Chapter 304: The Rule Demon Seed, I Bestow Upon You Destruction (Requesting Monthly Votes)

Under the guidance of the replay, the scene of the Tianyuan Domain node rewound in Qi Sheng’s eyes.

Like a film playing in reverse.

The scene returned to before the Rule Troop’s birth, when Di Nian Evil Spirit received a message from Gui Ya.

It learned that Gui Ya had destroyed an entire clan during a plundering war, and later discovered a teleportation array beneath the city where that clan had lived.

It connected to a minor world.

That clan seemed to be plotting something, but before their plan could be fully enacted, they were exterminated by Gui Ya and the Black Black Tide Evil Influences.

And the minor world that clan had been monitoring also appeared unusually peculiar.

Driven by curiosity, Di Nian Evil Spirit used a consciousness projection to follow Gui Ya to the teleportation array connected to the minor world and launched an investigation.

Seeing this, Qi Sheng’s consciousness also passed through the teleportation array’s passage and descended into the minor world.

Upon entering the minor world, Qi Sheng was astonished to discover.

The world’s intensity was low, yet it was a realm where the flow of time differed entirely from the mainstream world—and even from the Void.

Even stranger, the entire world had been designed as an invisible grand array.

It resembled the Lingxi Clan’s act of fleeing toward the Monster World and refining their own world, yet many differences remained.

He could sense that this world concealed Rule energy.

…

Demon Seed World, Eighth Epoch.

A Luo curled in the darkest corner of the dungeon, nibbling meagerly on moldy food.

Hard straw mercilessly pierced his ulcerated wounds, skin and stalks fused into scabs; every slight movement brought piercing pain.

The damp stench of mold mingled with the reek of rotting flesh, nearly suffocating him.

Hanging from the iron chain above his head was a half-arm.

Maggots writhed densely—those of the blacksmith executed three days prior.

He had merely wanted to forge a sickle to trade for food to save his sick mother, yet was arrested by city guards for “illegally forging weapons.”

He died here after enduring extreme torture.

A Luo, who witnessed all this, felt only fear.

Though he had committed only theft, it was enough reason to sentence him to death.

As thoughts churned, hunger surged with overwhelming drowsiness, sweeping over him.

In a daze, he seemed to see his sister A Rou squatting before their home, tracing crooked characters in the sand with a twig, sunlight gilding her hair with a warm halo.

His sister was the last thread of warmth in this cold world.

Just then, the crack of a whip and a scream from the neighboring cell shattered his memories, like a nightmare repeatedly piercing his nerves.

He buried his Iron Face deep in his knees, fingernails nearly digging into his palms.

“Brother, I only took a small packet—Old Chen had been coughing up blood for three days; if she doesn’t get treatment soon, it’ll be too late.”

In his mind surfaced A Rou’s tiny, frostbitten hands tugging at his patched sleeve.

A Rou’s theft had not escaped the guards’ investigation; ultimately, he chose to take her place and was imprisoned in this pitch-dark dungeon.

When—or if—he would be released remained unknown.

Perhaps… he would remain here for life, until he rotted and died.

“Number 327.”

At that moment, the rusted iron door was kicked open; A Luo instinctively curled up.

The guard’s lantern illuminated A Luo’s gaunt, ghostly Iron Face.

“The execution ground needs a corpse collector—you’re lucky. Come with me.”

A Luo struggled to rise; his hunched spine groaned under the strain.

The guard impatiently jabbed his shoulder blade with an iron rod; A Luo stumbled into the damp stone wall but forced himself upright, following behind as the guard cursed.

As he stepped out of the prison and through the dim corridor.

Moonlight sliced diagonally through the window.

A Luo saw his shadow cast on the wall—bony contours like a skeleton wrapped in human skin.

The guard’s lantern swept past the interrogation chamber, revealing suspended figures, their agonized cries rising and falling.

“Don’t look at those wastes. Do your job well, and this place has nothing to do with you,” the guard sneered.

A Luo remained silent, following the guard down a sloping corridor.

Arriving at the second underground layer, he received tools from the storage room with the guard, then carried a wooden bucket full of water to the execution ground.

The guard pushed open the heavy iron door; the hinges screeched.

The execution platform inside was oval, paved with quartz bricks soaked in blood; a central depression held a drain, its edges caked with black-red blood residue.

