Chapter 762: Era of Dharma's End
At the same time, emerald green vines began to sprout from beneath Wu Ling's feet. These vines, bristling with sharp barbs, effortlessly sliced through his protective suit and burrowed into the flesh beneath his toenails.
Compared to the agony of the barbs piercing his flesh, the neurotoxin inherent in the barbs themselves likely amplified the suffering tenfold.
This was a special toxin Yan Huo had designed in mere seconds, capable of inflicting pain that bordered on mental collapse in humans, yet paradoxically causing little physical harm.
For such an ant daring to offend it, a casual death felt too lenient. It believed the ant should first be tormented in agony for three to five years, until it was utterly broken before finally dying.
“Rip!”
But Wu Ling was also a ruthless individual. The moment he realized a toxin had been injected into his foot, he didn't hesitate for an instant, striking his own foot with a backhand slash.
The mangled flesh of his two toxin-contaminated toes, along with the numerous menacing vines around them, flew into the air, accompanied by spurting crimson blood.
Red blood and green sap splattered everywhere under the immense kinetic force of that sword strike, reaching even Mi La, hundreds of meters away.
...
The Ghost Immortals, belonging to two different factions, simultaneously uttered those four words after Wu Ling’s savage, self-inflicted cut.
Unlike other paths, they, as Ghost Immortals, could relatively clearly "see" the shifts in Qi Luck, and their research into it was the most profound.
Through observations of numerous samples, the Ghost Immortals had discovered a rather special physique in certain individuals—the Children of Fortune. They were an extremely rare few who, even before ascending to the Immortal Stage, could actively or passively expend their own Qi Luck to accomplish feats normally considered impossible.
For instance, Wu Ling's recent self-mutilating cut: if he had been half a second slower, or cut even a centimeter less, he would never have stopped the toxin from rushing straight from his toes to his heart via his bloodstream.
“He’s not just an ordinary Child of Fortune; he’s a ‘Son of Destiny’ bound to the Federation’s Qi Luck...”
“How could a ‘Son of Destiny’ be a mere mortal?”
“Why is he appearing now?”
“I don’t know either...”
...
The two Ghost Immortals frantically exchanged information. In their eyes, Wu Ling’s perfectly timed sword strike was an effect achievable only by burning the Federation’s Qi Luck behind him.
How could the paltry amount of Qi Luck he possessed possibly defend against such a brazen, shameless sneak attack from a True Immortal?
“A Child of Fortune, a pawn of Qi Luck,” Bai Mo, observing silently from a hidden spot, remarked to one of Yun Jie’s projected avatars beside him.
“You mean... the Federation’s vast Qi Luck has already given birth to its own consciousness?”
“...”
Bai Mo did not reply.
Of course, he couldn't say much more, for Bai Mo had already perceived that this young man, Wu Ling, was one of the pawns cast by Wu Ling into the Federation’s civilization—a tentative pawn, serving as a 'throwing a stone to ask for directions' move, whose historical mission would be fulfilled once he stirred up some trouble.
The true future was unforeseeable, yet the most probable outcomes could be deduced from the information at hand.
...
Wu Ling was not a high-level cultivator capable of casually regenerating severed limbs; the two toes he had cut off were truly gone. Even though the high temperature of the Lu Xian Sword’s blade instantly cauterized his wound, he still stumbled for a moment, having lost his balance slightly.
“Mere resentment from trash, daring to cling to me?” Yan Huo spent several seconds analyzing, finally comprehending the source of this nauseating power.
It was resentment from mortals.
The social hierarchy between superhumans and ordinary people was severely solidified. Whether due to hatred for societal injustice or dissatisfaction with blocked avenues for advancement, billions of mortals had accumulated vast amounts of resentment over the past century.
The power manifested by resentment would subconsciously seek out individuals willing to make grand vows and truly attempt to change everything.
Such an invisible, formless thing, in the mortal era before Wu Ling's intervention, might only have manifested as Qi Luck, loading itself onto certain struggling resistors of the existing system.
But this was the Spirit Energy era, an age where subjective spiritual power could interfere with the material world. The power of Qi Luck, transformed from resentment, could even be directly used in combat.
In a sense, this could be considered a branch of the Divine Path, though a more extreme one, as the user was essentially merely an agent of the collective will of all sentient beings—a tool whose sole purpose was to complete a mission.
Once the mission was complete and the resentment dissipated, the accumulated power would vanish with it.
When fortune favors, heaven and earth conspire; when fortune fades, heroes find no freedom.
“I must finish this quickly,” Wu Ling muttered, briefly checking his physical condition. His prognosis was not optimistic.
Even though he had stopped the toxin’s penetration into his bloodstream, the neurotoxin concocted by Yan Huo was no ordinary adversary. While it hadn't yet reached the point of possessing its own consciousness and attacking automatically, it exhibited the viral characteristics of rampant proliferation and self-replication.
In mere seconds, the surrounding air was already permeated with large quantities of the neurotoxin. Every millisecond, Wu Ling had to expend a significant amount of Qi Luck to purify this nameless poison.
In his fury, Yan Huo no longer cared about the lives of others below. The toxin ceaselessly spread outwards; ordinary people would die upon contact, and even cultivators, under the assault of this True Immortal-enhanced poison, would at best cling to life for a few more seconds.
Only a select few, protected by powers of a similar caliber, could safeguard themselves from this indiscriminate assault.
...
Wu Ling calculated that his body could at most last another five minutes.
It wasn’t that his Qi Luck was insufficient; it was simply that to contend with a True Immortal, the sheer power instantaneously flowing through his body was too immense. He, as the relay, was about to explode.
But before that, he resolved that even if it meant sacrificing himself, he would give these high and mighty True Immortals, who completely disdained ordinary people, a lesson they would never forget!
“Era of Dharma’s End!”
Resentment, now completely solidified, erupted from the tip of the Lu Xian Sword.
It was a cluster of flames, sporting several colors.
The outermost layer was white.
The second layer was yellow.
The third layer was orange.
...
After a total of seven layers, the innermost core was purple.
In less than a millisecond, the seven-colored flames expanded like a massive explosion, forming a space that enveloped everyone.
Even Ao Er Jia and Huang Wu Ji, who were fiercely battling in a spatial rift on the edge of a distant space battlefield, were covered by this bizarre space.
Within this space, everyone could feel the Spirit Energy within their bodies wildly leaking out, then dissolving into the surroundings without a trace.
PS: Snuck in a chapter during my break. Also, a quick shout-out to “I’m the Dean of the Monster Academy,” by an old friend whose books I've given a boost to a few times.
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