Chapter 375

Li Miao gripped An Qisheng's neck; from the cracks blooming in his palm, countless tentacles lined with sharp teeth writhed incessantly, slicing away flesh and blood to bring back into his own body.

And so, An Qisheng's neck became thinner and thinner.

Looking at his eyes, he seemed somewhat panicked.

But Li Miao knew he was not afraid of death.

Not to mention that what was currently in Li Miao's mental image was merely An Qisheng's "nature" and not his true self, meaning the concept of death did not exist at all. An Qisheng himself was a Heaven-Man who had grown up through a millennium of slaughter. In an era when the art of nature-cultivation had not yet been completely lost, he had assassinated the ruler of the world several times and faced enemies far superior to him in both number and quality dozens of times.

It was impossible for him to be scared out of his wits by death, just like the Emperor.

The reason for his panic was the memories Li Miao had snatched away.

Everything within the mental image was composed of "nature"; there was no distinction between a fingernail and the brain, and every part carried independent emotions and memories.

Those memories snatched away by Li Miao had truly vanished from An Qisheng's heart.

An Qisheng's panic was because his already vague and sparse memories of the "Old Man by the River" were becoming fewer and fewer, until finally, only the concept of "Master" remained.

The reason he had persisted for these thousand years was disappearing from his mind.

This was the thing he feared most.

Just as Zheng Yi said before dying, a person lives a lifetime, and there must be something they cling to. If a person does not fear death, the reason must be that they fear the consequences of losing other things even more.

From the moment a thousand years ago when he made the choice to found Yingzhou and extend his lifespan through "reincarnation," An Qisheng's greatest fear was that as the number of "reincarnations" increased, the memories and emotions belonging to him would become thinner and thinner, eventually disappearing completely.

Before finding "Master," he could not die.

Even knowing that he was just a clone used to seize Li Miao's body, and even if death would not affect his true self in reality, the same emotions brought the same fear that could not be suppressed by reason.

An Qisheng's gaze changed.

Li Miao's smile, however, became increasingly ferocious.

The neck in his hand was already "a mere handful"; he watched An Qisheng's eyes, which were gradually losing their composure, and slowly increased the force of his grip.

The next moment—thump.

An Qisheng's neck snapped.

The body fell to the ground, and the head was held in Li Miao's hands.

"Actually, I've been thinking about one thing."

Li Miao weighed An Qisheng's head, as if weighing a ripe watermelon.

"Within the mental image, everything is composed of 'nature.' You could say every part is the same, and there is no concept of vital points, yet when you and I fight, you still protect your head."

"Since you said you have already engaged in mental image battles with several people, with your talent, you should have long been accustomed to this kind of battle without vital points, and you shouldn't be making instinctive defensive reactions."

"So, there is still a difference."

Li Miao's fingers drilled bit by bit into An Qisheng's head from the stump below the neck. The tentacles beneath the skin rolled the flesh and blood inward, and the fear in An Qisheng's eyes grew more intense.

"This part of the nature that makes up the head carries the memories and emotions most important to you; you are afraid of losing it."

"You have reincarnated too many times; this part of your memory is your anchor. Once you lose this anchor, you will completely lose yourself."

Li Miao kicked An Qisheng's torso away.

Then he brought the head up to his eyes.

His fingers had already drilled behind An Qisheng's pupils. With the grasping of the tentacles, An Qisheng's head became increasingly thin and transparent; Li Miao could already vaguely see his own wiggling fingers through the eyeballs.

"Having lived a thousand years longer, you should die now."

Squish.

Li Miao's fingers pierced through the top of the skull.

An Qisheng's eyes fell into a state of chaos.

At the last moment before losing consciousness, he heard Li Miao's cruel laugh.

"Your true self will also die."

"If your Master is still alive, I will send him down to see you as well—you can just wait down there to see him; no need to thank me."

An Qisheng wanted to open his mouth to berate him.

But he no longer had the organs to make a sound. The next instant, his vision went dark.

The last piece of black water slid down along Li Miao's fingers, and as it reached his forearm, it was rolled into a crack by a suddenly appearing tentacle and vanished.

On the pitch-black beach, only Li Miao and a headless corpse remained.

Except for the sound of the waves and the sea breeze, there were no other sounds; it seemed everything had ended.

But Li Miao was still waiting with focused attention.

He had no premonition that he was about to wake up; his profound observation was still being interfered with, and his state had not recovered.

This mental image battle had not yet ended.

Li Miao stared at the torso of An Qisheng that he had kicked away.

There was some movement there, vaguely.

With the disappearance of An Qisheng's head, the protective true Qi wrapped around that torso not only did not disappear, but instead expanded even more. At the same time, an extremely eerie aura emanated from the torso.

The next moment, the fingers of the torso moved.

Then the arms, shoulders, and neck, spreading to the whole body like a chain reaction, eventually evolving into eerie and violent convulsions.

"Uh—uh—"

With a heavy echo, as if the screams, wails, cries, and roars of dozens of people were mixed together, they emanated from that torso simultaneously.

The sound grew louder and more tragic.

And clearer.

"Uh—I—"

"Who—am—I—"

"Give it back—my body, my—"

Li Miao curled his lips and clicked his tongue.

"I knew it."

The body within the mental image has no vital points.

Even if An Qisheng's head was absorbed by Li Miao, it should have grown back the next instant.

But like Li Miao, An Qisheng was also special.

His "nature" was not that of one person, but the product of the fusion of dozens of Zheng Anqis that he had possessed over the past thousand years.

The emotions and memories contained in the head were "An Qisheng's" greatest obsession; they were the anchor that allowed him to maintain his self after possessing bodies and being reborn dozens of times, which is why An Qisheng would protect his head.

Now, this anchor was gone.

What would the remaining parts become?

The convulsions of the headless torso stopped.

The clothing, bones, flesh, and hair gradually melted, finally turning into a pool of sticky black water that spread out on the ground and then rose bit by bit from the center.

Dozens of faces emerged bit by bit from that pool of black water.

Some old, some young; some male, some female; all bore an extremely similar face.

They poked their heads out from the black water, and as soon as they took shape, they instinctively opened their mouths and let out shrill wails.

"Ancestor/Island Master/An Qisheng—"

"Give my body back to me! "

"No, I don't want to become you... No!"

The next instant, like wild beasts that had smelled prey, these dozens of faces turned toward Li Miao in unison, their dozens of pairs of eyes filled with the exact same resentment.

"Give it back to me! "

"Give the body back to me!!!"