Chapter 152

Ye Fan: "Hope Earth is safe." (clasping hands)

He glanced at the masked man in the sky and sighed: "The strength of Su Niuma is beyond my current reach."

Xiao Yan: 【IMAGE】

Zhongli: "Only by witnessing it firsthand can one truly grasp the vastness of the Immortal Path—like a starry sea. I've only just set sail."

Yi Leina stepped on the soil, gazing at the towering figure that blocked out the sky; her expression was grim, her magic boiling within: "That blue sun is magic!"

Luffy: "Are you going to become a pirate too, Zhongli?"

Zhongli: "It's just a figure of speech."

Luffy: "Pity."

Zhang Chuyan: "Kneeling…"

Can't I really delete my chat history?

No matter how hard one tries to conceal, hide, or search, the final decision rests in our hands—mythical beings appeared suddenly, without warning.

"We are one? But one seems like an Eastern immortal deity, the other like a Western mythic god."

If those outside the chat groups haven't noticed, then so be it.

Infinite law-chains danced through the sky, forming a prison vast enough to contain the Solar System; within the locks, blazing thunder and lightning transformed into heavenly retribution, turning the starry void into a place of punishment, halting the steps of the holy beast's spectral form.

The future Zhongli felt a ripple in his heart, wondering whether the man before him had been replaced by this world's Emperor of Time—why had he gained eight wings, yet his form remained nearly identical?

Tao Hui's commotion over the past half-year had drawn attention to supernatural events, yet no matter how hard they searched or plotted, they found nothing.

That idea struck me as absurd.

This was originally an excellent world-building setup—through this method, future Zhongli could enact an automatic "enlightenment" program for Earth's people.

A silver meteor shower was rapidly approaching Zhongli; they came in countless legions, determined to bring failure to the reemergence of their own era's existence.

On Earth

"Come to think of it, I vaguely saw that Western god holding a weapon resembling a Han sword."

"He really is willing to spend it—does he have so little cosmic primordial energy in storage?"

The people of Earth had just finished questioning their familiar history, filled with fear, frenzy, and other emotions, gazing toward the divine figures in the sky—when suddenly, that blue sun began to expand, pulsing like a heartbeat, growing one full circumference every second.

"Is this a divine war?"

The more this happened, the stronger Su Lin's killing intent became.

The power of creation replaced pure darkness; every strand of black radiance within his left wing was a rebirth of miracle.

"Fating Xiangdi? Now that's more like his style." Su Lin, expressionless, stared at the other self—towering over the sky, standing in the universe.

A unified essence of gravity magic, destruction magic, and space-time magic—Shi Jiu.

"A gentleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall." This Earthly proverb holds truth.

Is the god going to destroy the world?!

In his hand, the blue sun blazed with azure light; countless gear-like magical arrays began to rotate, compressing energy to its extreme, warping the surrounding space.

Dao essence drifted gently, shattering the Milky Way; beneath the Tianhe Battle Robe, spectral images of Xuanwu and Qinglong lunged forward, stirring torrents of spiritual energy with the power to swallow sun and moon.

Eight solidified light wings unfolded; Zhongli stepped forward—in one instant, he appeared among the star-sea; light converged, his form swelled, though still not matching his opponent's size, he stood at Earth's opposite pole, gazing across at his future self.

Then, he saw the opponent being swallowed whole by Shi Jiu—within the azure energy, he was endlessly annihilated and reborn in the next instant.

If he has such means, why resort to such inefficient, ridiculous methods to gain attention? Minimize profit? Don't make me laugh. Zhongli judged by himself—the most likely reason is that because he himself had been drenched in rain, he refused to let his past self get stained with mud. It's growth without filth.

This was perhaps a perfect form he might have forged.

As if responding to our despair and helplessness, the purple-robed figure below spoke:

Han Li had not joined the group chat; now, he held an unfinished cultivation scripture, crossed through the teleportation gate, returned to the Chaos Star Sea, and was calmly watching the group's live-streamed perspectives.

I can almost imagine—tens of thousands of years ago, as I gazed down upon the fate-tracks of all worlds, someone pointed at my figure and said:

What image have I always held in others' eyes? It must be mysterious, endlessly fortunate, rich in blessings, with inexhaustible hidden cards, watching the world's myriad changes with detached amusement—a latent powerhouse.

