Chapter 251: Source of Evil (Requesting Monthly Tickets)

【Little Mage, you have a heart of stone! To catch everyone in one net, you spun a colossal lie on the forum—so many hometown brothers trusted you, doesn’t your heart ache? Doesn’t this sacrificial power you earned make you feel guilty?】

【No wonder you’re on the villain path—you’re playing mind games with your fellow villagers? Besides brute force slaughter, now you’re using strategy? Luring enemies deep, then netting them all—you truly have the makings of a villain. I hope you keep walking this path; don’t bother returning home. Expelled from the village roster, never to be recorded again.】

【If you dare come back, you’ll never leave again. Spend your life as a village guardian. Despicable, beast, scumbag—I fought my way out of that encirclement, killing through hell to reach the welfare point, lost three teammates, downed two premium potions, barely escaped—and you played dirty! I hate you!】

【I’m crying! Our squad entered the Lingxi World and looted everywhere—we never died. We survived multiple encounters with hunting squads led by War Sacrifice leaders, yet we died at your hands. You’re truly amazing—I never saw this trap coming.】

Sitting dazed on the ground, the Little Mage scrolled through forum messages, his emotions a tangled mess.

At this moment, he even wanted to die.

He didn’t understand spatial science, and even Blood King’s memories contained no knowledge of it.

The sudden accident was utterly unforeseen.

Later, he learned the truth through guidance queries.

Transmitting different spiritual resources through the spatial tunnel requires generating isolation barriers; otherwise, disparate spiritual substances trigger conflicts in energy, matter, and elements, ultimately causing explosions.

Now he understood—it was too late to undo it.

His original intent was to distribute welfare, but it became the forum’s “netting everyone.”

Through forum posts, he could also see:

Players who came to claim welfare paid a heavy price to reach the city he specified.

Many had barely survived the “Death Tunnel,” then escaped through environments sealed by the Super Beasts Legion, overcoming countless obstacles to arrive here.

But that wasn’t all.

Some players had already been in the Lingxi World for a long time.

They’d repeatedly encountered Lingxi Clan hunting squads, fleeing everywhere, causing chaos—yet the Lingxi Clan could never catch them.

Every time they were surrounded, they escaped.

As a result, under the guise of distributing welfare, he successfully netted this entire group of scattered players the Super Beasts Legion couldn’t handle.

He contributed significantly to the Lingxi Clan’s anti-invasion war.

Thinking of this, the Little Mage’s psyche shattered.

At that moment, a challenger notification popped into his mind:

【Challenger Notification: You have been kicked out of the player guild “Beach Likes Waves,” handled by: Ha Lang (Guild Master).】

【Wahhhhh.】

This blow was the final straw—the Little Mage completely broke down, tears bursting from his eyes.

He knew he could never go back.

If he returned now, he’d never leave the novice village’s spatial realm again.

Outside, every soul was his enemy.

He’d considered posting an explanation, showing forum players how he moved his wealth.

To prove his intent was truly welfare distribution—that the explosion was merely an accident during the process.

But as one player had said in the previous post:

Videos show no internal thoughts—only what you did, never what you thought.

He could never prove whether he’d truly intended to net everyone—or if he’d genuinely wanted to distribute welfare.

Watching the space tunnel, now collapsing yet being reconstructed under the source point’s energy flow, the Little Mage knew he must return to the Blood Pool Legion as soon as possible.

Before clearing his name, he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—return home.

He dared not return.

While waiting, the space tunnel completed its reconstruction under the source point’s power—the Little Mage stepped directly into it.

His mood sank to its lowest point.

Not because he worried about losing the vault’s resources or couldn’t explain to the legion warriors.

The vault’s resources differed from the legion’s supply depot—it held mainly Blood King’s collected trophies.

Even if all were lost, no other Throne, nor Blood Pool Super Beasts Legion warriors, would dare question it.

His mind was consumed by one question: how to post an explanation?

