Chapter 9

Vomit—

When time stops, what do you think about?

If you could extract every reader’s thoughts, you could probably compile them into a book.

And such a book already exists in the real world—it’s called the Criminal Code.

In truth, when time stops, you can’t think of anything at all.

Consciousness resides in existence, and the essence of [existence] is [time].

When time solidifies, existence ceases, consciousness becomes unaware, and the person loses all thought, turning into a statue of flesh and blood.

This experience is terrifying, because those trapped in time stasis might feel they have already died.

But it might not be so terrifying, because that person likely won’t even realize they’re trapped in time stasis.

It’s unclear how long passed—for Cheng Shi and the others, it may have been an instant, but for the Dread Demons, perhaps an entire lifetime...

The area-fast-forward effect gradually ended, and Song Yawen, who had been hiding behind Cheng Shi, slowly regained clarity.

The moment his thinking ability returned, he felt the ultimate blossoming of death.

The corpses of the Dread Demons above rained down, and rotting flesh mixed with countless tentacles flooded into this still-clean space.

The stench of the dead rushed at him, thick as a gel, making Song Yawen’s spirit tremble from the depths of his soul.

What level of death domain is this?

Does such a level of death domain even exist??

If this were to be unleashed fully, wouldn’t it summon the true god of [Death]???

After three stunned questions, Song Yawen wasted no time—he vividly remembered Cheng Shi saying this strike would be their salvation.

Watching the tentacle monsters, now with no flesh left to eat, frantically writhing toward the six of them, Song Yawen took a deep breath, and his eyes instantly turned pure black.

Harvest state, activated!

He extended his hands and clamped them tightly around his own neck.

There was a sharp *crack*—his neck was brutally snapped by his own hands.

Then, the standing “corpse” of Song Yawen began to slowly dissolve; the thick death aura around him instantly boiled, dark winds howled, green light surged, and in the blink of an eye, a colossal black scythe radiating apocalyptic power appeared above everyone’s heads.

Cheng Shi and the others had just regained their senses, and seeing the death scythe hanging above them, they all held their breath.

Big.

Too big.

They had never seen such a terrifying death scythe—even the tiny skull ornament at the end of the haft looked like a giant statue carved from a mountain.

Not to mention the blade, glowing with a faint green light, which seemed like a blade capable of slicing through planets.

Even in the 2100 scenario, Cheng Shi had never seen a death scythe this large!

Right now, his mind held only one thought: pray Song Yawen doesn’t go mad and kill them all too.

“Souls rest, life ends! Funeral, harvest!”

As the faint, distant prayer thundered across heaven and earth, the colossal scythe swept downward, wrapped in the whispers of the dead.

Except for the area where they stood, the entire ruin visible to the eye cracked in an instant.

Like shattered glass, spiderweb cracks spread open.

Then...

A chorus of mournful sighs embracing death rose and fell, echoing through the heavens, as countless monstrous tentacle creatures, bloated with consumed flesh, closed their eyes and fell still, as if in peaceful slumber.

Death is never a cataclysmic event.

In the instant the scythe fell, their life flames extinguished silently.

When the man dies, the scythe vanishes.

Less than a few seconds passed.

Yet the death aura still rising around them had not dissipated—it twisted and surged again, coalescing to reform the “dead” Song Yawen.

He fell from midair, gasping and drenched in sweat; the moment his feet touched the ground, he collapsed into the bloodstained muck, his whole body convulsing uncontrollably.

Nangong, closest to him, instinctively reached out to pull him up—her hand barely touched Song Yawen’s wrist when she realized his body was abnormally healthy, even brimming with peak vitality.

His convulsions weren’t from post-power exhaustion—they were the ecstatic tremors of climax.

“Awesome—awesome—

I swear I saw my Lord’s face, saw Him seated on a throne of bones, granting me this colossal scythe.

Awesome—

Cheng Shi, you’re incredible!!!”

