Chapter 257: The Divine Weapon, Overlord Sword: Ultimate Despair (Request Monthly Tickets)

The Frozen Winter Snowfield Battlefield.

This place is regarded by forum players as a newbie training ground, suitable only for novice growth and transition.

Once your strength reaches a certain stage, you have no choice but to leave.

At the current stage, the Lord of Bliss has dispatched a main god to oversee the Frozen Winter Snowfield region and observe the war’s direction.

The Lord of Bliss can tolerate players and the Bliss Worm Black Tide, Bliss Purple Black Tide warriors engaging in low-level brawls, but does not permit stronger entities.

As soon as a player’s strength exceeds the power threshold set by the Lord of Bliss, the stationed Bliss Main God will intervene.

Players have no means to resist the Bliss Main God.

They often enter the battlefield with murderous intent, but before they can even enjoy their slaughter, their vision is instantly swallowed by darkness, and they are teleported back to the black room.

After too many such incidents, veteran players no longer wish to come here.

Thus, forum players jokingly refer to the Frozen Winter Snowfield region as the “Newbie Training Ground,” and once players meet the strength requirement, they are expelled by the Lord of Blessings.

Because new player benefits are forbidden to veteran players.

At this moment, most players on the Frozen Winter Snowfield battlefield are from the Sen Luo Forest Realm, viewing this place as a transitional zone for growth.

Having grown accustomed to fighting plant-based lifeforms, the combat style of the Frozen Winter Snowfield appears brutally harsh to Sen Luo Forest Realm players.

Especially among lower-level players, their teeth chatter from the cold and their faces flush red during battle.

Unlike the small-scale combat of the Sen Luo Forest Realm, upon entering the Frozen Winter Snowfield battlefield, players are met with relentless, fearless waves of Bliss Evil Influences surging toward them.

Both sides fight with crude, unadorned styles, essentially exchanging bare-fisted blows.

As players put it: low-tier matches must have the rhythm appropriate to low-tier matches.

There is no battlefield command here.

Because any player squad or warband capable of commanding has already graduated from the Frozen Winter Snowfield.

Those who remain here are all newbie-level players.

On the ice field, muffled thuds rise and fall continuously—the sound of mutual brawling, like frozen salted fish slapping each other.

Not far away.

“Ambush!”

A player bursts out from a snowdrift, thrusting his metal-shard-clad right hand deep into the Bliss Evil Influence’s rear.

After landing the hit, the player tackles the evil influence into the snow, grabs a frozen food canister from the ground, and smashes it repeatedly against the creature’s skull.

Nearby players immediately join in, swinging their homemade weapons and launching a ferocious assault until the evil influence is slain.

Twenty meters away, two female players are grappling with a Bliss Evil Influence sprouting hair, pinning it to the ground and fighting fiercely.

In close-quarters combat, the strongest weapon is teeth.

During the brawl, their teeth strike intermittently, biting down viciously.

The intelligently upgraded evil influence also snaps its jaws open, revealing sharp fangs in retaliation, causing the female players to scream:

“Captain! Help! The evil influence is biting me!”

“I’m done with tanking! What kind of broken sect is this? The videos made it look so Rexue , but why does it feel completely different when I play? Ugh, it hurts so much!”

On another side, a Qiling Sect player notices his vitality nearly depleted, swings his scattered-arrow bow like a club, striking the Bliss Evil Influence’s Iron Face with a sharp crack, then wraps his arms around the creature and rolls with it across the snow.

From an overhead view, the Frozen Winter battlefield resembles a street brawl.

Everywhere on the snow, players and Bliss Evil Influences are tangled in chaotic tumbles; the regional voice channel buzzes with cheerful energy.

…

Frozen Winter Battlefield, northeast direction.

Gales howl, sweeping up layers of snowwaves.

Fine snowflakes swirl through the air, colliding and intertwining, blurring the boundary between heaven and earth.

At this moment, a figure leaps off a skateboard trailing colorful light.

Upon landing, the hovering skateboard automatically disassembles into pixel blocks that fly toward him, forming a white garment over his body.

After scanning his surroundings, Qiao Wu walks straight to a snow-covered tree.

He brushes off the snow clinging to his body and leans back against the trunk, sitting down.

He summons the map function.

He discovers he has entered the unexplored mist zone in the northeast of the Frozen Winter Snowfield.

After taking a screenshot, he opens his friend list and looks at the pinned group chat: “Pave the Air Wall Vanguard Team” (39 online).

