Chapter 338: The Real Crushing

Boom—!

Jiang Yuan's Shadow Legion is no longer just simple shadow soldiers; after being empowered by the thirteen Divine Gifts, they become true Abyss incarnations!

At the same time, the power of the thirteen Divine Gifts is greedily devoured by the Spinal Sword, and the pale Bone Spikes' surfaces reveal thirteen distinct Weird patterns; the blade swells by nearly a meter, each swing tearing at the Rule Power layer!

In the black tide, the absolute pressure from the Seal of Domination, the Bronze Ring's chilling rewrite of the environment, the Boning Knife's defense‑ignoring sharpness...

This is no longer a simple stacking of forces, but a ferocious concerto of thirteen death rules!

Enough to instantly kill Chen Shao at his peak, pouring out without reservation!

And Su Ming thrusts the collapsing Spatial Force in his palm hard forward!

It is not a cut, nor a seal.

It is erasure!

The very concept of "existence" in that area is being twisted and compressed; light, air, matter—everything is forced toward an invisible singularity, a final end that even Weird cannot escape!

Liang Wen pulls out a Submachine Gun, pulls the trigger, spitting bullets aimed at Weird and the cunning foes.

The dense bullets block every possible dodge spot in Sai Men.

A tsunami‑like Shadow Surge.

A spatial singularity capable of annihilating all things.

A hail of gunfire that blocks any chance of evasion.

Three utterly different forces, at this moment, achieve perfect resonance, sealing all retreat and life of Sai Men from three dimensions!

The entire top floor of the TV Tower moans under this power.

Marble floors are ripped up in sheets, turning into dust.

The massive floor‑to‑ceiling window turns into a cloud of crystal shards in the first second, swept away by the raging energy flow.

The flesh and blood tissue that had just been mended on the wall bursts again, spewing Blood Mist, only to vaporize instantly!

Enough.

This time, absolutely enough!

Whether Jiang Yuan, Su Ming, or even the now‑blurry‑sighted Liang Wen, the same thought rises in their hearts.

However.

Facing all this.

Sai Men merely lifts its staff embedded with a Living Eyeball.

Then, as if casually, on the marble floor beneath its feet.

A light tap.

Dong.

No sound.

Or rather, in that instant, all sound is swallowed by that light tap.

An invisible, gray‑white ripple, centered on the staff's point of contact, spreads silently.

The ripple moves slowly, slow enough to see its trajectory.

It carries no energy, no temperature, no impact, not even a speck of dust.

It is like an artist lightly erasing a mistake with a rubber.

A basal rule that supersedes ordinary Weird, descending in a completely unreasonable manner, crashes down.

Su Ming witnesses the most absurd and terrifying scene of his life.

His "Collapse", capable of compressing space into a singularity, upon touching that gray‑white ripple, bursts like a soap bubble pricked by a needle.

"Pop" in an instant.

Gone.

No explosion, no recoil—just vanished into thin air, as if it never existed.

Immediately follows Jiang Yuan's Shadow Legion.

The black tide, woven from thirteen death rules and able to devour everything, hits the gray‑white ripple and cannot even let out a wail.

Not shattered, not purified.

It is forcibly erased.

It is ripped from the very concept of "existence", utterly annihilated!

One powerful shadow soldier after another, along with the Rule Power they wield, fade to nothing like erased pencil marks, piece by piece.

Liang Wen's bullets disintegrate into dust.

The three's strongest combined attack, before this tiny gray‑white ripple, is as fragile as a joke.

The backlash of Rules being violently shattered erupts the next second with a bang!

"Puff!"

Su Ming feels his brain hammered by a heavy mallet, the world spinning wildly.

The Spatial Force he commands is forcefully repelled by an incomprehensible higher‑dimensional power, brutally poured back into his body.

Black blood gushes from his seven orifices in an instant!

His body, like a torn sack, is flung, slamming heavily onto a distant load‑bearing wall, emitting a sour‑tinged thud, his whole form slides down, life and death unknown.

"Crack!"

Jiang Yuan's tiger‑mouth fissure bursts open, blood gushing!

The Spinal Sword, fused with the thirteen Divine Gifts, emits a mournful wail; spider‑web‑like cracks appear on the blade, an irresistible force surges from the hilt, he can no longer hold it, the weapon flies out, arcing through the air and smashing into his chest.

The crisp break of broken ribs is clearly audible.

Jiang Yuan grunts low, his whole body catapults, rolling on the ground several times before stopping, coughing up blood in large gulps.

Liang Wen was the last one to fall.

Liang Wen had already overdrawn his life, his body swaying as if about to collapse; the gray‑white ripple didn't even touch Liang Wen directly—just the dissipating vibration made Liang Wen's vision go black.

Liang Wen vomited a clump of black blood, his body convulsing violently; the disheveled hair, already interwoven with white strands, turned a ashen gray at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Liang Wen forced himself not to fall, bracing a knife against the ground, staring intently at the unscathed figure, his eyes filled with incredulous despair.

Defeat.

Complete, unequivocal defeat.

Sai Men passed through the still‑disintegrating energy turbulence without a single hair out of place, not even a wrinkle lifting the hem of his splendid suit.

Sai Men walked with a grace as if strolling in a palace ballroom, step by step, until he reached the center of the battlefield.

At his feet lay a Dark Playing Card dropped by Jiang Yuan.

Sai Men did not go around it.

"Clack."

Sai Men's expensive custom leather shoes mercilessly stepped down, crushing the card that had accompanied Jiang Yuan through countless battles.

From his lofty height Sai Men looked down at the three people struggling to rise from the ground like ants; behind the Mask, the two eye sockets shone with unabashed mockery and contempt.

This could not even be called a battle.

It was a... dimensional‑reduction strike.

Jiang Yuan propped himself on the ground with his remaining left hand; each breath tugged at his fractured ribs, bringing searing pain.

Jiang Yuan stared at the man who had crushed his card, at the opponent's flawless posture, and a never‑before felt helplessness flooded over him like a tide.

They laid out all their remaining cards, betting everything on Awakening, and launched a thunderous strike they believed could shake the gods.

The result was merely a nonchalant... snicker from the other side.

Sai Men was even... too lazy to dodge.

Sai Men walked to Jiang Yuan's side and halted.

He slowly bent down; the staff in his hand, set with a Living Eyeball, its cold metal base gently lifted Jiang Yuan's blood‑ and dust‑stained chin.

The eyeball turned, its gaze curious yet cruel, scrutinizing Jiang Yuan's twisted face up close, contorted by pain and resentment.

Sai Men's voice was so gentle it was chilling, like a lover's whisper, yet also like a deity's pity for mortals.

"You're too impulsive."

"Now, are you willing to settle down and listen to my Gospel?"