Chapter 774: Fenfeng Phantom

Snap.

Heimu slapped herself.

The sound burst under the Data Space's dim yellow sky, crisp and decisive, and the force of the palm that struck her cheek left no trace.

A few strands of her ash‑white hair were lifted by the impact, floating in midair for a while before settling back onto her shoulder.

A small patch of redness spread on the left side of her face, reaching the base of her ear, standing out sharply against the cold white skin.

A burning sting traveled from her cheek to her brain, colliding with the chaotic thoughts still raging inside, briefly reaching a stalemate.

She stood in place, panting heavily, her chest heaving wildly; each inhalation felt like forcing something about to overflow back down into the back of her throat.

Earlier on the train, Xi Lian stood there, with short pink hair, pointed ears, and blue rhombus‑shaped pupils looking at her, murmuring apologies.

She almost pinned Xi Lian onto the sofa.

When that hand slid from Xi Lian's crown to the back of her neck, the fingertip rested on Xi Lian's delicate warm skin, the pulse thudding under the pad, thudding so hard the last string in her mind nearly snapped.

She had to be quick.

If she were any slower, she'd still be slapping her own moral bottom line.

"Birth," she forced out between her teeth, her voice hoarse as if sanded by sandpaper.

The surging desire deep within her body still churned, crushed under her full will, each second spawning new fissures.

Her fingertips trembled, her knees went weak, a knot of unsettling heat twisted deep in her lower abdomen, and the images in her mind kept replaying endlessly, each more excessive than the last, each making her want to pull out Laigu Shi's cube and beat it ten more times.

She thought—she wanted to pin a cute pretty girl against the wall, to tear someone's clothes, to bite someone's neck, to hear someone call her name in that panicky, soft tone, to trap someone in her arms so they could utter nothing but her name, she wanted—

Snap.

Another slap.

This time she slapped the right side of her face.

The force was heavier than the previous one, sending her stumbling half a step to the side; her hat brim tilted a few degrees, and a few strands of ash‑white hair fell to cover half her face.

There, now both sides of her face are red, symmetrical.

Heimu propped both hands on her knees, hunched over and gulped several breaths.

The air simulated in the Data Space filled her lungs, dry and slightly cool, with a hint of iron‑rust smell, exactly like the scent of a real battlefield.

Each inhalation let her feel the scorching heat in her chest being pressed down a little, while the exhaled breath was scorching, condensing into a small white puff under the dim yellow sky.

She shook her head, trying to shake those chaotic things out of her mind.

Her ash‑white long hair swept back and forth over her shoulders with the motion, the tips brushing the exposed skin at her clavicle.

It itches.

She flicked it harder.

No use.

Those images remained, stuck to her retina, stuck in her cortex, stuck on every nerve ending, impossible to shake off.

She needed to vent.

Anything would do.

Hit someone, get hit, smash all her strength, exhaust her stamina, drain the last ounce of energy from her body.

Crush those chaotic yellow waste pieces into dust with pure violence.

As long as this body feels nothing beyond pure physical fatigue.

She lifted her head, her violet‑black eyes gazing toward the nearby empty dim‑yellow wasteland.

She raised her right hand and snapped her fingers in the air.

The crisp snap rang through the open Data Space, the echo still lingering, and the void dozens of meters ahead began to warp.

The dim yellow sky churned into a vortex, air drawn from all sides into the twisted center, emitting a low hum.

Data streams surged from the vortex's depths, violet‑black light particles mingling with silver‑gray code fragments, weaving and reconstructing in the void, layering over each other.

Fenfeng.

The Extinction Great Lord's phantom hovered, a space depression beneath his feet formed by his very presence.

Its whole body was composed of black and white, minimalist to near abstraction, its torso loosely wrapped in white strips whose edges floated freely in the windless space, as if lifted by an unseen flame.

Its face was entirely covered by tangled white light, with a few fierce white rays faintly piercing the gaps.

Its face was indistinct, only a razor‑thin fissure deep within the light could be seen—likely its gaze.

In its right hand it held a slender black longsword, the blade unadorned, starkly minimalist, the tip slightly drooping.

The air of the entire Data Space suddenly stilled the instant it appeared, the dim yellow sky pushed aside by an invisible force, revealing a ring of gray‑black void at the edge.

It simply stood there, motionless, its oppressive aura already causing the barren ground beneath Heimu's feet to crack.

Phantom.

It was only a phantom Heimu simulated from data fragments secretly recorded during the battle between Fenfeng and Bai E, not even one‑tenth of the real one's strength.

Yet that aura alone was enough to bring the entire Data Space to the brink of danger.

Heimu's shoulders broke out in gooseflesh, and the chaotic thoughts in her mind were finally a bit muffled by that destructive pressure.

She chose Fenfeng over Bai E, because this guy's power carries a void base.

At the junction of Destruction and void, that cold, hollow force should be able to suppress the evil fire within her by a few degrees.

Poison to poison.

Huh—

She exhaled all the remaining heat from her lungs, stretched her right hand forward, black magic surged from her palm, coalescing into the slender shaft of a Magic Staff.

The staff's body was entirely jet‑black, its surface coursing with dark‑purple light patterns; the head housed a violet‑black crystal encased in a thorn‑like metal frame, within which dark mist swirled like a living thing.

The staff's tip struck the void, sending out a silent dark‑purple ripple.

"Come."

The other side.

Qingque lay sprawled on a tangled heap of Bubbles.

The heap of Bubbles barely formed a fish shape, roughly a fish, if you ignore that it was missing half a Tail and its back bore a huge hole.

The outline of the blue fish had vanished, leaving only this struggling heap of Bubbles trying to maintain its last buoyancy.

The surface of the Bubbles was dotted with clusters of tiny golden buds, each gently writhing like a parasitic skin rash.

Her condition was even worse than the Bubbles'.

The right half of her body had been shattered completely, literally broken; the fracture edges were uneven, the ragged flesh curled, golden fluid and dark red blood mixing together to coat half of her body.

The broken portion was slowly regenerating, new bones sprouting with a faint lapis‑blue glow in the air, extending outward strand by strand.

The speed was very slow, probably because of excessive energy consumption.

The left side of her body was relatively intact, but still far from healed.