Below the group name is a description: “An illegal organization specializing in mapping game boundaries.”

This is an internal communication group he formed with fellow exploration enthusiasts.

They frequently share breathtaking landscapes, bizarre discoveries, and odd anecdotes encountered during exploration.

Occasionally, he posts his compiled game background data in the group; if members deem it acceptable, he publishes it on the forum.

Their exploration faction’s income primarily comes from three sources.

Treasure hunting (opportunities), livestreaming (tips), and forum posts (tips)... with the majority of income derived from livestreaming and forum posts.

The forum mainly attracts traffic, serving as a driver to ensure a constant stream of viewers for his livestream.

Thus, background data supplements and exploration discoveries are all methods to draw traffic to the forum.

Just like the Explorer—he built his reputation early on through the forum, and now his livestream is permanently on the trending list, envied by many.

He opens the group chat, where new messages rapidly scroll:

Passing Fox: New underground cave discovered—there’s a kind of delicious mushroom here, but it doesn’t sell well. Still, there’s plenty of it; I should easily earn 3,500 soul-returning pills. Another win! Hey guys, check this out—does this mushroom have hidden, undiscovered value? I’m afraid I’m selling it too cheap (uploaded 8 screenshots).

Crystal Hunter: The scenery here is amazing, but the nearby monsters are too strong. Anyone want to team up? I’m too scared to go further—everything ahead is level 60+ monsters; if I push on, I’ll just get sent back to the village (shared coordinates).

Air Wall Inspector: Guys, this place is so beautiful—standing here at night, you can see the glowing backs of whale pods along the shore. I just wonder if they’re tasty (slurp~).

Little Trouble: I’m furious! Got chased for thirty streets, still got sent back to the village. Anyone send a soul-returning pill red packet to soothe my wounded soul? The kid’s almost starving—living on canned food every day, I’m getting skin and bones (Explorer clenches fist.jpg).

…

After posting the screenshot in the group, Qiao Wu waves his hand, and the chat shrinks automatically to the upper-right corner of his vision.

He then opens the forum, enters the “Explorer” livestream he follows, and pulls from his spatial inventory a spiritual food meal priced at 175 soul-returning pills on the trading market.

The food is wrapped in broad leaves from the Colorful Mist Coast.

Unwrapping the leaves, a warm orange glow rises, mixed with steaming mist.

Inside rests a semi-transparent crystal mushroom cake, adorned with a glowing, colorful tentacle from an aurora jellyfish, casting a gradient hue like flowing clouds across the cake.

It’s also sprinkled with star-spotted mushroom seeds baked in “Snowflake Salt” from the Frozen Winter Snowfield; as he inhales, a scent of caramelized walnuts blended with pine resin swirls through his nostrils.

“This is life.”

He murmured, then picked up the crystal mushroom cake and took a bite.

As the outer crust broke, the honey inside stretched into golden threads, dancing on his tongue with the tender, slippery aurora tentacle.

Each chew released the spiritual energy trapped in the mushroom seeds like popping candy, alternating with the hot honey syrup to release layered fragrances.

Even his exhaled breath carried tiny sparkling particles.

In just two or three bites, the 175 soul-returning pills were swallowed.

Still unsatisfied, he pulled out a cheap fish fillet from his spatial inventory and devoured it.

The lingering aftertaste of the crystal mushroom cake elevated the flavor of the spiritual fish meat.

After eating, a warm current rose in his stomach, surging through his meridians into every limb and extremity; his entire arm tingled, and heat even seeped from his fingernails.

He exhaled a white puff, its breath speckled with fine golden sparks that vanished instantly in the snowstorm.

Then his body crackled with a series of pops; a challenge notification for Duan Ti Jing experience echoed in his mind.

The inner-to-outer comfort made Qiao Wu stretch out with a blissful yawn.

Leaning back against the trunk, he closed his eyes, patted his belly, and continued savoring the warmth still circulating within him, yawning like a satisfied cat.

Snow fell heavily before his eyes; the aurora swirled across the sky.

His breathing grew slow and languid in the drowsy atmosphere; his eyelids grew heavier.

The warmth still flowing through his body gently massaged every muscle.

The sound of wind and snow faded from his ears, leaving only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the faint whisper of spiritual energy flowing through his blood.

His head unconsciously tilted slightly left—he jolted awake, muttering something under his breath.

