Enshrinement as a God

Even if they were outstanding, humans were still humans.

They could not be a match for the Star King, who was exercising his original power, albeit in a limited way.

However, it was very surprising that he possessed a soul so strong that it could cause the power of the Sealing God Platform, which was spread across the sky starting from the Hermit's Valley, to ripple.

"In that case, is your soul also that great?"

Coveting souls was the domain of those like the Demon God Priests, Black Sorcerers, or Gluttons, but a body that could contain a strong soul was a delicacy among delicacies for someone like the Red Sorcerer.

The Red Sorcerer carefully traced the area of Wen Zhong's heart along his dry sternum with his long fingernails.

It was once a body as hard as steel, but now, a small scratch formed along the Red Sorcerer's nail, and a drop of blood began to form.

The Red Sorcerer then thrust his nail into the area of his heart.

He intended to open Wen Zhong's chest and pull out his heart.

A vein bulged on the back of the Red Sorcerer's white hand as he applied force.

"This can't be...?"

His nails, which boasted a steel-like hardness, could not penetrate inside Wen Zhong's skin.

Although it was said that the people of the Central Plains also learned an external martial art called Outer Gate Qi Gong to make their skin like steel, this was an exaggerated story.

Unless they protected their bodies with the mysterious power they possessed, it was impossible for the Red Sorcerer's sharp nails to be blocked.

"Kaaah!"

Even when he applied all his strength, his nails still could not enter Wen Zhong's chest.

Although it was a time when the sun was at its zenith and he was weakening, he could still draw out the strength of two ordinary grown men.

Wasn't that why he had lived for a long time under the moniker 'He Who Walks Under the Sun'?

As if he were struggling against an iron wall, the Red Sorcerer looked at Wen Zhong, who was still breathing evenly, with a bewildered expression.

The twelve beings called superhumans who had transcended humanity.

They were worthy of being called 'transcendent humans' as they could fend off danger even in an unconscious state.

Moreover, wasn't that why Su Hu had sent him to kill a man who was no different from a corpse?

He had no intention of using Blood Demon Arts to kill an unconscious man, but in this situation, there was no other way.

"Go quietly to Mo Guangdi's side...!"

The Red Sorcerer's two eyes became bloodshot, and his amber pupils glistened.

"Haaa..."

At that moment, a long breath was heard from between Wen Zhong's dry lips.

At Wen Zhong's hot exhale, the Red Sorcerer unknowingly frowned.

The smell of profane death felt amidst the terrible stench.

The aura of death that had filled Wen Zhong's lungs was coming out with his breath and spreading wide and deep into the air.

Soon after, as Wen Zhong inhaled, his chest rose greatly and began to expand.

The bewildered Red Sorcerer looked at Wen Zhong and saw his eyeballs moving back and forth inside his tightly closed eyelids.

And below the deep scar on his forehead, a hallucination as if a bottomless abyss was unfolding flickered before the Red Sorcerer's eyes.

"No!"

As the Red Sorcerer closed and opened his eyes in dizziness, Wen Zhong's bedchamber, where he had been standing just a moment ago, began to recede from his sight.

When the Red Sorcerer tried to grab Wen Zhong, the east, west, south, and north of the chamber simultaneously unfolded in dozens of layers and began to stretch endlessly.

"Wh-who is it!"

The Red Sorcerer, greatly flustered, looked around the dizzily folding surroundings.

It was surprising enough that someone else had hidden in the room, deceiving his senses, but to even be caught in a hallucination.

Illusion arts were one of his domains; he intended to show a harsh lesson to the audacious person who dared to cast an illusion on him.

The Red Sorcerer's entire body, which was performing the Blood Demon Art, began to blur like mist.

Although performing the Blood Demon Art in broad daylight came with considerable restrictions, if he failed to take Wen Zhong's life here, he too might receive a terrible reprimand from Su Hu, just like Zhang Gui had recently.

At that moment, the sound of something being grasped was heard loudly in the Red Sorcerer's ears like thunder.

Simultaneously, Wen Zhong's bedding stirred, and something shot out like a flash of light, splitting the Red Sorcerer's mist-like body in two.

"Foolish fool! My Blood Demon Art is... Kuaaak!"

The Red Sorcerer's triumphant voice, now in mist form, was buried by a scream and disappeared.

A stream of dark red blood gushed out from the mist that had been cut by a flashing sword blade, like a whip.

The sword blade, writhing like a snake, returned to Wen Zhong's bedchamber.

As the bedding was lifted, a gaunt arm appeared first, and in the hand that followed, a sword hilt was tightly gripped.

The Golden Whip.

It was Wen Zhong's unique weapon and his personal sword.

The Red Sorcerer, who had regained his physical form from the mist, was shocked by the scar deeply engraved on his chest and stared blankly at the blood pouring onto the floor.

Wen Zhong's chamber was scattered in all directions like a broken mirror, and the stream of blood flowing from his wound was slowly falling to the floor.

Upon returning to his physical form from the mist, the Red Sorcerer felt his entire body become heavy and stuffy, like waterlogged cotton.

A sense of loneliness and fear, as if he were left alone in slowed time, assailed him.

