Ren Yi felt a massive headache coming on.
“How is there a Nascent Soul now... is this ever going to end?”
Why did the bosses in this godforsaken world always have a Phase Two?
The Nascent Soul in midair slowly turned its head, its grayish-white pupils landing on the thin cloud of pale mist.
The corners of its mouth split all the way to its ears, revealing a smile that was almost innocent yet cruel to the bone:
“In the last era, the world revered me as... the Immortal Sword Venerable.”
Inside the silent room, the two pieces of the broken sword on the floor, which had completely lost their luster, suddenly trembled very slightly.
“You are not him.”
The Sword-man's hoarse voice echoed from deep within the broken sword.
“You aren't him at all... What kind of piece of trash are you?”
Hearing these words, the expression of the Nascent Soul hovering in midair twitched violently.
Anger, distortion, and resentment washed over its face.
“I am him!” the infant's voice suddenly became shrill and piercing.
The crying of a young child mixed with the hoarse roar of an adult, nearly piercing everyone's eardrums.
“I control your blood pacts, and I can freely manipulate his body. Why wouldn't I be him?!”
A weak but mocking chuckle came from the broken sword.
“You piece of trash.”
“You... don't even know how to hold a sword correctly.”
As soon as these words fell, the expression on the Nascent Soul's face froze.
It pursed its lips guiltily, its mouth trembling as it roared hysterically.
“So what? His cultivation power is mine, his origin is mine! Even this physical body obeys my commands now!”
Listening to this near-defensive, mad roaring, the depths of the broken sword fell into a bizarre silence.
After a moment, the Sword-man seemed to finally understand something and sighed, “Ah... I see.”
“The physical body fell long ago and was turned into a tool... while you are nothing but the remnant spiritual energy of the Nascent Soul left inside that empty shell.”
“You are just a filthy thing born from the embers reigniting themselves over the countless years.”
“No different from zombies or ghost servants.”
His tone was now dripping with mockery.
“This really is... a disgrace to his legacy.”
With its true identity completely exposed, the Nascent Soul floated in midair, its tiny hands clenched into fists, its face twisting into an utterly hideous expression of shame and fury.
“So what if I am his Nascent Soul?!”
“Why do scrap metals like you get to survive?”
“Why does a broken sword like you get to have your own consciousness?”
“While I... am the source of the purest spiritual energy in the Myriad Realms! Why shouldn't I be allowed to birth a consciousness of my own?!”
The Sword-man fell silent.
After a long time, a faint, tired laugh finally echoed from deep within the broken sword.
“When it comes to acting sanctimonious... you don't even have a ten-thousandth of his class.”
“Pops, sorry to keep you waiting. Let's go.”
The two pieces of the broken sword gave one last tremble on the metal floor before completely turning into two cold, lifeless pieces of scrap metal.
Ren Yi watched this scene in silence. On the floor, the black tide that Evans had transformed into surged quietly.
At that moment, another hoarse voice echoed from the remains of the disintegrating cloth bag.
It was Pops.
“Don't forget... what you promised me.”
Evans was taken aback.
He and Pops were partners, but he didn't remember making any promises or agreeing to anything.
It was merely a verbal agreement where both sides got what they wanted.
As for Ren Yi, Pops might have sensed his presence, but the two of them hadn't exchanged a single word from beginning to end.
So this sentence was clearly not meant for him either.
Then... who on earth was he talking to?
The situation on the battlefield left Ren Yi no time to ponder.
Pops' body and soul were utterly annihilated, and the Sword-man was completely broken.
Dr. Cyril leaned against the corner near the water tank, quietly watching everything unfold.
For a moment, the only ones left with any combat capability were the nearly exhausted Ren Yi, Evans, and the Nascent Soul hovering in midair, radiating a bizarre glow.
This obsessed Nascent Soul was clearly not as mindless as it acted, keeping itself tightly huddled deep within the protection of God's Corpse's annihilation field.
Furthermore, for some reason, the annihilation domain of God's Corpse was expanding.
Six meters, seven meters... it was still gradually growing.
Ren Yi secretly discussed a plan with Evans.
【If this keeps up, we'll be worn down to death!】
【Evans, use your entire body to block all paths of retreat, and I'll find an opportunity to go up and blow him to pieces!】
“Alright.”
The black liquid surged violently in response, carrying rage and hatred as it stretched into a massive black spherical canopy in the air, instantly filling the space.