The more players initially trusted him in his first post, the harsher the backlash from this mistake.

【Damn it!】

Not long after, the Little Mage commanded the End Beast back to the Blood Pool Legion’s base.

Seeing the End Beast’s surface partially carbonized, he decided to repair it first.

But if he had to repair it every time he used it, the cost would be enormous—better to turn it into a pseudo-rule.

Though the End Beast’s strength wasn’t high, it would be more than sufficient for early-game players.

In the future, he could even combine it with other Nascent Souls to create stronger combo playstyles.

With this idea, the Little Mage summoned his hidden Guidance:

【Guidance, I want to turn the End Beast into a special Nascent Soul.】

【As you wish.】

【By the way, Guidance—Memory Sack is the key to controlling the End Beast. If I turn the End Beast into a special Nascent Soul but lose the Memory Sack, what then?】

In response, Guidance spoke calmly:

【Then fuse the Memory Sack and the End Beast together into one Nascent Soul. Add thirty thousand sacrificial power. Any problem?】

【No.】

Hearing this, the Little Mage was overjoyed—the Blood King’s Memory Sack could be preserved.

As Guidance acted, the Little Mage’s remaining sacrificial power plummeted rapidly.

The massive body of the End Beast was suddenly wrapped in countless crimson chains.

These chains, pure sacrificial power, tightened swiftly once they covered enough surface area.

Roar!

Though uncontrolled by the Little Mage, the End Beast let out a pained bellow—its mountain-sized body trembled violently under the chains’ restraint.

Its biological instincts drove it to thrash wildly, claws tearing at the chains—but not a single link budged.

Its body began collapsing at visible speed—not crushed or deformed, but collapsing as if from a higher-dimensional contraction.

Like a 3D painting forcibly folded into a 2D plane.

Claws remained sharp, bone spines still grotesque—but its overall presence faded rapidly.

Crack! Crack!

The End Beast’s surface emitted brittle sounds like shattering glass.

Finally, all chains linked together, sealing the End Beast entirely within.

Where the End Beast once stood, only a fist-sized dark red crystal core remained, floating.

Then crimson chains reappeared.

This time, they erupted from within the Little Mage himself, wrapping around his body.

Feeling the oppressive pressure of the chains, the Little Mage groaned.

He felt something being pulled from deep within his soul.

The Memory Sack’s neural tendrils writhed frantically beneath his skin, like parasitic creatures unwilling to leave their host.

The chains wrapped around the blood-colored tendrils, as if tugging at some viscous gel.

Finally, the Memory Sack was fully ripped from his body, compressed into a glowing, deep-blue crystal core.

Inside the core, countless memory fragments swirled like a galaxy, faintly showing scenes of the Blood King’s cross-realm conquests.

The constant reorganization of memories resembled a 3D book rapidly flipped by an invisible hand.

Losing the Memory Sack, all memories of the Blood King vanished instantly.

He remembered only his own experiences, knew who the Blood King was, and recalled every memory he’d viewed.

But this memory now felt incredibly thin.

Finally, under Guidance’s control, the two crystals merged—and vanished.

A challenger notification rang in the Little Mage’s mind:

【Challenger Notification: Special Nascent Soul “Unnamed” successfully created. Check your personal inventory.】

Summoning his personal inventory, the last row of his resource-filled item slots now held a dark red bead.

Inside, a miniature End Beast was frozen mid-roar, every bone spur rendered in exquisite detail.

Focusing his awareness, relevant information surfaced:

【Unnamed (Special Nascent Soul):】

Trait Effect: Composed of the End Beast and Memory Sack. After embedding into a Star Vein Slot, the Memory Sack portion implants within you, allowing instant summoning of the End Beast into Armed Cultivation Mode.

Tip: The End Beast cannot grow through hunting. Enhance its Nascent Soul strength by consuming flesh energy to optimize combat genes.

……

Looking at the million-value Nascent Soul in his backpack, the Little Mage’s emotions were complex.