But soon, waves of sleep overwhelmed him; his body slumped down the trunk, finally curling into the hollow beneath the roots.

Snow still fell heavily, but Qiao Wu slept with unusual peace.

When the cold air approached within three inches of his body, it quietly dissipated—as if blocked by an invisible barrier; his body had become a furnace of qi and blood.

After an unknown duration, Qiao Wu suddenly jolted awake from a vibration.

He opened his bleary eyes and looked toward the source of the sound.

At some point, a dark red broken sword had appeared ten meters ahead.

Slanted into the snow like divine punishment, its hilt buried in frozen earth, the broken portion extending three meters long—resembling an inverted dark red obelisk.

Dark red patterns coiled along the blade’s spine, like dried blood, radiating waves of malevolent energy; its surface was riddled with fine cracks.

When wind and snow neared the blade, they were torn apart by its emitted malevolence.

Then, drawn by invisible force, they spiraled around the blade, forming a pale vortex.

“Cool!”

【Divine Weapon Clan - Overlord Sword】:

Hunting Level: 103 (Severely wounded, near death).

Target Description: A sentient lifeform created by the Rule “Divine Weapon,” possessing intelligence. It gains power by consuming the despair, pain, and other negative emotions of its host. The stronger the host’s negative emotions, the more power the divine weapon absorbs (without a host, the divine weapon cannot unleash its full power).

Growth Cultivation Mode: In its early stage, it disguises itself as a masterless divine weapon, emitting alluring power fluctuations to attract targets to pick it up.

The hilt concealed backward barbs that pierced the host’s palm upon first grip, completing the “Blood Pact Binding.”

In the early stage, it would return a small amount of spiritual power to the host, aiding the host in forging their flesh and earning trust.

Symbiosis Stage (Growth Phase): Gradually eroding the host’s will, reading the host’s thoughts, and inducing the host to use it frequently in battle.

Each time a living being is slain under the host’s control, it can devour the slain being’s flesh and spiritual energy.

It can also gain an additional layer of rule-derived power through the host’s physical and mental suffering (the stronger the host, the stronger the target, the greater the feedback), and it returns a portion of this power to the host, creating the illusion of “Host and Sword as One,” thereby strengthening trust.

Counterattack Stage (Mature Form):

It manipulates the host’s behavior, inducing pain, despair, rage, and other emotions until the host collapses emotionally, completing the rule’s growth feedback loop and ultimately returning to the hands of the Artifact Clan.

…

After reading the analysis, Qiao Wu paused in surprise.

He had thought he had triggered a hidden opportunity in the game, but never imagined it was a hidden trap.

This Baqi -looking broken sword was capable of devouring its host’s growth.

The analysis clearly stated that harming the host was one way the broken sword obtained rule-generated energy.

Qiao Wu found this unsurprising.

Just as the Ni Chao Legion gained war power through warfare, the Ancient Gods gained Dou Hun power through the Arena, A Le generated Ji Le power through the Entertainment City, and Shu Yan gained attention by writing stories… these acts seemed bizarre, but fundamentally all followed the logic of rule-generated energy production.

The Artifact’s rule was clearly another such case—requiring the artifact to harm its host to complete the rule’s operational feedback loop and generate rule energy.

The more suffering the host endured, the more power the artifact gained.

“Interesting.”

While Qiao Wu observed the Ba Jian, the severely wounded and broken Ba Jian was also observing Qiao Wu.

Its shattered body had reached its limit; it urgently needed a host to restore its injuries and obtain rule energy.

And Qiao Wu, standing not far away, was its chosen temporary transitional host.

From the fluctuations in blood qi and spiritual energy, the Ba Jian made a clear judgment: the opponent was extremely weak.

But that was precisely what it wanted.

Only the weak would crave greater power.

Upon encountering it, they would see it as an opportunity, allowing it the chance to accompany their growth and gradually build trust.

A stronger individual would merely view it as a weapon, making absolute trust nearly impossible.

Recalling its recent experience, the Ba Jian felt frustrated.

The incident began half a year ago.

After changing hosts again, it descended upon a valley surrounded by mountains.

Within it stood a small village established by a descent faction.

It had met its previous host there.

The host was a young member of an alien race with silver-gray fur, who was being beaten by a group of dark-brown-furred tribesmen when they first met.

They tore at his fur—unlike that of other tribe members—and spat insults: “Unlucky mongrel.”

The boy curled into a ball, his golden pupils gleaming with defiance, yet not uttering a single plea.