He could not understand the situation that was unfolding.

'This... what on earth is happening?'

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but his voice wouldn't come out, and only thoughts filled his mind.

Before his eyes, he saw Wen Zhong slowly raising his upper body.

Although his eyes were still closed, the scar on his forehead seemed to flash like a large single eye, glaring at him.

'How on earth!'

It wasn't that there were no strange signs, but how could he have recovered so suddenly?

This was impossible.

According to Daji, Wen Zhong's foundation was already broken, his vitality exhausted, and he was weakening day by day, a body just waiting for the day of its death.

Moreover, he, who could smell the scent of death better than anyone, knew that well.

How could a man who could die at any moment display such an absurd power?

'Could it be that audacious thing was lying...?'

If Daji had falsely reported Wen Zhong's condition, it was not just a matter of deceiving him, but a rebellion against the Star King.

The Red Sorcerer, for now, used all his strength to perform the Blood Demon Art again.

The Black Qilin was a master comparable to Mo Guangdi.

Although his pride was hurt, if he had awakened, he could by no means guarantee victory against him in broad daylight.

He hurriedly tried to turn back into a thick mist and escape this place.

However, the Red Sorcerer's body, which had turned into mist, could not easily escape from Wen Zhong's chamber.

The entrance to the chamber, which should have been right in front of him, was stretched out as if it were a thousand miles away, and his body, which should have turned into mist long ago, was changing very slowly.

"Eul (乙)..."

A single word flowed from his parched throat.

As Wen Zhong opened his sunken eyes, light seeped in between his eyelids.

His eyes were dazzled and he couldn't see well, but a clear malevolence was transmitted through his qi sense.

His body was weaker than ever, but his mind was so clear.

Even without his two eyes, through the Time-Space Eye, the movement and location of things, and even the changes in the bizarre power, were all entering his mind.

The power flowing through the top of his head moved Wen Zhong's hand, which had no strength to even lift a spoon.

It felt like he was feeling the touch of the Golden Whip after a very long time.

His stomach was hot, and his dantian felt like it was burning as if on fire.

His heart was pounding roughly and explosively to drive out the dead blood and flesh.

Wen Zhong did not move, but his body was running to live.

The Space Sword.

His sword strike that cut through space could not be avoided by any existence.

As the Golden Whip was swung, he felt the heavy sensation of cutting something.

What he cut had no form, but the light tremor transmitted to his fingertips through the sword blade conveyed every single one of its screams to Wen Zhong's nerves.

It felt like he had been in a long dream.

No, it still felt like he was dreaming.

His lungs ached as if they were burning from the unfamiliar air entering his airways, and his awakened stomach writhed in hunger, frantically shaking Wen Zhong.

—Zhong... in the end, it is up to you. Why are you still closing your eyes?—

A chiding voice rang in his ears.

At the single word that was whispered to his sleeping soul, things finally began to enter Wen Zhong's eyes, albeit blurry.

The Golden Whip, covered in something unpleasant, was retrieved into his hand and once again wrapped around Wen Zhong's waist.

"Cough... cough..."

Wen Zhong coughed dryly and twisted his body.

As he got up from the bed, his joints and nerves began to scream as if they were on fire.

"This is..."

His eyes fell on the ruined chamber.

The door was torn, and bloodstains were scattered everywhere; something had clearly happened here.

"How long... have I been asleep?"

The last thing he remembered was saying a word to Jeshin, who was looking at him worriedly, and closing his eyes in the barracks.

And the lingering afterimage of a memory that seemed about to break.

Wen Zhong stretched out his arm, leaned against the wall, and slowly took one step at a time.

Beside his bed, a man with only half of his body remaining was collapsed. Below his waist, black ash was scattered messily.

"You... this... who is this?"

It was difficult to even utter a single word.

Who on earth was this, with his lower body gone and only his upper body rolling on the floor?

Wen Zhong could tell that what he had cut with the Golden Whip was this person.

Many things must have happened while he was asleep.

And seeing how his chamber had become, it was surely not a good thing.

The priority was to grasp the situation as quickly as possible and meet Jeshin.

Wen Zhong moved his feet with difficulty to check the face of the culprit.

Shiver!

"Hmm?!"

But the upper body, which had seemed like a corpse, trembled violently as Wen Zhong approached and was instantly flung out of the chamber.

Wen Zhong, in the bewildering situation, hurriedly tried to run after it, but he could not walk easily due to his legs not moving as he wished and a sharp chest pain.

"Cough... cough..."

As he left the chamber following the flying corpse of the culprit, the scene of the great massacre that had unfolded in the inner court rushed into his eyes.

Dozens of Black Contemplation Fortress warriors had been hacked to death, and the path outside the chamber was filled with blood, forming a stream.

"Shin... Shin!"

Wen Zhong called out Jeshin's name in a loud, cracking voice.

But it only echoed.

No one answered Wen Zhong's voice.

Feeling an ominous premonition, Wen Zhong grabbed a spear lying on the floor, used it as a staff, and moved his feet, staggering.

He had to get out of here and find Jeshin.

And he had to find out the identity of the calamity that had befallen the Black Contemplation Fortress while he was collapsed.

(End of Chapter)