Joy and sorrow intertwined.

He was thrilled—this was wealth he’d never dared dream of.

As an ordinary player, he’d fantasized about stumbling upon a lucky windfall in the Monster World, striking it rich.

But “rich” meant ten thousand sacrificial power.

He never imagined this accident would grant him a Special Nascent Soul.

Combined with draining the Blood Pool, slaying Blood Slaves, and unprocessed resources still in his personal inventory, his total gains surely exceeded two million sacrificial power.

This was wealth he had never dared to dream of.

Before the teleportation activated, he had already planned how to spend this money.

The physical layer.

He would first sell one hundred thousand sacrificial power, converting it into real-world currency—preferably universal Earth coins.

Then he would travel to Eclipse City, undergo a life-extension procedure for himself and his family, order the latest virtual gaming equipment from the Eclipse Clan, and purchase a robot butler capable of automatically replacing nutrient tanks...

In the game, he would spend the remaining sacrificial power on Body Strengthening rank, Star Vein slots, and Rune Resonance weapons.

With leftover funds, he would craft a top-tier vehicle, its design must be dazzling, meant to draw stares when driven out...

Sadly, after an unexpected accident struck, this imagined bright future was crushed.

Unless he fully returned to reality and abandoned the game.

But if he did that, what joy would life still hold?

His parents were both fighting for eligibility to enter the game—where was the fun in a reality choked with pollution compared to the virtual world?

Amidst swirling thoughts, the Little Mage named his unique Nascent Soul: Source of Sin.

Then he dragged it into the Star Vein slot for embedding.

Instantly, he felt an energy coursing through his body—a sensation of filling, as if some hollowed-out part within him was being replenished.

Activate Eagle-Head Demon Perception.

In his inner vision, the Memory Sac reappeared; neural tendrils spread beneath his skin, denser than before, tightly coiling around his bones and organs, finally re-forming the familiar blood-red core at the center of his chest.

The lost Blood King’s memories returned.

As for his future direction, he planned to take it one step at a time—first, blend in with the Lingxi Clan for a while.

He would provide the forum players with war deployment data from the Lingxi Clan, acting as a mole, to dispel their hostility toward him.

He just didn’t know if any players would still believe him.

Two days later, Tianqi City.

Beneath the dome of the Lingxi Royal Court, the Eight Thrones gathered.

The Little Mage took his seat as the Blood King.

The meeting’s agenda was not discussion—it was observation of the floating behemoths’ reconnaissance of the other world.

On the crystal screen, the massive floating behemoth automatically disintegrated into countless planktonic organisms upon entering the spatial passage, followed by an equally colossal floating jellyfish.

As soon as they entered the spatial passage, the feedback imagery caused all Thrones except the Little Mage to stiffen.

In the crystal projection, the fragile spatial passage resembled rotting wood hollowed out by insects—cracks everywhere, spewing chaotic void currents, patched crudely like a child’s mud-stuck repairs.

Immediately upon entering, one floating jellyfish was swept away by reverse currents, its connection severed.

As they ventured deeper into the passage, the imagery revealed made the Seven Thrones nearly believe they had entered the wrong passage.

Along the way, the spatial barriers were riddled with torn wounds, their edges jagged with uneven fissures.

This craftsmanship was unbearable to look at.

Yet the data returned by the floating jellyfish left the Thrones gasping.

Every inch of the spatial barrier contained extraordinarily precious spatial spiritual materials—even stronger than the top-tier spatial material called “Divine Bone” in Lingxi Clan records.

But now, these materials were crudely stacked like inferior bricks.

The passage structure was riddled with violent seams, with unseparated void currents oozing from the joints, like a child’s shattered porcelain glued together with glue.

Countless tiny spatial reverse currents raged through the passage like chronic diseases, causing continuous deaths among their own scout units during transit.

Vast numbers of planktonic organisms were sucked away by reverse currents.