After secretly observing, the Ba Jian decided then and there: this was the next host it sought.

When the battered boy later licked his wounds alone at the cliff’s edge, it manifested from the darkness and initiated contact.

It chose the boy primarily for his simple, easily manipulated nature and his ostracized status within his tribe.

Their first contact was the Artifact Clan’s unique “Blood Oath Binding,” disguised as a unique artifact, promising to grant the boy power and respect, while secretly planning to gradually destroy his hope.

In fact, even the binding process was meaningless—its true purpose was to deceive the host and facilitate reading the host’s inner thoughts.

This binding method could be undone in countless ways.

Then, it began its path of deception.

First, it guided the alien youth into dangerous training, using hunting and other methods to obtain feedback power, absorbing the boy’s negative emotions in desperate situations.

During the trust-building process, it secretly sowed discord between the alien youth and his tribe, deepening his isolation.

Subtle influence caused the boy, once deeply devoted to his tribe, to develop intense resentment toward them.

During this time, the Ba Jian also released power to influence the tribe members, reinforcing their belief that the boy brought misfortune.

For example, once it deliberately guided the boy to challenge a monster infected by plague, causing him to be cursed.

During treatment, it secretly intensified the curse’s effects, creating the illusion that the tribe refused to help—or even deliberately sabotaged him.

Through one incident after another, accumulated anger and despair eventually shattered the alien youth’s psychological defenses.

At that moment, it stoked the flames, releasing power to ignite the suppressed rage within the boy.

Ultimately, the boy exploded under repression.

The Ba Jian clearly remembered that night.

The village became a sea of fire; the emotionally Shikong boy, wielding it, slaughtered every single tribesman.

When consciousness returned, only endless regret and despair remained.

The boy knelt before the village, pounding the ground as he wept and wailed over the burning ruins, his negative emotions reaching their peak.

But to the Ba Jian, this was a perfect feast.

The “Artifact Rule-Derived Imprint” within it continuously devoured negative emotions, feeding it greater power and enabling rapid growth.

But the host was not yet broken—its game continued.

Afterwards, it drove the boy away from the village, filled with pain and memories in its eyes.

During his wandering days, it constantly lured the boy into perilous lands, tempting him to seek treasures.

For instance, in a poisonous forest thick with miasma, ferocious monsters lurked.

Under its urging, the boy struggled deeper inside.

The miasma continuously corroded his body, causing dizziness and blurred vision; monsters launched sporadic attacks, and soon his body was covered in countless wounds.

Yet it whispered constantly, telling the boy it sensed treasures deep within the forest, forcing him to grit his teeth and press forward.

The boy’s scattered suffering was its source of joy.

When the boy finally found the so-called treasure, it was in fact a sealed deadly creature—a weapon crafted by some tribe for lethal purposes.

It deliberately concealed the truth it had sensed, causing the boy to touch the seal and release the poisonous creature.

The boy fought desperately but gradually weakened due to prior exhaustion.

At the critical moment, it feigned awakening from slumber to assist, slaying the creature—but the boy was left severely wounded, his body and spirit grievously damaged.

Afterward, it guided the alien youth to exchange life force for temporary bursts of power, leaving irreversible pain scars after each use.

But it lied, claiming the pain was proof of strength.

In truth, it merely wanted the alien youth to endure more suffering and secrete more negative emotions.

But what shattered the alien youth most was meeting, during his wandering, another alien wanderer with a similar fate.

The Ba Jian clearly remembered the wanderer named “Li Zheng”: he had long, slender ears, a petite, delicate frame, and a fluffy tail growing from his back.

According to Li Zheng’s account, his tribe, after their homeland world was corrupted by darkness, had gambled everything to descend into the Monster World.

But upon arrival, they were immediately struck by annihilation.

He was the sole survivor of his tribe; he had no family left in this world.

Yet when they first met, their relationship was hostile—they fought fiercely, each viewing the other as dangerous.

But just as their battle intensified, a giant monster suddenly attacked, forcing them to temporarily cooperate.

The boy held the monster’s attention head-on, while Li Zheng swiftly circled behind and stabbed its vital point with a poisoned blade.

After the battle, both were wounded, lying weakly on the ground, their wary gazes gradually softening into exhaustion and resignation.

Perhaps seeing the same loneliness and sorrow in each other’s eyes, they ceased attacking.