Panting, he struggled to rise, limbs flailing wildly:

“Just this one strike—my whole life is worth it...”

Cheng Shi smiled faintly; Nangong disdainfully let go of Song Yawen’s hand.

Chen Chong and Cao San Sui remained lost in the awe of that apocalyptic scythe strike—until the Dread Demon flesh and dead tentacles nearly buried them, at which point Chen Chong hauled up the half-dead Cao San Sui from the blood-mud.

“Is... is it over?”

He still couldn’t believe it—so many Dread Demons, such a massive army, just gone?

What exactly just happened?

Seeing Chen Chong’s curious gaze, Cheng Shi grinned:

“Don’t ask—you wouldn’t want to know what happened. And the situation isn’t resolved. The Bone Army’s right flank is missing—there’s a high chance they’ll send someone to investigate. We need to leave immediately.”

He grabbed the writhing Xia Wan as well, pointing at her swollen belly, calves, and back, and said seriously:

“Our combat strength is severely damaged. Cao San Sui, Nangong, and Xia Wan have all lost their fighting capability. The first two are manageable, but Xia Wan’s condition needs immediate treatment—we must retreat and find a place to regroup.”

Song Yawen was still lost in the exhilaration of his world-ending strike; hearing Cheng Shi’s urgency, he blurted out:

“Aren’t you still here?”

Cheng Shi, carrying Xia Wan, turned black-faced.

“I’m a 1500-point healer—what can I do?”

“????”

Song Yawen stared, dumbfounded, pointing at the hellish carnage outside, stammering:

“You... you... this whole thing... wasn’t all you?”

His voice cracked as he added, “If you’re only 1500 points, I’ll cut off my head and kick it like a ball.”

Chen Chong’s face darkened too. He hoisted Cao San Sui onto his back, grabbed Nangong, and marched out without hesitation, thinking to himself:

This guy really has power—but he’s too full of himself, and it’s annoying.

Worse, he always gets away with it!

Victory’s banter isn’t offensive, but the environment doesn’t allow prolonged lingering, so everyone struggled on, stumbling through the muddy, blood-soaked ruins, heading east with uneven, heavy steps.

Standing at the center of the death domain, they hadn’t fully grasped its scale—but as they stepped one by one out of this flesh-and-blood hell, they finally understood what Cheng Shi had just done.

Flesh chunks, shattered corpses, slime, black blood.

The group walked as if through a museum, where every exhibit displayed forms and substances of blood and flesh—beyond imagination, constantly assaulting the sensitive stomach nerves of any normal human.

This scene could no longer be described.

Just this once, the five present gained a new understanding of [Birth].

Could this be the work of an orderly, righteous god?

Even Xia Wan, a follower of [Birth], staring at this revolting scene, couldn’t help but want to...

Vomit—

Nangong was the first to vomit.

She was already weakened from self-harm; now, as her legs rubbed through the flesh-mud, the stench of decay flooded her nose—not offering the guidance of [Decay], but triggering unbearable nausea.

As soon as the first person vomited, the scene spiraled out of control.

“Vomit—vomit—”

Everyone lost control.

Especially Chen Chong—eager to escape this hell, he vomited as he ran, carrying one person who vomited on his back and dragging another who vomited beside him; the triple chorus of retching tore at his ears, driving him to the brink.

“Xia Wan, hold it in—it’s my Lord’s doing, it’s guiding you...”

“Vomit—”

“...”

Cheng Shi felt warmth on his shoulder, then his face twitched.

“Your mom... must’ve been heartbroken for you...”

Xia Wan, enduring the violent struggles of the “life” growing inside her, weakly replied:

“My mom’s dead... she offered herself to [Corruption]...”

“Ah...”

Cheng Shi, ashamed of his own crude words, felt deep regret: I deserve to die...

“Forget my mom—worry about my daughter. She might be about to be born...”

Cheng Shi’s face darkened as he shouted ahead:

“Chen Chong, get ready! Xia Wan’s going into labor!”