Chapter 127: Herzog: I Am Already Invincible!

Beneath the Red Demon River, within the Niflheim known as Yomi no Hirasaka.

A colossal copper pillar, stretching endlessly into the sky, stood within it, engraved with countless intricate and mysterious characters recording the wars of ten million years ago and the fates of the rebels.

This was the copper pillar the Black Emperor used to execute the White Emperor; He had once bound the White Emperor to it, torturing him for six centuries until he was near death, then cast him into an undersea volcano to be reduced to ash, after which He consumed those ashes and reclaimed the power He had once granted the White Emperor.

Unfortunately, He overlooked one thing: a human named Izanagi stole a segment of the White Emperor's bone, allowing her bloodline and life to endure, thus giving birth to the myths of Nippon.

And now, upon this towering copper pillar, the "god" who had once revived was nailed down again.

Unlike the Bronze and Fire King who had appeared half a year ago, Norton had revealed his monstrous, colossal dragon form—divine yet demonic, terrifying yet radiating stern beauty.

In contrast, the "god" before him seemed underdeveloped, emaciated and gaunt, with eight cervical vertebrae sprouting from different points of its torso, twisted and grotesque, like a failed genetic experiment.

The only part of it worth noting was its tail.

There, a bone protruded beyond its scales, glowing with a beautiful moon-white hue, radiating an impression of extreme sharpness.

This was Totsuka-no-Tsurugi, the legendary divine weapon extracted from the tailbone of Yamata no Orochi; only such an artifact could surpass the ancient alchemical weapon Ame-no-Murakumo.

Yet even with such a powerful weapon, the "god" lost—defeated by its own bloodline descendants, who drove eight black spears through its eight heads, pinning it immobile to the copper pillar.

Only the eight pairs of dragon eyes still glowed faintly, like dying candles, proving this great being still lived.

At this moment, among the ruins not far from the copper pillar, Kazan Ruri sat on the broken ground, his chest pierced through by Spider Cut, his white kimono soaked crimson by oozing blood.

As for the source Zhi Sheng he held in his arms, he too was on the brink of death, his heart nearly stopped beating.

Lifting his head, blood-tears traced down his pale face and fell, his strength and warmth rapidly draining away.

He and source Zhi Sheng had both failed, perishing together in the tragic tragedy of brother against brother.

At that moment, footsteps approached; the man wearing a noble's mask walked slowly forward, carrying a speaker, followed by Eri, expressionless, holding a long sword.

Then, a melodious tune emerged from the speaker, echoing through the Red Well—it was Tchaikovsky's ballet piece "Swan Lake."

As the volume rose, the melody grew increasingly majestic, as if mourning the fratricidal slaughter.

Through the mask, the man gazed at the dying twins on the ground, let out a soft laugh, then placed the smart speaker on the ground and began to dance, in Kazan Ruri's cold, disgusted gaze.

His movements were flawless, each beat precisely struck, his spins light and lively—so exquisite that even the harshest ballet master would be awed by his dance.

The only flaw was that this piece was meant to be sorrowful, despairing—but he danced it with triumph, as if bursting with uncontainable joy.

"Oujiang… no, who are you really…?"

Kazan Ruri tightened his arms around source Zhi Sheng, his voice weak, as if he would collapse at any moment.

Hearing him, the man's dance halted abruptly; then, with elegant grace, he turned, stepped forward, and removed his mask, revealing a smug, grinning face.

Kazan Ruri had never seen this face before, but he knew the man was Oujiang—and yet he was far more than just Oujiang; he had orchestrated this entire scene, the true mastermind behind everything.

"Though it may sound strange, this is truly our first meeting in the literal sense. Allow me to introduce myself."

"My name is Jung von Herzog, patriarch of the Shishido Eight Families, Ju Zhengzong, Oujiang of Mengu Zhong, and… the future god of this world!"

The silver-haired man—Herzog—spoke, like many villains approaching the final act, recounting his long-planned schemes and machinations.

For instance, source Zhi Nü was never a ghost; her bloodline had no flaw. Her violent rampage years ago was merely the result of brain damage from the Broken Bridge surgery, followed by Herzog implanting a second personality through hypnosis, controlling its emergence with the sound of a wooden clapper.

Beyond that, Herzog had used similar methods to manipulate two shadow warriors, each impersonating Ju Zhengzong and Oujiang, staging endless conflicts between the Shishido Eight Families and Mengu Zhong…

"Ha… HAAAAAAAAA—!!!"