“Every bloodstain must be wiped clean. Every fragment of flesh must be picked up. Understood?”

A Luo nodded silently, stepped onto the platform, knelt down, and pulled out a bristle brush from the bucket to begin working.

Water seeped through the cracks, carrying away tiny bone fragments; he mechanically repeated the motion, the brush leaving fan-shaped water trails on the ground.

“Hurry up. Three more execution grounds in the West District await cleaning. Afterward, dump all the remains into the Demon Cavern.”

Hearing “Demon Cavern,” A Luo shuddered.

He had heard rumors of this place.

It was said to be the Black Rock City Lord’s alchemical pool—every life thrown inside was refined.

To extract more life energy, the city lord’s divine officials and guards arrested citizens under various pretexts, executed them, and cast their bodies into the Demon Cavern for refinement.

This was the final fate of every prisoner.

But at least now, he still had value to live.

A Luo worked harder.

He did not want to die here—he still wanted to reunite with A Rou. As long as there was a single glimmer of hope, he would never abandon it.

…

In the days that followed, A Luo became the dungeon’s cleaner.

He witnessed many horrifying scenes.

Prisoners were executed for absurd reasons, their lives treated like trash, their final value being thrown into the Demon Cavern pit for refinement.

The guards had long lost their minds, even taking pleasure in it, betting on how long the next prisoner could endure.

Each day of this life filled A Luo with dread.

He endured the inhuman torment within the prison.

In his silence, a flame still burned deep in A Luo’s heart.

The hope that kept him going, beyond fear, was his sister A Rou, alone outside.

He buried all his grievances and pain deep within, continuing to play the numb puppet of the dungeon.

Three months later, A Luo heard a rumor.

A guard, drunk, teased him that diligent prisoners like him might earn “special pardon” to work in the mines if they performed even better.

The guard emphasized:

“The City Lord is merciful—he always gives sinners a glimmer of hope.”

This rumor seeped into A Luo’s numb heart like poison, planting a faint new hope for the future.

If he became a miner, he would at least have a chance to live, perhaps even visit his sister occasionally—better than dying here.

He began working even harder, awaiting the City Lord’s “mercy.”

One day, half a year later.

A Luo still mechanically scrubbed the never-drying bloodstains on the execution ground’s quartz bricks.

The stench of decay had become part of his breath; each inhale felt like chewing death.

That sliver of “pardon” hope the guard had drunkenly revealed was a flickering light in the darkness.

Though faint, it clung desperately to his dying heart.

He scrubbed fiercely, the bristle brush scraping the cracks with a grating sound—as if he could scrub away his own “sin,” and carve out a faint path to the mines, to A Rou’s side.

“Hurry up. Other execution grounds still need cleaning,” the guard’s shout came with the dull thud of an iron rod striking his spine.

A Luo nodded hard, quickening his pace.

To survive—for A Rou. As long as he could escape this pitch-dark dungeon, even if it meant going to the mines… this was his only thought now.

Just then, the heavy iron door of the execution chamber was violently shoved open again.

The familiar clanking of chains and the guard’s rough shoving echoed.

A Luo instinctively buried his head lower, curling up, wanting to vanish into the shadows.

He did not want to see, dared not see—who would be sent to hell next.

Others’ suffering brought no joy, only terror.

Just then.

A weak, childish voice, trembling with sobs, like a lightning bolt splitting the darkness, shattered all his numbness and pretense:

“Your Excellency… please, I beg you.”

The familiar voice amplified in A Luo’s ear; a vivid, youthful image instantly flashed in his mind.

His blood seemed to freeze, then surged violently upward in the next instant.

He jerked his head up, so sharply he nearly snapped his neck.

Under the dim lantern light, the slender, frail figure, carried like a chick by the towering guard, was streaked with tears.

This was the younger sister he had dreamed of day and night, the one he would have sacrificed everything to protect: A Rou.

“A Rou!”

A desperate roar erupted from the depths of A Luo’s throat.

Like a beast utterly stripped of reason, he hurled away the bloodstained brush and lunged with all his strength toward the tiny figure, heedless of everything.

Fear and the hope of pardon were cast far beyond the clouds.

Thud!

A heavy iron rod, whistling through the air with a tearing sound, struck his lower shin with precise, brutal force.