But at that moment, a sinister smile suddenly spread across the Nascent Soul's tiny face. It began to form hand seals with one hand, chanting under its breath.
Buzz!
A series of sharp, piercing whooshes echoed as several fragments flashing with a sinister crimson light materialized around it, faintly piecing together the savage silhouette of a blade.
This was the Demon Blade that the Sword-man had shattered moments ago.
The Nascent Soul squinted at the badly shattered Demon Blade, seemingly highly dissatisfied.
A flash of ruthlessness crossed its tiny face as it waved its hand violently:
“Go!”
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! The sky full of crimson blade fragments shot out like a torrential downpour.
Caught off guard, the canopy of black liquid that Evans had pushed forward shrank violently.
With several muffled punctures, a large number of sharp fragments pierced straight through his body, forcing circles of eye-catching, foul blood to bloom across the scorched liquid surface.
He let out a muffled groan of pain.
In the brief moment he paused, the Nascent Soul had already summoned all kinds of things using its remaining connection with God's Corpse.
A bloodstained, mottled scimitar, a bundle of ropes covered in seals, a piece of wood wrapped in flesh...
Countless bizarre Anomalies radiating ominous auras were forcibly dragged out from who knows where at this moment!
Ren Yi's status panel was glitching and flashing out of control right now, but he had no time to look at it.
After the consumption caused by the Lord of the Sky Lake's attempt to start the New Era, the carpet bombing of the Wilderness, and the active sacrifice of the Abyss... perhaps not even one in ten of this world's Anomalies remained.
So, judging by the current situation, it seemed that every single Anomaly transformed from a spiritual tool that hadn't been completely destroyed yet had appeared here.
The Nascent Soul did not seem to be able to control the suppression power of God's Corpse, so these Anomalies did not display any of their special abilities.
But their sheer numbers were overwhelming.
Densely packed magic treasures and ancient weapons spun frantically around the Nascent Soul, resembling a violent storm of cold steel blades!
“Die!”
The storm of blades tore through the air with a series of sharp sonic booms, sweeping furiously toward Evans and shredding his black body to pieces, tearing apart massive sheets of black liquid in midair.
Ren Yi tried using his Seed again, but the Nascent Soul also seemed to be tainted with a fragment of the world's will, rendering it completely ineffective.
Frowning slightly, he confirmed that Evans could not break through this storm of blades, so he simply stopped dodging.
Swoosh! Ren Yi's figure suddenly vanished from the spot.
Unable to get close to the Nascent Soul itself, he simply picked a massive Anomaly as a medium, using the Pain Bead to overlap his True Form with it!
Boom!
Another explosion erupted, and the terrifying shockwave blasted open a massive gap in the airtight storm of blades.
Over a dozen Anomaly magic treasures were instantly shattered into a sky full of fragments.
But before Ren Yi could even catch his breath, the storm of blades began to close back up.
The shattered fragments of the weapons that had fallen to the ground and broken apart actually defied all logic, floating back up under the summon of the remaining blood pacts and spinning back into the trajectory of the storm.
“It's useless,” the Nascent Soul sneered.
“Even if I am not the Immortal Sword Venerable himself, I still hold their blood pacts.”
“Once a magic treasure recognizes its master, the causality remains forever!”
“Even if they die, even if their bodies and souls are utterly annihilated, even if they shatter into ten thousand pieces... they must still obey my con—”
Pfft!
A highly abrupt, incredibly dull sound of a sharp blade piercing into flesh cut off its hysterical rant without warning.
The smile on the Nascent Soul's face froze in that instant.
Whoosh...
The wildly spinning storm of blades shuddered violently in a split second.
Immediately after, countless heavy magic treasures and weapons began to rain down, clattering haphazardly onto the floor.
The Nascent Soul's eyes widened. It stiffly, inch by inch, lowered its head, looking at its own chest in disbelief.
A wooden tip, shaved to an extremely sharp point, had pierced straight out from the dead center of its chest.
It was a worn, decaying wooden crucifix wrapped in a bit of flesh.
It had stabbed in from its back and emerged from its chest, skewering it clean through.
“Screw you!”
A voice, heavy with panting, echoed from the crucifix.
“The soul of a Tide-Follower like me... isn't governed by your goddamn blood pact!”
Rate on N.U.
