Chapter 217: The Violent Storm Is Approaching

Rainwater slid down the blade, gathering into a bead at the tip, but did not fall for a long time.

Ouyang Feng moved.

No roar, no run‑up, not even a splash in the water beneath his feet.

His whole body was like a black lightning bolt, instantly slicing through the rain curtain.

The Death Dragon in his hand emitted a hungry hum, its blade pointing straight at Chen Shao's brow.

This strike was so fast it reached the limit of what the human retina can capture.

Ouyang Feng knew well that against a mental‑type monster of this level, any hesitation would give the opponent a chance to unleash a big move.

Only by striking the instant the foe hasn't fully adapted to its bodily change could he guarantee a kill.

The tip pierced the air.

Three inches from the brow.

Hum—!

A deep, muffled thud sounded, like a heavy object plunging into deep‑sea mud.

The Tang blade that cut iron like mud and had slain countless weird beings froze mid‑air.

The blade shuddered violently, yet could not advance even an inch.

There was no shield, no force field.

In Ouyang Feng's perception, the air before Chen Shao seemed to suddenly gain life; it was no longer gas but an invisible, intangible yet impregnable wall.

Chen Shao didn't even blink.

His scarlet left pupil slowly rotated a full circle, his gaze sweeping past the blade to land on Ouyang Feng's astonished face.

Chen Shao's lips twitched as he uttered a single syllable.

"Retreat."

Boom!

It wasn't sound, but an overbearing, unreasonable force of rules.

With Chen Shao as the center, rainwater within a ten‑meter radius instantly vaporized. A terrifying repulsion burst forth without warning, like an invisible giant hand slamming hard into Ouyang Feng's chest.

The Federation Investigation Bureau's ace agent was blown away, blade and all. He twisted his body in midair, landed, then slid several meters through the mire before barely planting his sword into the ground to steady himself.

Pfft.

Ouyang Feng's throat sweetened; a mouthful of blood sprayed onto the mud‑slick ground.

He jerked his head up, pupils contracting sharply.

In that instant, the laws of physics were rewritten.

"Open fire! Target extremely dangerous! Free fire!"

The Special Forces team captain in the distance bellowed the order. Though he didn't know what had happened, his instinct told him that if they didn't turn that man into a sieve now, they would be the ones dead.

Rat‑tat‑tat‑tat‑tat!

Dozens of large‑caliber assault rifles spat flames simultaneously, their dense bullets weaving a death‑net that fell upon the siblings in the ruin's center.

Chen Shao still did not move.

He merely lowered his gaze to the trembling Chen Yao in his arms and pressed her hands tighter over her ears.

As for the bullets screaming toward them?

He raised his right hand and made a casual grab at the empty space to his side.

Clatter—

The scattered concrete fragments, broken reinforced steel bars, and discarded bricks, as if summoned by some supreme command, instantly defied gravity and floated up. They collided, meshed, and reformed at extreme speed in midair.

In the blink of an eye, a half‑meter‑thick wall of rubble sprang into being, stretching between the Special Forces team and him.

Ding‑ding‑dang‑dang!

Bullets struck the stone wall, spraying countless sparks but leaving not a single dent.

Worse, the firearms of several Special Forces members suddenly emitted a piercing metallic screech; their barrels seemed instantly softened by heat, or their internal firing‑pin mechanisms mysteriously misaligned.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One after another, the barrels exploded.

Shrieks rose and fell as several team members, clutching their blown‑apart hands, collapsed to the ground and writhed.

"Is this...... the complete form?"

Ouyang Feng wiped the blood from his mouth, the knuckles of his sword‑grip whitening. He stared at the man standing in the rain, expression indifferent, and felt an unprecedented sense of helplessness well up inside him.

This was no longer a battle.

This was a crushing.

Previously, Chen Shao could only activate his ability through "eye contact" or "verbal suggestion," interfering with the mind.

But now, this man need only stir a thought to interfere with physical reality.

He is a god.

At least at this moment, on this ruin, he is the god who writes the rules.

"Don't shoot......"

From behind the rubble wall came Chen Shao's calm voice. It wasn't a warning; it was more like an admonition stating a fact.

The Special Forces captain, clutching his blast‑injured arm, eyes blood‑red, snarled through gritted teeth: "Keep attacking! Deploy heavy weapons! We absolutely cannot let him escape!"

Chen Shao sighed.

He glanced through a crack in the stone wall at the Special Forces members still trying to load their grenade launchers.

In his left eye, the abyss‑like vortex suddenly spun faster.

An invisible wave instantly swept over the entire area.

"Since you don't want to stop, let's change the way we play."

"The next second."

"A teammate loading ammunition suddenly went rigid all over. He stared in terror, looking at his comrade—at that instant, the once familiar teammate underwent a horrifying mutation in his eyes."