The crisp snap of shattering bone was clearly audible; the agony robbed him of balance, and he crashed heavily onto the cold blue stone floor.

He felt no pain in his leg—only his hands, clawing desperately at the blood-soaked ground.

His nails scraped against the hard bricks as he dragged his broken body forward, his Iron Face and arms caked with blood and mud.

“Let go of A Rou! Take me instead! Spare her!” he screamed until his voice cracked, tears mingling with the grime on his Iron Face, his eyes locked unblinkingly on the frail, slender figure.

She was the only light in this hell, the sole meaning of his existence—he would never allow A Rou to be hurt.

A Rou saw him too.

Those once clear, warm eyes now held only utter terror and helplessness.

“Wah… A Luo… I’m so scared.” Seeing his pitiful state, his sister’s tears poured like a dam broken, unstoppable.

At that moment, the priest clad in pitch-black robes stepped calmly to the center of the execution platform.

His gaze was hollow and icy; as it swept over A Luo, writhing like a worm on the ground, not a flicker of emotion stirred in his eyes—as if he were staring at filthy trash.

His voice was not loud, yet it drowned out all other noise:

“Silence!”

The words echoed across the blood-slicked execution ground:

“This woman showed no reverence as the Lord Mayor’s carriage passed—this is an insult to the Lord Mayor’s glory, an unforgivable grave crime, punishable by death…”

The priest paid no heed to A Luo’s heart-wrenching pleas; his cold eyes fixed on the terrified A Rou, as if inspecting a defective item destined for destruction.

Then he turned and gave a slight nod to the executioner, standing motionless beside him, expressionless:

“Proceed.”

“No! Please, I’ll do anything! Don’t kill my sister!”

A Luo’s scream dissolved into a despairing wail, powerless to change anything.

Eyes bulging, he watched helplessly as guards pinned A Rou to the execution platform, and the executioner raised the massive, crescent-shaped blade.

“For the glory and purity of Black Rock City,” the priest’s voice coldly pronounced the final verdict.

The blade fell.

Time seemed to freeze in that instant.

A Luo saw the despair and confusion in A Rou’s eyes.

Finally, the light within them faded.

Her small head separated from her body, rolling to the ground, smeared with dust and blood.

It tumbled a few times before coming to rest just before A Luo’s outstretched, trembling fingers.

Its empty eyes stared directly at him, frozen in the final moment of confusion and paralyzing fear—as if asking:

“Brother… why?”

The hope he had believed within reach collapsed violently within A Luo’s inner world.

The guards’ sneers, the priest’s verdict, his own heartbeat—all vanished.

Before him remained only A Rou’s lifeless eyes, fixed unblinkingly upon him.

The scalding blood within him seemed instantly drained, replaced by a bone-chilling cold that flooded every limb and vein.

He stopped crawling, stopped screaming, frozen in place—a clay doll with its soul ripped away—his hollow eyes locked on his sister’s head.

The priest stepped slowly toward A Luo, now utterly rigid, looking down upon him with condescension.

On his pale Iron Face appeared a faint, utterly false smile of “pity.”

“A pitiful, wretched worm.”

The priest’s voice slithered like a serpent’s hiss into A Luo’s deadened consciousness:

“This is the price of blasphemy. Your continued existence is solely due to the Lord Mayor’s mercy.”

The priest bent down, lowering his voice further, dripping with mockery:

“I know it was your sister who stole the pill. That pill’s value far exceeds your worthless life.”

He straightened, resuming his icy demeanor:

“By the way—you’ve always been so diligent. Then you shall personally escort your sister to her end. Take her, and all your other trash, to where they belong. This is their final worth.”

The priest finished speaking and cast not another glance at A Luo.

As if disposing of an insignificant trifle, he turned and walked away.

The guards sneered and advanced, violently tossing a reed basket reeking of thick blood and rot beside A Luo:

“Waste, did you hear the priest? Put your sister—and these—” He jabbed his iron rod toward the pile of severed limbs and scattered body parts in the corner of the execution ground:

“—all inside. Take them to the Demon Cavern. Move quickly!”

A Luo’s body twitched. He painfully dragged himself toward A Rou’s remains.

With trembling hands, he struggled to lift her still-warm, slender body and gently placed it into the basket.