As time passed, the Seven Thrones were stunned.

They had assumed the invading force must possess spatial technology comparable to the Lingxi Clan’s.

After all, an invading force incapable of mastering spatial technology could never breach other worlds.

Perhaps during transit, losses would be catastrophic due to the passage’s myriad flaws.

To the Seven Thrones, this spatial passage made no sense—it was nothing but a guillotine.

The problem was, the invading force had arrived precisely through this passage.

Along the way, the floating jellyfish detected multiple invading warrior signatures passing by.

They even witnessed invading warriors being swept away by spatial reverse currents.

The entire passage gave them the impression of a primitive civilization clumsily assembling inferior transport devices from scavenged top-tier civilization materials.

More like a crumbling, Suishikenengbengtadeweilouzoulang than a bridge connecting two worlds.

The Seven Thrones fell silent.

Compared to the invading force’s displayed strength, this spatial passage shocked them even more.

What they couldn’t comprehend was: what kind of courage would dare launch an invasion using this passage?

Perhaps nearly half their combat strength would be lost before even reaching the Lingxi World, destroyed en route.

This truly exceeded the Seven Thrones’ understanding.

This teleportation passage was too brutal!

What kind of godlike force would dare use this thing to invade other worlds?

Did they have too many warriors and population? Was this a way to cull some before invasion?

This made the Seven Thrones of the Lingxi Clan recall a historical record.

When the Memory Sac system was developed, Lingxi Clan members no longer faced lifespan limits, and their population surged dramatically.

To curb this explosive growth, they had proposed the war-plunder development model.

Could this clan be experiencing the same situation—and currently be in this phase?

More importantly, given this passage’s damaged structure, even if they plundered resources, most would be lost during return transit.

Could they even profit from plunder?

Too many unexplainable questions filled the Seven Thrones’ minds.

Only the Little Mage remained utterly calm throughout.

Death during teleportation, in his view, was perfectly reasonable.

Finally, the crystal screen revealed the passage’s end.

A grotesque fissure slowly writhed, like a greedy mouth; its edges flickered with unstable red light, faintly revealing crude repair marks—as if someone had forcibly squeezed the spatial tear shut.

With this technology, execution in the Lingxi World wouldn’t be excessive.

At this point, due to continuous losses along the way, only about one-third of the scout units remained.

As they passed through the spatial rift, the Seven Thrones saw before them the scene of Colorful Mist Coast; below, countless player figures gathered, all looking up.

A great battle was inevitable.

The floating jellyfish swiftly ascended into the sky and activated its data-collection Cultivation Mode.

The planktonic organisms ahead began assembling into combat units: floating behemoths, tasked with protecting the jellyfish while engaging the players.

As the jellyfish’s tendrils moved, blood crystals instantly displayed the analyzed data of the invaded world.

But the moment they saw the feedback data, the Seven Thrones of the Lingxi Clan leapt to their feet.

The astonishment in their eyes gradually transformed into terror as the data continued to grow.

This information left them utterly dumbfounded.

In the invaded world’s atmosphere, there were countless elemental energies, plus many more that couldn’t be analyzed, listed only as “Unknown.”

This data continued to increase.

Even more devastating to the Seven Thrones was the preliminary analysis of the invaded world’s fundamental structure.

Every basic element within the structure was vastly larger than the Lingxi World’s most core world origin—like a mountain compared to an ant.

Such fundamental elements filled the world’s framework, countless in number.

This structure completely exceeded their existing understanding, triggering uncontrollable panic.

“Guide Brother, do they really need to be this shocked?”

Seeing the Seven Thrones’ reactions, the Little Mage couldn’t help wondering inwardly.

In response, the Guide Water Sphere half-opened its eyelids:

【It’s certain that the Lord of Blessings felt the same way back then. This sensation can be understood as a collapse of worldview.】

“So what exactly was overturned?”