At last, Herzog burst into loud laughter.

As a man about to ascend to godhood, he should have laughed with more restraint.

But he couldn't help it—he was too ecstatic, his grinning mouth and white teeth flaring open uncontrollably, like a split pomegranate.

He had won! He had won!

Hidden to the end, he had not only killed the disruptive intruder, but every one of his preparations had unfolded exactly as planned.

Victory was within reach; with one final step, he would fulfill his wish and become equal to the supreme "god."

But before that, he had one more thing to do.

Herzog walked to the side of source Zhi Nü and source Zhi Sheng, kicked both brothers to the ground, drew Spider Cut, shattered source Zhi Nü's heart, then used it to pierce and crush source Zhi Sheng's heart.

Even a monster like the Emperor could not survive such fatal wounds.

Oh… perhaps one person could have saved them—but he had died not long ago!

Herzog's lips curled into a maniacal grin; he reached into his robe and pulled out the wooden clapper, striking it to command Eri to unleash 【Spiritual Word: Judgment】 at maximum power, tearing apart Yamata no Orochi's body, leaving only Totsuka-no-Tsurugi and a single grotesque embryo struggling to emerge.

It resembled a malformed embryo, its bloated head bearing a single massive eye; what looked like a tail was in fact a fleshy sheath enclosing a spine.

Its ribs protruded beyond the flesh layer—no doubt, during parasitism, these sharp ribs had pierced the host's spinal column to control the body.

Herzog advanced eagerly, kneeling like a pilgrim, trembling hands lifting the grotesque embryo as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world.

This was the key—a key to his ascension to godhood; all he needed was a suitable vessel, and he would claim the divine throne.

Of course, the vessel could not be himself; transplanting this bone fragment directly into his body would be foolish.

After all, the one who once wore this bone was equal to the supreme White Emperor; to humans, it was as insignificant as dust. Placing the parasite within oneself would only allow it to possess the body—Su no Oto was the perfect example.

Thus Herzog needed a vessel to bear the burden, to absorb the White Emperor's will, and only after filtration would he have his chance to ascend.

And that perfect vessel, he had prepared twenty years ago.

"Bang-bang-bang—"

The clapper sounded again; Eri walked forward blankly, taking the embryo from Herzog's feverish, expectant gaze.

What followed was exactly as described in the original: the moment Eri took the embryo, it surged toward her like a shark scenting blood, beginning its parasitism.

White filaments wrapped around the girl, forming a giant cocoon.

Herzog was still not satisfied; he dragged the bodies of source Zhi Sheng and source Zhi Nü closer, letting the white threads consume them too, using imperial blood to strengthen the soon-to-be-revived "god."

Simultaneously, he inserted pre-prepared blood tubes into Eri's aorta and his own neck; under the blood exchange machine's operation, their blood began to swap.

Thus, through blood as the medium, filtered by Eri, the White Emperor's blood—devoid of will—entered Herzog's body.

His pupils brightened, his eyes glowing as if molten lava flowed within; white filaments sprouted across his skin, his flesh grew smooth and moist, glowing with the red hue of an infant.

After an unknown length of time, from within Herzog's white cocoon, a pure white claw tore outward, ripping it apart.

"Power! This is the power of a god!"

In his blazing golden eyes, twin white dragon claws reflected; Herzog roared to the sky, venting his ecstatic, mad triumph.

Then he soared into the sky, ascending to the underside of the Niflheim's clouds.

Violet-white lightning flickered, illuminating his white scales; his twin wings slowly beat, stirring gales, suspending him between heaven and earth like a colossal cross, the reflected light from his scales piercing the darkness.

Soon, as the power surged through his blood, his perception shifted—he could now see the flow of elements.

Red fire, blue water, black earth, white wind… these four fundamental elements, apart from spirit, surged violently across sky and land; chaotic elemental storms triggered storms and tsunamis, reshaping the entire environment.

So this was the power of the dragon race—they could see the world's essence, and thus control the world by manipulating elements.

And now, he could do the same—better still!

"I am already, the invincible… "

ZZZZZZZZ—!!!!

Amid the deafening hum, a terrifying force suddenly crashed from above—like Thor's hammer striking down—smashing this so-called god from the sky.

At the same time, a mocking laugh echoed in his ears.

"Fucking idiot!"

(End of Chapter)