Surrounded by various monsters, they eventually decided to travel together temporarily, though still keeping their distance.

In fact, at this point, the alien youth and Li Zheng could barely communicate properly.

With no shared language, they could only communicate clumsily through gestures.

Later, the Ba Jian taught them how to converse via spiritual communication.

This was not done out of kindness, but to plant a hidden thread in its plan.

Afterwards, the two moved in Moqi .

Whenever danger approached, the boy would step in front of Li Zheng, shielding her with his body.

Li Zheng, in turn, would use his keen sense of smell to find nearby herbs and treat the boy’s wounds during rest.

Once, while exploring, they were ambushed by a group of powerful monsters.

Facing the snarling beasts lunging at them, the boy intended to charge alone to draw their attention, letting Li Zheng escape—but Li Zheng refused stubbornly, slashing with his claws and choosing to fight alongside the boy.

During the fierce battle, Li Zheng was struck by a monster and fell to the ground.

In the critical moment, the Ba Jian granted the boy power, successfully repelling the monster.

After this battle, their bond grew deeper.

Each night, they would huddle together for warmth, sharing fragments of their memories.

Li Zheng would tell the boy ancient legends of his tribe; the boy would listen intently, occasionally sharing his own confusion about the future.

In their wandering years, they became each other’s only solace, warming each other, jointly resisting this cold, dying world—loneliness and sorrow gradually dissolving in this profound friendship.

To the boy, Li Zheng was like a beam of light piercing the dark world, illuminating the eternal night he had long grown accustomed to.

Before this, the boy had grown used to licking his wounds alone, used to arming himself with anger.

The Ba Jian still remembered its first reaction when Li Zheng clumsily bandaged the boy’s wounds: it had slapped his hand away.

When Li Zheng stubbornly offered him his last piece of dried rations, it had cursed him bitterly for meddling.

But this beam of light was too stubborn.

On a certain stormy night, when the boy curled up trembling in a tree hollow due to his old wounds flaring up, Li Zheng braved the danger of monster attacks to gather herbs outside, returning drenched, his trembling fingers carefully applying medicine to the boy.

This was the first time the boy had not refused.

Amid the bitter scent of the herbs, the boy smelled the odor of rainwater mixed with blood on Li Zheng’s body.

To gather the herbs, Li Zheng’s arms were slashed bloody by monster claws.

“Why?” the boy asked, his voice choked with sobs—he had never felt warmth before.

Li Zheng merely gently wiped the cold sweat from its forehead and whispered:

“Mother said, when it rains, wounds hurt.”

A simple sentence made the boy’s body shake uncontrollably.

Only then did the boy realize that someone still remembered it could hurt.

That night, Li Zheng leaned against the boy’s shoulder, its furry ears occasionally twitching, brushing against the boy’s neck.

The even rhythm of its breathing, mixed with the soft crackling of the bonfire, became the boy’s most soothing lullaby.

When the boy woke from pain, Li Zheng awoke too, ruffled its head, and smiled: “Mother said, sleeping in the rain brings the sweetest dreams.”

Then it yawned and fell back asleep.

A warm sensation came from the fingertips—Li Zheng had unconsciously gripped its hand in sleep.

The boy did not pull away; instead, he gently curled his fingers, enclosing Li Zheng’s small palm in his own.

The bonfire gradually dimmed, but at that moment, the boy felt warmer than ever before.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

The rain still fell, yet the world grew silent, leaving only the sound of their heartbeats.

In the final moment before falling asleep, the boy vaguely thought: If only this moment could last forever.

Gradually, the boy began to look forward to the appearance of this light.

In the days spent together, Li Zheng’s sly smile as it taught the boy to identify edible mushrooms, the warmth of its head resting on its shoulder during night watch, the unspoken Moqi during battle when they stood back-to-back—these small fragments of warmth were like sparks, slowly melting the ice encasing the boy’s heart.

One morning, as Li Zheng hummed a lullaby while weaving a flower crown, the boy realized he was smiling.

This discovery startled him, yet he could not help but crave this unfamiliar feeling.

The boy began to have expectations.

He looked forward to tomorrow’s sunrise, to the next resting place, to every moment spent with Li Zheng.

Ba Jian silently observed all of this, always waiting for an opportunity.

As a divine artifact that manipulated the host’s emotions, it understood perfectly what true despair was.

Watching the deepening bond between the boy and Li Zheng, a cruel plan took shape within it.

