

This singing, this laughter poured into Kharn's mind, making Kharn unable to help but shed tears.

These emotions were so exuberant and bright that the Butcher's Nails that the slave owners had driven into his marrow were not so painful...

Slave owners? What slave owners? Kharn's expression was in a trance.

He couldn't remember clearly. His brain was so messy.

He only remembered that the slave owners had besieged them seven times, slaughtered them seven times, trapped them seven times, but failed to eliminate them seven times.

The slave owners' brutal attacks did not crush them; not a single liberated slave betrayed him... not because they were servile to him, but because they were his own brothers and sisters.

Either be a free man, or die as a free man.

Every brother and sister said so.

They did not bow to anyone, and they did not need anyone to bow to them.

They were free men, free men of fate.

But he also felt incomparably painful.

The Butcher's Nails buzzed, urging him to kill everything before him, depriving him of the ability to think normally.

He overcame this impulse with incomparable pain.

What made him even more painful was that the rationality that occasionally emerged made him understand that if he still had a normal brain, he would definitely be able to lead his brothers and sisters to truly defeat this group of slave owners.

But he no longer had it; his brain, full of madness, anger, and bitterness, could do nothing.

In fact, if it weren't for the bright, exuberant, full-of-resistance-will, and full-of-care-for-him emotions of his brothers and sisters still nourishing his soul and guarding his will, he would have gone crazy long ago.

This was his innate ability, to empathize with others, to resonate with others' emotions.

Once he used this ability to protect his brothers and sisters, now his brothers and sisters used this to protect him.

It was the brothers and sisters who tightly surrounded him who protected him, not letting anger and madness kill him, not letting him go completely crazy.

But the brothers and sisters were dying.

Perhaps fate wanted to destroy them; a rare cold wave swallowed the mountains where they lived, no food could grow in the ground, and the beasts disappeared without a trace.

He cut off his own flesh and blood to share with his brothers and sisters, but this was ultimately a drop in the bucket; more and more brothers were swallowed by hunger and cold, and the Butcher's Nails on his head became more and more painful.

The slave owners took advantage of the situation and forced them into the valley, forcing them to face death.

But his brothers and sisters laughed; they sang songs of triumph, welcoming this final battle.

Either be a free man, or die as a free man.

Yes, that's it.

The free brothers and sisters who loved him fought side by side with him.

Until he was taken away, from the killing field, from the final moment, from his brothers and sisters.

His father, the man who claimed to be his father and the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang, took him away.

He didn't actually hear what the man said.

His soul still remained in that valley, among his brothers and sisters.

He and them were connected by emotion; this was his innate ability, the ability his father gave him.

Every one, on the void ship, he could still clearly perceive the emotions of every brother and sister, perceive their existence.

He could also perceive them extinguishing one by one, dying in near-torturous slaughter.

He could clearly perceive the emotions of every one of them before they died, could feel the cruel torture they suffered, could feel those naked pains.

Until the last brother and sister died under the butcher's knife of the slave owner.

Until those caring and bright emotions that supported and protected his soul were all extinguished.

Until he sensed that not a single brother or sister hated him for fleeing before death.

They blessed him with incomparable earnest love and care, hoping that his father could remove the Butcher's Nails for him.

Then, he went crazy, completely crazy.

The Butcher's Nails had long since ravaged his soul and will into a mess.

It was by relying on his talent to perceive others' emotions, relying on the bright emotions of his brothers and sisters, that he barely maintained his rationality until now.

Now, all of this was gone.

He raised his head in a daze and pain, looking at the golden man before him who claimed to be his father.

He sensed the man's emotions.

That was a cold, dead, destructive black sun.

So he went crazy, completely crazy, letting anger devour everything about him.

He became a slave again.

Kharn panted, feeling his soul shake, only feeling that the scene he had just seen was so... so heart-pounding.

He faintly realized what he had seen, but couldn't understand why he would see it.

Kharn was in a trance, suddenly noticing that he was standing in a valley, where many tombstones stood, clearly a cemetery.

He subconsciously observed his surroundings, but saw that not far from him, there was a tall man with bronze-colored skin, wearing gladiator clothes, with shackles wrapped around his arms and legs.

The man knelt gently on one knee before a tombstone, using his wide palm to wipe the dust off the tombstone.

He sensed Kharn's gaze, raised his head to look at Kharn, and revealed a simple and honest smile at Kharn.

Kharn immediately felt the anger and pain in his emotions flow toward him.

"Who are you?" Kharn asked a question he already knew the answer to, blurting it out.

"Who am I? You saw it, I am a loser."

The man said gently:

"I am destined to be a slave, first a slave of the slave owners, then of the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang, and finally of the evil gods."

"But essentially, I am a slave of fate, a slave of my own essence."

"Only at this moment do I understand what I am; I am the primitive, orderless, thoughtless impulse for freedom, the wildest resistance in the hearts of the most oppressed slaves."

"This is an incomparably intense emotion, an emotion that can resonate with countless oppressed people."

"But such freedom, longing, and resistance of mine will not have results; it is too primitive, too impulsive, without thinking, without order, only knowing how to destroy and not how to build, ultimately only leading to failure."

"And after failure, this emotion will degenerate into meaningless anger, which is me."

"No matter what, I cannot resist my own essence; I am destined to only deserve anger and degeneration."

Kharn was dizzy and trembling all over.

"But why are you here?" Kharn asked tremblingly.

"I can certainly be here; your gene sequence comes from me."

"You are my child—although I have never fulfilled the responsibility of a father—but the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang, the connection he built still connects us."

"I am still wandering in this world for a while; this is the only place of peace left in my soul, and the connection between you and me may have made you enter by mistake."

The man smiled simply and honestly, revealing an expression that Kharn knew he could never reveal.

"But, but how can you be like this, you..." Kharn was so confused he couldn't speak.

The man frowned slightly; he didn't seem to understand what Kharn was saying either.

"Kharn, didn't you..." The man's words stopped abruptly; he seemed to have suddenly understood something.

Then, the man drew a ferocious chainaxe from his waist.

That was the Blood Father, a chainaxe paired with the Blood Drinker in Kharn's hand.

"Kharn, are you ready?" A smile appeared on the man's mouth.

Before Kharn could speak, the Blood Father slashed fiercely toward Kharn.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 453 =====