Then he slowly crawled toward her head.

As if cradling a fragile treasure, he carefully placed it into the basket. Then, like a puppet programmed with fixed instructions, he began mechanically performing his duties as always.

Dragging his broken leg, he crawled to the corner of the execution ground, picking up each scattered limb and tossing them into the massive basket.

The guards impatiently shouted and cursed, their iron rods striking him at intervals—but he showed no reaction, repeating the motions with numb detachment.

The basket was full.

Cold limbs, mixed with A Rou’s tiny remains, piled atop one another.

The guard tossed a rough hemp rope before him:

“Slip it over your shoulders. Drag it to the entrance of the Demon Cavern. Don’t even think of slacking.”

A Luo silently looped the rope over his shoulders, the fibers biting into his rotting skin.

Hunched over, he used every last shred of strength to drag the impossibly heavy basket.

Every step sent searing pain through his broken leg; the rope around his shoulders felt as if it would snap his bones.

The basket scraped along the ground, emitting a harsh grating sound; dark red, viscous fluid seeped from its bottom, leaving a trail of blood behind him—a path leading straight to hell.

He passed through a sloping passage, where hot air mixed with the stench of blood, charred flesh, and medicinal herbs.

The scent of death grew thicker.

At the passage’s end lay a vast, deep, crimson cavern mouth.

This was the entrance to the Demon Cavern.

The guard pointed to the bottomless pit:

“There. Waste, shove the basket down.”

A Luo stood at the edge of the pit; the hot wind blew through his tattered clothes and matted hair.

He looked down one final time at his sister inside the basket. His eyes held no sorrow, no anger, no fear.

Only stillness.

He unfastened the rope from his shoulders.

With his last ounce of strength, he pushed the basket—carrying his only remaining attachment in this world, and all the darkness and despair of this world—toward the abyss.

The basket tilted, rolled, and plunged into the devouring depths.

A Rou’s tiny remains, mixed with the cold limbs of others, shrank rapidly in the crimson glow, blurred, and vanished into the churning, boiling blood-magma below—becoming nourishment for the Lord Mayor’s power.

A Luo stood at the pit’s edge, staring at the spot where his sister had vanished.

The scorching wind licked his exposed skin like the tongue of hell.

The roaring of the molten magma below sounded like the silent wailing of countless tormented souls.

The last warmth in his heart, along with every meaning of his life, had been pushed by his own hands into this irredeemable abyss.

His inner world became utterly silent.

The roar of the Demon Cavern’s furnace and the beat of his own heart grew faint, almost imperceptible.

Behind him, the guard let out an impatient sneer:

“Still staring? If you can’t bear to let go, why not join her down there?”

A Luo gave no answer. His eyes, devoid of any emotion, turned toward the guard.

Join her?

Those two words, like a cold pebble, dropped into his frozen heart-Firefly Lake—yet stirred not a ripple, leaving only a chilling echo.

Yes.

I should go with A Rou.

This filthy, twisted world—a place that feeds on the innocent—what is there left worth clinging to?

The thought of release quietly surfaced in his heart.

Death was no longer the end of fear—it was the only path to end this boundless suffering.

Perhaps the afterlife the priest spoke of might be the place where he and A Rou could reunite.

At that moment, he leapt—resolutely throwing himself into the boiling mouth of hell.

In the instant the sensation of weightlessness struck, a searing current of air, thick with a nauseating sweet stench, slammed into his Iron Face; Alo’s hollow eyes reflected the boiling magma drawing ever closer below.

It seemed as if he could see countless twisted, agonized faces screaming within the flames.

There were blacksmiths, prisoners from next door shrieking in torment, countless nameless wretches… and also Rou.

Next, his own body—completely hollowed out by despair—would merge into it.

The agony of burning awakened the last fragment within his consciousness—not love or hope, but a rage long suppressed to its absolute limit.

Unjust laws, hypocritical divine authority, the tyrant lord’s cruel rule, cruel and numb accomplices… and this monstrous world itself, built upon lies and oppression.

With no more hesitation in his heart, the suppressed rage erupted like a volcanic blast.

Though the fury burned fiercely, he knew his own insignificance and powerlessness—he could change nothing.

But helplessness bred even fiercer rage, driving him to seek release only in destruction:

“Let it be… let all of this… turn to ash.”

