Factory District.
A black streak tore through the factory roof like a thunderbolt, vanishing into the churning fog.
A moment later, a crawling shadow emerged from the gaping hole, spiraling upward in pursuit.
A dark red maw pulsed at the centipede’s head—then countless shadowy tendrils burst forth, lashing toward Han Meng from all directions!
Han Meng’s black trench coat was drenched in blood. Frowning at the colossal shadow closing in, he raised his gun and fired relentlessly. Deconstructive bullets rained down, shredding the oncoming tendrils.
He could feel his mental energy draining rapidly, even as [Tribunal] expanded to its limits.
This wasn’t Han Meng’s first time fighting above his weight class. Compared to the red-paper monster, this shadow centipede was less daunting—not because it was weaker, but because the paper creature had been far more insidious.
Judgment’s power continued tearing through the shadows as Han Meng weaved through them, climbing higher.
Yet when he passed a certain altitude, the massive shadow halted its pursuit, retreating back into the ravaged steel factory.
Han Meng hovered midair, deep in thought.
The prolonged battle had nearly leveled the entire facility. As District Three’s chief enforcer, Han Meng couldn’t afford such losses, which was why he’d been trying to lure the mother creature away from the start.
But no matter which direction he took, once he crossed an invisible boundary, the entity would abandon the chase and return to the factory—as if it had fully claimed the place as its nest.
This made Han Meng’s task even harder. To end District Three’s crisis, he had to kill the mother.
Yet with hundreds of centipedes swarming the cramped factory, defeating a fifth-tier creature as a fourth-tier was nearly impossible. That was why their stalemate had dragged on for so long.
Just as Han Meng pondered his next move—
The centipedes inside the factory suddenly froze.
Their heads snapped toward a single direction in the fog, their crimson maws convulsing—whether in terror or excitement, it was impossible to tell.
Han Meng followed their gaze but saw only endless mist.
Before he could process this, the mother centipede at the factory’s core let out a shrill screech and plunged into the ground, vanishing into the depths.
The remaining shadows surged after it, converging toward a massive pit like a black tide caught in a whirlpool.
Han Meng didn’t hesitate. He streaked after them.
Inside the factory, the centipedes that had once attacked him on sight now ignored him completely, single-mindedly tunneling underground.
Following their trail, Han Meng stopped at a corner of the workshop. Before him yawned a crater several meters wide, its edges stained ashen gray, as if corroded by something.
"A Gray Realm convergence point?" Han Meng’s frown deepened.
To his knowledge, even when convergences occurred in the Aurora Domain, they rarely lasted more than half an hour before sealing naturally. Yet this one had persisted for hours.
As the centipedes disappeared, Han Meng’s vigilance only grew.
As long as this rift remained open, calamities could keep emerging—if not centipedes, then something worse. And something about this convergence felt wrong.
After a brief hesitation, resolve flashed in his eyes. He leaped into the pit, vanishing into the gray abyss below.
---
"So… fragrant…"
The blazing warehouse resembled a scorching furnace. Countless curled shadows burned silently within, while a charred figure—limbs like burnt matchsticks—crawled atop one, ravenously tearing into its flesh.
[Audience Expectation +1]
[Audience Expectation +1]
[…]
With each shadow Chen Ling consumed, the crimson eyes in the void grew brighter.
Dozens of centipedes perished in the flames, their flesh becoming his feast, their essence absorbed into the abyss—leaving only hollow husks curled obediently on the ground.
Time blurred.
Chen Ling’s eyes had long burned away.
His charred hands groped blindly at the roasted chicken before him, failing to grasp even a sliver of meat. Stumbling through the darkness, he collapsed after a single step—his left leg crumbling to ash.
The fall shattered his right arm, chest, and shoulder. He lay stiffly in the flames, a desiccated corpse awaiting death.
"Am I… dying…?"
Even [Blood Robe] couldn’t sustain him in this inferno indefinitely. Like the centipedes, his life force neared its end.
Oxygen dwindled rapidly. Suffocation clawed at his throat. He still tried to crawl toward the remaining chickens, but after endless struggling, could only twitch weakly.
Finally, he went still—as if accepting his fate.
The crimson eyes watched silently from the flames. The fire, having devoured the last air, sputtered out, leaving only faint embers flickering near the door.
[Detected loss of actor connection. Performance interrupted.]
[Audience Expectation -50]
[Current Expectation: 28]
Charred text flashed across the carcass-strewn floor. Then—
A sinister red light unfurled beneath Chen Ling’s body, weaving into a staircase that stretched into the void’s depths.
High above the warehouse, a vermilion star glimmered.
Torrents of mental energy erupted from Chen Ling’s corpse!
It was as if he’d shattered a barrier—his aura skyrocketed, finally settling on the second step of that distorted divine path before fading into nothingness…
Then—
In the darkness, the charcoal husk twitched.
Flesh regenerated over blackened bones. Light returned to scorched eyes. Something was hatching from this withered shell.
Fingers curled.
Eyelids peeled back, revealing hollow, eerie pupils.
He rose slowly, his crimson opera robe pristine.
A moment later, a chilling laugh echoed through the silent warehouse.