"The comrade's skin began to peel away, revealing rotting flesh oozing pus and blood; the tidy combat uniform turned into tattered corpse-wrapping cloth; the hand that held the gun became a sharp bone blade."

"Roar—!"

"In his ears, his comrade's shout turned into a monster's howl."

"Monster! A monster has gotten in!"

"The soldier, like a madman, pulled the trigger and frantically sprayed at the 'monster' beside him."

"Ah! Are you crazy? It's me!"

"The hit comrade screamed miserably and fell, but in the shooter's eyes, that was the monster's last counterattack."

"Not just him."

"The entire special forces squad instantly fell into massive panic."

"The world in everyone's eyes changed. Brothers who once fought side by side now all turned into Evil Ghosts crawling out of hell. Gunfire, screams, and curses blended together."

"They began to kill each other."

"Stop! Everyone stop!"

"Ouyang Feng roared, but he found his voice couldn't get out at all."

"The air was filled with a field that could warp perception; his orders reached the teammates' ears as a harsh noise."

"This is the Dominating Demon Eye's Full Power Release."

"Collective cognitive disorder."

"Just think, everything in the world becomes hell in the eye."

"Ouyang Feng watched this absurd, bloody scene, watching the usually well-trained elite tear at each other like beasts, and felt a bone‑deep chill."

"It can't go on like this."

"Ouyang Feng crushed his teeth, forcibly suppressing the hallucination that wanted to see his teammates as zombies. His mental will was terrifyingly resilient, and with the presence of the Death Dragon, he stubbornly resisted the Demon Eye's corruption."

"Swoosh!"

"He sheathed his blade, and his body surged upward."

"He wasn't rushing toward Chen Shao, but toward those out‑of‑control teammates."

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"He was like a cheetah charging into a flock of sheep, his hand‑blade precisely cutting each teammate's carotid artery."

"One, two, five......"

"Ouyang Feng had to personally knock out his own comrades to stop this absurd slaughter."

"The rain kept falling."

"When the last mad teammate collapsed limp, the surroundings finally fell silent."

"Only the mess on the ground and heavy breathing remained."

"Ouyang Feng half‑kneeling in the mud, gasping for breath. The high‑intensity actions just now, plus the internal injuries that had been blown away earlier, made his vision a bit blurry."

"Clack. Clack. Clack."

"Footsteps sounded."

"That stone wall slowly crumbled, turning back into a pile of rubble."

"Chen Shao pushed a wheelchair—an improvised seat he had just twisted together from a few Reinforced Steel Bars and a wooden plank—and walked out from behind the ruins. Chen Yao sat on it, draped in an adult shirt stained with blood but not dirty, ears still tightly covered, eyes shut tight."

"Chen Shao walked very slowly and steadily."

"When he passed by Ouyang Feng, he didn't even pause."

"Ahead of the ruins, the mountain‑high debris automatically slid aside to both sides, revealing a flat passage leading outward."

"Stop......"

"Ouyang Feng braced the hilt, staggered to his feet. Blood‑soaked water dripped down his chin."

"You can't get away... Investigation Bureau... won't let you go..."

"Chen Shao stopped his steps."

"But he didn't look back, only turned his back to Ouyang Feng, his voice light, mingling with the rain, somewhat ethereal."

"Wrong, I was the one who let you go."

"He tilted his head slightly."

"By the dim streetlamp in the distance, Ouyang Feng saw his profile."

"The red light in his left eye had contracted, becoming deep and calm."

"That is not a monster's gaze."

"Nor is it a murderer's gaze."

"There was no hatred, no anger, not even the victor's mockery. Only a kind of... as if having seen through all the world's suffering, a compassionate sorrow."

"The reason you all are still alive is that I have no reason to keep killing."

"Chen Shao withdrew his gaze, pushed the wheelchair, and kept moving forward."

"Rain soaked his back; the figure that was always hunched and somewhat timid now stood upright like a solitary peak."

"Ouyang Feng opened his mouth, his grip on the blade tightening and loosening repeatedly."

"In the end, he didn't draw his blade again."

"He watched that silhouette gradually merge into the night until it vanished completely."

"Federal Weird Investigation Bureau Headquarters."

Top Floor Office.

In front of the huge floor‑to‑ceiling window, Lord Wei cradled in his hand the purple‑clay teacup that had accompanied him for decades. A wisp of steam rose from the rim, blurring his deeply furrowed old face.

On the holographic screen before him, a single image was frozen.

It was the final image transmitted by the tactical helmet.

Heavy rain. Ruins.

The young man who turned his head.

That crimson, calm left eye.

The office was eerily silent, with only the wall clock ticking tirelessly.

Lord Wei stared at that eye for a long time, long enough for the tea to grow cold.

He lowered his head and looked at the teacup in his hand.

The tea's surface, which had remained mirror‑smooth for many years, rippled with a fine circle as his trembling hand disturbed it.

In this world, a heavy rain is about to arrive.