Wind howled past his ears; the breath of death filled his mouth and nose.

Pain devoured his flesh; fury tormented his mind.

At the very moment his life was about to end, Alo suddenly felt time freeze.

He felt his body and consciousness trembling; thick, ink-like blackness obscured his vision and surged into his mind.

In a haze of consciousness, he suddenly heard a heartbeat.

It was not his own—it was the thunderous rumble of an ancient beast crushing the crust.

His consciousness then plunged into chaos.

In an instant, a colossal black tower suddenly pierced his mind.

Its peak pierced a sky like a sea of blood; its body was entwined with churning black mist; every brick and stone was inscribed with cursed spirit runes.

Then, a blood-red crescent moon rose behind the tower, hanging high in the sky, pouring forth endless crimson light.

Beneath the blood moon, on the platform atop the tower, he saw a being beyond comprehension.

It had no definite form—only a silhouette of condensed black mist, with two dark red pupils burning with karmic fire, gazing across the barrier of space toward him.

More accurately, this was not gazing—it was crushing.

Merely the weight of its gaze caused him pain at the level of his consciousness.

The eyes within the black mist grew brighter, like two dark red suns burning in the night.

Under the gaze of those eyes, Alo felt himself as insignificant as dust.

Merely the touch of its gaze made his remaining consciousness tremble uncontrollably—as if confronted by the most vicious beast in all creation.

The ultimate evil aura surged like an invisible tsunami, violently slamming into his spiritual sea.

At that moment, a sinister, hoarse voice sounded at his ear:

“Petty creature, I have heard your despair, your hatred, your longing.”

As it spoke, the monstrous silhouette hovering above the tower blazed with sudden brilliance.

The flames in its eyes became mirrors, clearly reflecting every darkest moment from Alo’s memories.

Rou’s despairing eyes, the cleric’s evil, the guards’ brutality, the countless twisted faces in the magma… and the rage still rising within him.

“You desire the power to burn the world, to annihilate all things—I can give it to you. But once your goal is achieved, your body, your soul, every trace of your existence… shall belong to me.”

“So… are you willing?”

A grotesque smile surfaced on the demon god’s blurred Iron Face.

To Alo, this question sounded like the final salvation offered by a god to a drowning man… even if it was a demon god.

At this moment, Alo’s consciousness was already overflowing with ultimate pain and fury.

All his hopes and struggles had turned to dust the instant Rou died.

In his mind, only the vengeful fire to burn everything remained.

Under the gaze of those abyssal eyes, Alo’s remaining consciousness coalesced its most insane desire—like a dying man’s final leap—toward the abyss that promised utter ruin:

“I am willing, I am willing, take all I am—give me the power!”

“Burn it all!”

Alo screamed, repeating “willing.”

“Deal. Enjoy your next game… Demon Seed.”

The demon god’s silhouette above the tower gave a slight nod, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

The deal was sealed.

Behind the demon god, a vast evil eye emerged, its dark red pupil flaring violently—as if ready to ignite his consciousness.

The ultimate evil power ignored spatial barriers and instantly pierced Alo’s consciousness, searing itself into the deepest depths of his spiritual sea.

The Black Black Tide transformation began.

Alo’s body was engulfed by black mist tearing through space; his skin rapidly carbonized and peeled away; black flame replaced his blood, flowing within; new black skin covered his entire body.

His arms then disintegrated; black bones twisted and grew like living things, eventually forming two demonic claws covered in dark red scales, burning with ghostly flame.

His body underwent its most violent reshaping.

In the instant his eyeballs burst, two dark red flames rose from his eye sockets, blazing fiercely, burning his visual nerves.

Amid ultimate pain, Alo, suspended above the magma, erupted into mad laughter.

When pain reached its peak… the rage power gradually subsided.

Alo completed his rebirth within the demon cave’s flames—or rather, a vessel of destruction, carrying Alo’s final obsession, was born.

He jerked his head up, his eyes burning with black Black Tide demon flame, fixed on the tiny exit above the demon cave’s furnace.

The pact with the demon god was complete.

Next came the judgment of this decaying world.

The next instant, Alo moved.

His body levitated, then slammed down toward the hellish furnace below, where flesh and blood were melted.

BOOM!