It knew that for the boy, who had long dwelled in darkness, prolonged suffering had already numbed him.

What could truly crush him was regaining hope, then watching it shatter before his eyes, plunging him back into darkness.

One night, Ba Jian seized its chance and acted.

It unleashed its unique allure, drawing a squad of alien beings.

The boy and Li Zheng, caught completely off guard, were surrounded by the alien squad and forced into a desperate battle.

During the fight, Li Zheng aided from the side, their coordination flawless.

Facing certain death, they burned with the hope of survival, convinced that with unity, they could break through the encirclement.

In the midst of battle, the boy, wielding the power granted to him, became a fearless beast, charging through the alien ranks and momentarily halting their assault.

Li Zheng, with its agile movements, expertly supported the boy—their teamwork was seamless.

But the Black Tide of battle ultimately turned against them.

Facing the aliens’ ferocious onslaught and seeing Li Zheng’s wounds multiply, the boy’s heart swelled with furious rage.

At that moment, Ba Jian subtly exerted its influence, quietly disrupting the boy’s mind.

As the battle continued, the boy’s emotions spiraled out of control.

His eyes gradually turned blood-red; his reason dissolved under Ba Jian’s mental assault.

At this point, the boy resembled the demon that had slaughtered the village that night—his mind consumed only by endless bloodlust.

When the boy slaughtered the aliens, Li Zheng, sensing his abnormality, panicked and rushed to his side regardless of danger, trying to awaken him from his descent.

But Li Zheng’s desperate shouts reached no ears—the boy heard nothing.

In Ba Jian’s control, the crazed boy spun around and drove his blade straight into Li Zheng’s chest.

Ba Jian remembered that moment clearly—time seemed to freeze. Li Zheng’s eyes filled with disbelief and shock, too late to dodge.

The blade pierced Li Zheng’s chest without resistance, blood spurting forth and splattering across the boy’s Iron Face.

At that instant, Ba Jian released its control over the boy’s emotions.

When the boy regained his senses and saw the horror before him, he plunged instantly into despair.

He trembled as he knelt on the ground, clutching Li Zheng’s cooling body, lips quivering, unable to utter a single sound.

In Ba Jian’s reading, every memory of time spent with Li Zheng—every warm, beautiful moment—surged through the boy’s mind like a tidal wave.

He wanted to scream, to weep—but his throat was choked shut, leaving only a hoarse whimper.

The boy’s tears flowed uncontrollably, blurring his vision.

Ba Jian knew: the boy’s world had collapsed utterly in this moment.

Slowly, the boy lowered his head, pressing his Iron Face against Li Zheng’s, feeling the warmth fading from its body.

In that instant, the boy’s despair became an endless black hole, swallowing him whole.

Having personally killed the only person he cherished in this world, this sin would forever haunt him, torturing every second of his remaining life with unending despair, with no escape.

The cruelest thing is not never having known warmth, but having truly touched the light, then Qinshou pushing yourself back into the abyss.

Listening to the boy’s desperate wails in the rain, Ba Jian savored an exquisite feast of negative emotions.

That meal was so delicious.

After that, the host was broken.

The utterly numb boy became a walking corpse; Ba Jian had to stop him from suicide multiple times, and eventually lost patience.

It realized such a host had lost all value.

It had also grown significantly from the boy’s suffering, and when the boy encountered danger again during his wandering, it departed without mercy.

It left the boy to lie bleeding in the mud, devoured by monsters.

Originally, it planned to leave the boy and seek a new host, beginning a new cycle of torment.

But as it flew over the Frozen Winter Plains, it noticed fierce battle erupting beneath the snow.

One side’s troops bore a resemblance to the Black Black Tide, yet clearly were not its evil spawn—something deeply strange about them.

As it flew over the battlefield, a purple-skinned lifeform suddenly shot upward from below.

Its life force was extraordinarily potent—such a powerful being was unsuitable as a host; realizing capture would mean becoming a tool, it fought with all its strength to escape.

The purple-skinned creature showed no interest in it, glanced at it once, then slapped it through the air and turned back.

But that seemingly casual slap shattered it—barely escaping death.

Even now, thinking of it sent shivers down its spine.

Currently, it was severely wounded and urgently needed rule energy and blood qi to heal.

Its awareness swept toward the weak lifeform approaching it—Ba Jian’s fangs coiled, ready to strike.

“You’re it—the next host. I hope we’ll enjoy a pleasant journey together!”

(End of Chapter)