Chapter 37: A Single Word, Heaven and Earth Altered, Cosmos Shook

President Yamazaki clutched his chest, watching Mizuno Yuichi’s body torn apart, listening as the head demon chewed, saying, “So delicious, so delicious…”

He was so terrified his senses reeled; he pressed hard against his chest, trying to stifle the violent pounding of his heart.

A sensation of oxygen deprivation filled his mind; he couldn’t breathe.

At that moment.

He suddenly noticed Sakurada Fumiyuki was gone.

“Aaaah!!” Sakurada Fumiyuki screamed—his cry came fast and vanished just as quickly.

President Yamazaki snapped his head up.

His face turned ashen.

At that moment, Sakurada Fumiyuki was far more horrific than Mizuno Yuichi.

He was dragged into the air by seven or eight demon creatures with crow heads and human bodies, each gripping his head or limbs and pulling him in different directions.

Ssschhh!

Sakurada Fumiyuki’s scream cut off abruptly.

His body was torn apart like a five-horse dismemberment—limbs, head, torso ripped open, devoured by the crow demons; organs and entrails were frantically snatched; flesh, blood, and shredded organs rained down like snow.

Seeing this, President Yamazaki felt his breath choke and his heart seize with unbearable pain.

Then, immediately.

President Yamazaki’s breath froze; his body jolted, eyes rolled back, saliva dribbled from his mouth, and he collapsed flat on the ground, motionless.

His pulse was gone.

He had been scared to death.

Yamazaki’s death filled the others with a sense of shared sorrow—and even envy.

For them, being scared to death was an unimaginably blessed way to die.

At least they wouldn’t have to endure the agony of being torn apart, watching demons dig into their intestines and rip out their flesh.

At the same moment.

The Ōnyūdō reached out, pinching Sakurada’s left leg between thumb and forefinger, lifting his entire body.

“Dead? Too bad—but good he didn’t die long ago. Still warm.”

Saying this, the Ōnyūdō opened his gargantuan mouth—larger than a swimming pool—and tossed Yamazaki inside.

This time, he ate slowly, savoring each bite.

He felt he’d devoured the executives too quickly before, missing the flavor; now he would truly taste it.

The street before Sakuragawa Zhushihuishe had become a living hell.

Blood splattered everywhere across the pavement.

Walls were painted with blood and smeared with bloody handprints.

Corpses and body parts littered the ground.

Every dead body was torn apart—no one remained whole; it was impossible to tell which limbs or chunks of flesh belonged to whom.

The scene resembled the Eighteen Levels of Hell.

Unimaginably horrific!

…

Tokyo, Japan, Metropolitan Police Department.

“Puke!!”

All government officials vomited; even senior police officers vomited several times.

Unlike the government officials, the police had handled bloody cases before, yet they still vomited.

Compared to the bloodshed in Yunhu, they felt their past cases were child’s play—barely even bloody.

“Sakurada Fumiyuki probably never imagined he’d die so horribly in his old age.”

The senior police officer who had recognized Sakurada Fumiyuki had just vomited; he wiped his mouth with a tissue and sighed.

No sooner had he spoken than he recalled Sakurada’s gruesome death—his stomach churned violently; he snatched the trash bin from a drunken official who was vomiting and hurled himself over it, spewing uncontrollably—this time even bile came up.

“Director Takahashi, Sakurada and his men are dead, but I think we should investigate—there may be clues to how they opened the demon world’s gate.”

The drunken official suggested.

His face was deathly pale—not from intoxication. He’d been terrified into sobriety; now he was clearer-headed than anyone else.

“Hmm.” Director Takahashi, ashen-faced, nodded weakly.

To maintain his authority, he was forcing himself not to vomit.

Arakawa Ward.

The livestreamer wiped the vomit from his lips, looked up at Yunhu, his eyes filled with terror and dread.

“In ancient times, did the human and demon worlds truly intersect?”

Through comments from top viewers in his livestream, he’d come to accept demons were real.

At first, he’d been thrilled—demons actually existed! But after watching Sakuragawa’s members torn apart and devoured alive, his thrill vanished, replaced only by icy fear and deep confusion.

“What did ancient humans use to fight demons?”

In Yunhu’s scene, Mizuno Yuichi and the others were strong—some trained in combat and swordsmanship—but they offered zero resistance against the demons.

Impossible to imagine.

How did ancient humans survive? How did they eliminate demons?

Were they yin-yang masters?

If demons exist, then yin-yang masters must exist too.

Or did gods help them?

The livestreamer was about to ponder further when his peripheral vision caught something—he froze, scalp prickling with terror, face drained of all color.

“This…”

In Yunhu’s scene, all thirty-some Sakuragawa members had vanished; only piles of bloody remains remained on the ground.

The livestreamer’s liver trembled.

He’d looked away for less than thirty seconds—and the demons had devoured every last Sakuragawa member.

He quickly scanned the scene in Yunhu.

The sight turned his blood cold.

Of thirty-seven people, only three remained alive.

One was the youngest Sakuragawa thug, and the two innocent girls the group had kidnapped.

Meanwhile.

In the convenience store, Kamikawa Mitsu slightly lifted his head, gazing into the distance.

“It’s about time.”

He murmured, then spoke.

“System, consume script points…”

On the other side.

Watching everyone devoured by demons,

the two innocent girls clung to each other, screaming with the piercing shriek only girls can produce, faces pale, lips white and bloodless.

The thug fared worse than the girls—he didn’t die from fear, but lost control of his bowels and bladder.

Seeing everyone dead, only the three of them left, the demons turned toward them.

They trembled, weeping uncontrollably.

“Please don’t come near, don’t come near!”

“Someone, anyone, save us!”

“Don’t eat us, please don’t eat us!”

Whether watching the livestream or standing in Arakawa, everyone instinctively turned away, unable to bear what came next.

Sakuragawa were yakuza—dead, they deserved it; some even felt relief.

But these two girls had been forcibly taken by Sakuragawa—they were clearly innocent.

No one could bear to watch innocent girls torn apart and devoured by demons.

【Someone save these poor girls】

【Sigh, they’re doomed】

【Damn it, I want to save them but I’m powerless】

【If demons exist, then gods or yin-yang masters must too—please, Amaterasu, save them!】

【Please, Amaterasu, save them!】

【Come on, a yin-yang master! Hurry, save them!】

In every livestream, though some viewers still cheered on the chaos, the vast majority felt the girls’ impending fate deeply, filled with pity.

The girls’ cries brought no mercy from the demons.

On the contrary.

Demons who had been feasting on Sakuragawa’s corpses turned toward them, grinning.

Their smiles dripped with blood; teeth clung with shredded flesh—horrifying beyond words, enough to scatter the soul and shatter the spirit.

The Ōnyūdō reached out toward the two girls, his eyes holding not a trace of mercy.

Simultaneously.

Skull demons, crow demons, and other demons charged toward the Sakura Field Group’s underlings.

They were coming to feast on the final meal of this gluttonous banquet.

As the girl and the underlings were about to be devoured alive, many were about to shut their eyes, unable to bear the horror to come.

Suddenly!

A soft whisper, as if rising from the deepest abyss of the Nine Heavens, crossing the endless path of the Yellow Springs, echoing across Naiheqiao, piercing the Nine Skies, ready to shatter the cosmos, its might boundless and vast.

……