Black mist spread in a ring centered on his right leg; the entire demon cave furnace was instantly covered in spiderweb-like black cracks.

The terrifying force shattered the entire demon cave with violent tremors.

Above the city, all living beings heard a muffled boom from deep underground.

Immediately after, the ground above the dungeon suddenly bulged upward.

The stone-paved square cracked like a fragile eggshell; a black-red fire column over a hundred meters in diameter erupted from below.

As the earth shook and mountains trembled, the entire underground structure of Black Rock City suffered a catastrophic impact.

Countless buildings collapsed amid violent shaking; screams and wails instantly shattered the city’s false tranquility.

At the top of the fire column, a figure slowly stretched its body, landing upon a throne of magma and black smoke.

Every inch of the newly formed demonic body dripped liquid darkness; thick black sludge shimmered across its surface, forming a flowing armor.

Alo was now fully demonic; beneath the black-armored mask, his burning eyes radiated madness and evil.

All citizens who had survived the initial earthquake—whether common folk or arrogant city guards—felt as if their throats had been squeezed tight.

They stared blankly upward at the dark red figure above, radiating endless evil and destruction, their eyes filled with unmistakable terror.

“E… enemy attack!”

“All city defense forces, ascend immediately!”

After a brief silence, hysterical shouts erupted.

Piercing alarm sirens rang throughout the city.

Streams of light shot out from guard towers and barracks across the city.

Countless city defense soldiers, clad in standardized rune armor and wielding energy spears or staves, surged toward Alo from all directions like a startled swarm of bees, led by clerics.

Yet the protective spelllight glowing on their bodies could not dispel the darkness emanating from Alo.

Facing this swarm of ants, the destruction incarnate hovering in midair did not even turn his head.

He slowly raised his right hand, resembling a demonic claw.

In an instant.

Thick, ink-like, churning black Black Tide demon flame gained life.

It erupted wildly from every seam of his armor.

Black mist spread outward from him; countless grotesque, twisted, purely dark-energy-formed evils manifested in the mist, scrambling to appear.

Skeleton knights wreathed in black flame, calamity units the size of mountains, shadow-formed wraiths, plague-spreading blood orbs… each evil radiated an aura capable of freezing souls.

Their numbers instantly surpassed the incoming city defense forces.

Amid churning black mist, the evils, like ravenous sharks scenting blood, under Alo’s cold, silent command, became a wave of destruction sweeping across the sky.

With pure malice and an insatiable hunger to devour all, they slammed toward the terrified city defense soldiers.

“Blasphemer, by the lord’s name…” The lead cleric raised his gem-encrusted staff and roared.

But before he finished speaking, two white bone arms suddenly appeared at his sides, twisting his arms like a rope and snapping them.

Before his scream could escape, a monstrous mouth lined with fangs rose from below, clamping onto his legs and wrenching them apart, spraying blood.

The next second, thick black mist surged over the cleric, transforming into black maggots that frantically burrowed into his nostrils, ear canals, and corners of his eyes, wriggling beneath his skin in worm-like trails.

Uncontrollable screams erupted from the cleric’s throat.

At that moment, Alo, suspended high above, vanished.

He reappeared directly before the cleric, his black-scaled demonic hand now clutching a still-beating heart.

The black mist leaking from his body corroded the heart with a sizzling sound; the stench of decay spread through the air.

But the divine official had not died; his life was sustained by the energy released by A Luo, forcing him to watch as his own internal organs were devoured by evil influences.

Watching the divine official writhing in agony, A Luo felt not a single ripple in his heart.

He merely felt as if something kept surging into his body during the process of revenge.

……

At that moment, the figure in the governor’s mansion, clad in an ornate robe, reached into a food box to pick up a Life Pill refined from vast amounts of spiritual life energy, preparing to put it into his mouth.

But upon hearing a thunderous crash, he set down the Life Pill and hurried to the window, raising his head in confusion toward the sky.

The sky reflected in his eyes was like a stage curtain closing at the end of a play, rapidly being devoured by darkness.

Vast, evil creatures were ravaging the skies above the city.

The glow emitted by the runes on the city guard’s armor was like fireflies in a storm—swiftly swallowed by the darkness.

The governor’s pupils contracted violently; his expression turned terrified.

His mind held only one thought: flee, flee quickly!

(End of Chapter)