【I’ll tell you a story—you might not understand otherwise.】

【There was once a place where an ancient lighthouse stood atop a seaside cliff. For a hundred years, it lit at sunset and extinguished at sunrise.】

A seabird discovered this pattern.

Every day, it observed: whether rainy, sunny, or stormy, the lighthouse always lit and extinguished on time.

After three hundred days of recording, the seabird proudly announced to its flock: it had discovered the truth of light—the lighthouse always extinguishes at sunrise!

The seabird taught its discovery to its kin.

A year later, the seabird’s clan learned to use the lighthouse.

Whenever the lighthouse lit, they took flight collectively, using its light to locate fish emerging at night.

When it extinguished, they returned to their nests, avoiding daytime predators.

They called this discovery: the Lighthouse Law.

From then on, the seabird clan learned to predict precisely when the lighthouse would turn on and off.

Five years later, the seabirds established the Lighthouse Order.

Laws were enacted to prohibit fishing when the lighthouse went dark, deeming it a violation of natural law that would inevitably incur a price.

The first seabirds to discover this pattern were revered as the "Father of Light."

During this time, some clan members ventured out beyond the defined hours and were indeed attacked by predators, reinforcing the seabirds’ faith in the Lighthouse Law.

In the fifteenth year, the seabirds had undergone a generational replacement, yet the new generation still adhered strictly to the old generation’s Lighthouse Law, living by its dictates.

Relying on the Lighthouse Law, the clan flourished increasingly.

In the winter of the twentieth year, the lighthouse failed to illuminate for several consecutive days due to maintenance issues.

The entire seabird clan stubbornly waited for the Law of Light to return, refusing to venture out in violation of the rule, and ultimately froze to death.

Returning to the original topic, the lifeforms of the small world appear more advanced than the seabirds.

But under the scale of the Monster World, they too could be classified as seabirds, with extremely limited cognition.

Even though many truths have been proven, when viewed from a broader perspective, one is astonished to realize that the laws they worship are merely temporary rules in the eyes of higher-level beings.

Even arbitrary settings that can be altered at will.

The seven kings of the Lingxi Clan were like seabirds—they had developed a fixed understanding of the world’s structure and revered it as truth.

This truth had been validated countless times over their long history.

In reality, it was merely mistaking surface-level patterns for ultimate truth.

Upon encountering the Monster World, what they had held as truth shattered before their eyes.

It was like believing a universal constant of your world was merely a controllable parameter in the eyes of the high-dimensional.

Specifically, their prized "Elemental Analysis Technology" could only identify 0.001% of the energy at the surface layer in this world; the remaining 99.999% was labeled as "Unknown," and these unknown markers continued to grow in real time as analysis persisted.

Like ants attempting to comprehend the internet, they found that behind every unknown lay yet another unknown nested within.

This was merely the Coastal Mist region, excluding the domain spaces brought by numerous Jianglin forces.

Preliminary investigations revealed that the Lingxi Clan’s seven thrones had seen their perceived ironclad laws of world structure shattered, and their cognition overturned.

Even their tools for measuring the Monster World were like children’s toy rulers trying to measure the size of the Earth—yielding only the unknown.

One could also understand it as a frog at the bottom of a well leaping out and discovering the world was not as narrow as they believed, but vastly larger than imaginable.

After listening to the guide’s explanation, the little mage nodded in sudden understanding.

Turning to look, the expressions on the seven thrones were filled with terror.

Especially the Shadow King—his eyes bulged wide, like two brass bells about to burst from their sockets, brimming with uncontainable, Jizhi terror, as if he had beheld the most horrifying thing in existence.

His lips trembled uncontrollably, opening and closing yet producing no sound, as if an invisible hand had strangled his throat.

The other thrones displayed nearly identical reactions.

After a brief moment of thought, the little mage silently rose and slipped into performance Cultivation Mode.

As one of the Eight Kings, he had to display the same reaction—otherwise he would seem too unusual.

"Sss~ How terrifying."

(End of Chapter)