The giant tree split down the middle, toppling to either side; where it split, space twisted like a pair of doors swinging wide inward.

Zhongli's face showed no fear; violent light surged in orderly chaos, the world lost all boundaries; countless rays bent and twisted, weaving into a colossal tree that stretched from earth to heaven. Its branches swayed and grew—but then half of the tree withered, and like fire had scorched it, turned into pitch-black charred wood.

With a whoosh, the light wings arched up from his back and unfurled.

"Look, this young man's mind was never quite right—he's called Su Niuma."

All planning, all thoughts and ambitions, at that moment became illusory bubbles.

A mournful sound echoed from the vast river of history—vast and endless, like a bell tolling without end; all sentient beings, regardless of language, felt the sorrow in his tone.

The future Zhongli watched the figure closely; he never underestimated any enemy, let alone his past self—and even now, he sensed, deep within his mind, that the opponent still held hidden cards.

The blue sun no longer maintained its form; it surged toward Tao Hui with the power to annihilate matter—but the moment it was released, it shattered space, looping back to appear dozens of meters behind Zhongli.

"Kill!"

Nearly equal numbers of Liewang guards poured from the divine realm like a downpour, wielding all manner of weapons, blessed with divine grace, clashing with the silver tide.

A single sentence sparked boundless speculation among them.

Only this feels normal—even if achieved through item power. If he were defeated so easily, the power gap would be too great, and Su Lin would feel disappointed.

Unbounded darkness erupted fully; the divine miracles never fully revealed on Earth now manifested completely, amplified further by heavenly will. The divine core was merely a mold for power—Zhongli needed no active function from the divine core; it served only as a core, with circuits and energy granted by heaven and earth itself.

The opponent drew a slender purple sword from the void; purple qi swirled, radiating auspicious light; two utterly different powers surged to overwrite each other's rules.

We, like the special ones, know nothing—no details, no full picture, no understanding of why those below are fighting.

Meanwhile, in Wangshu Pavilion beneath Shuijing Peak, countless cultivation scriptures and spells flew out spontaneously, flipping rapidly!

"Is this the true truth of Earth's mythology?"

He waved his hand; from within his narrow sleeve, tens of thousands of disciplined silver-armored soldiers came alive, surging like a silver meteor shower toward the eight-winged deity.

Unlike projections or illusions, the Tianhe Battle Robe reproduces reality—this armor originates from the Zhu Yuan within the body of one of the Seventeen Sacred Beasts, who witnessed the universe's birth; through the influence of Dao principles, I can read the world's records during a specific time and reproduce them truly within this world.

But Tao Hui gripped his sword tighter—philosophy? If you don't know the truth, fine—but I can picture, even with my eyes closed, how many of those in the know are laughing right now.

"You and he were originally one; you are not him, you are not yourself."

"What exactly happened in the ancient past? Which figure from mythology do we correspond to?"

Crack—

Zhongli remained silent, locking eyes with him.

"To kill each other merely because your ideals are the same—ridiculous, pitiful."

The extent of heavenly will's reinforcement dropped again; the aura and pressure beneath Zhongli rose another slight notch, and the future Zhongli's face twisted with visible pain.

Zhongli pointed a finger; the golden gates of heaven opened, and a chaotic torrent surged toward the opponent, dissolving and fusing all it touched, returning to its original entangled form.

A rain of crimson fire descended.

Now then? The Love-Burial Clan's hot nobility, the Hairstyle Emperor's Crown Prince, still isn't Gotham's nightmare!

The right-wing of light, like pure water stained black by an ink brush, crumbled as creative force shattered into oblivion, then solidified into eternal destruction and chaos.

"God!?!?" Western reporters gradually came to their senses, turning to Zhongli; they saw countless illusory wings layered around him, and heavenly music echoed in their ears, stirring the seeds of faith already planted in their hearts and making them devout.

No matter which faction, to ordinary people, they were unreachable high mountains—but now, their gap with the two below them was as vast as heaven and abyss.

One more chapter is being written; everyone, check tomorrow morning.

End of chapter.