Chapter 100

Chapter 100

The dark curtain of the sky split as the clouds parted, revealing a crimson moon hanging in the void.

This was no eclipse-born halo. This was a true red moon, a perfect orb of bloodstone suspended in the heavens.

Lu Yan’s eyes held no discernible emotion.

But this was not Lu Yan.

The small monstrosity ceased its feeding. The cluster of tiny eyes studding its body swiveled in uneasy alarm. Needle-like bristles stood rigid along its back, turning it into a grotesque, spiked balloon—though any real hedgehog was infinitely more endearing. It was hard to feel pity for something born nearly three meters long.

Lu Yan stared at it, his gaze holding a trace of detached indulgence.

A guttural hiss rattled in its throat. It scrambled backward, six spindly leg-bones quivering with primal fear, desperate to flee the chamber.

Lu Yan opened his mouth. "Come."

Human words, yet twisted, layered with an ancient, grating cadence.

It was the sound of a blood-inked grimoire on a merchant's desk—seemingly legible at a glance, yet dissolving into nonsense upon closer inspection.

Talent 11: Prophetic Decree.

The word spoken, the law made manifest.

Like the omniscience of Sequence 6, this was a talent humanity was never meant to wield.

An invisible force clamped down on the ghost-infant's shoulders. It thrashed, its many eyes fixed on the nearby cavern mouth, on the faint daylight filtering down from the lake's surface above. Unseen hands pressed relentlessly, shoving it back toward Lu Yan.

The creature tumbled to the floor at his feet. Its long, whiplike tail struck the stone, cracking the bedrock beneath.

It rolled over, ignoring its own pain. In a grotesque pantomime of supplication, it lowered its head and emitted a soft, infantile whimper. A crimson, frog-like tongue unfurled, licking the grime from Lu Yan's boots. Pink-tinged drool, still mixed with Michael's blood, dripped from its maw.

It was docile now, a far cry from the mindless terror of minutes before. Only the faint tremor in its limbs betrayed its abject fear.

Lu Yan peeled off his glove and reached out, patting its head. "Afraid of me?"

The creature shook its head violently, the lantern-like eyeballs dangling from threads on its skull swinging in a frantic dance.

It was fortunate the only potential witness, Michael, lay unconscious and gravely wounded. This scene defied all rational explanation.

Lu Yan's fingernails lengthened, curving into talons. He drove them deep into the monster's skull.

Brain matter and blood oozed out like fluid from a punctured sac.

Yet the creature did not—could not—move, held fast by an imperious will.

Agony locked its jaws. Serrated teeth ground together, nearly piercing its own palate.

From the pulped grey matter, Lu Yan plucked a single eyeball.

Unlike the creature's other crimson orbs, this one held no emotion. Its iris was a serene, beautiful silver, its gaze faintly pitying.

The monster clutched its ruined head, writhing in agony. The chamber shuddered under its convulsions. Plaster and stone rained from the ceiling, plunging into the fetid green water with sickening plops, spraying putrid droplets everywhere.

A few specks of the foul water landed on Lu Yan's cheek.

He glanced down, then planted a foot on the creature's thrashing tail, pinning it still.

The monster lay twitching on the ground, its life force guttering out. A final, pitiful keen escaped it.

Lu Yan spoke. "Die."

The creature's heart stopped instantly. Flesh dissolved into slurry, blood transmuted to green lake water. The countless eyes dotting its body withered and fell, becoming sustenance for the parasitic fish. All that remained was a twisted, skeletal frame.

Lu Yan regarded his hand, slick and sticky with gore, with distaste.

He fitted the silver eyeball into his own empty socket.

The process was unnervingly mechanical, like changing the glass eyes of a mannequin. His fingers parted his eyelid, inserted the orb, and removed the old one—all without a single drop of blood.

The new eye didn't fit quite right. Lu Yan blinked, a dull ache spreading through the socket.

"You performed adequately," he said.

The system was silent for a long moment. [I serve at your pleasure.]

"I permit your betrayal."

[Your clemency is appreciated.]

At that moment, it was not just within the confines of Crohman Manor. Across the globe, in every corner of the world, those who looked up saw it—a moon tinged with baleful red light.

Full or crescent, it hung in the sky.

In the slaughterhouse of X City, an eight-headed lamia gazed toward the rising moon, seriously considering a temporary halt to her business ventures in other districts.

On the glaciers of the Gran Sea, a deep-black octopus, its newly grown tentacles studded with sapphire eyes that now squeezed shut against the red glow, strangled a deep-sea whale. It glanced at the moon overhead with disinterest before returning to its task.

At the Hound Base. 01 smoked a cigarette, a small red bird perched on his shoulder. At his feet, the man-faced dog labored over a report with its clumsy paws—Gong Weibin had no desire to die and needed to prove his worth. He had to devise a gentler, safer method to guide 04 and 09 toward perfect evolution.

01 frowned in puzzlement. "A moon in broad daylight. Feels like something good's happened, though."

07, the red bird, let out a soft, chirping cry.

In the Divine Kingdom, a massive, medium-rare roasted brain flower jolted awake from its slumber. Compressing itself to its smallest form, it huddled in a corner, shrieking in maddened terror. "It's him! It's him! He's returned! He's here!"

That day at the airport, it had sought vengeance for its youngest sibling and ended up getting all its brothers killed.

A City, First District, Pollution Disease Prevention Center Headquarters.

The monitoring technician could barely steady his hands. "Is the equipment malfunctioning? Why is the global pollution index rising simultaneously across all sectors?"

—"Team Leader Tang! We need Team Leader Tang!"

"He's already en route to the epicenter."

…

…

Only now, with this eye, was true omniscience achieved.

Every corner of the world unfolded within Lu Yan's mind.

He saw the aerial kingdoms built by evolved birds on floating islands, where avian humanoids mimicked human order and society. Along a coastline, fish-men crawled ashore to forage, only to be met with a storm of heavy-caliber fire. In K City, the staff of First People's Hospital held a group outing to voluntarily sweep the tomb of Director Hu…

Despair and hope, unfolding simultaneously in different corners of the globe.

"A beautiful world," Lu Yan remarked. "More beautiful than I imagined."

[As you will it.]

Lu Yan also saw something else. In his vision, a figure that resembled nothing more than a black lizard, hurrying toward this location.

Tang Xun'an was on his way.

Lu Yan lifted a finger, pointing idly at the empty air. "I don't like him."

[You could make him disappear.]

The younger brother pondered for a few seconds, then lowered his hand. "But big brother likes him."

This time, the system offered no reply.

It could not be sure if any answer, in this moment, might provoke the capricious entity it served.

Lu Yan drew the golden cross from his pocket.

He opened his mouth and, with an air of utter nonchalance, drove the cross through the center of his own tongue.

This cross had been prepared for him by the system from the very beginning.

A searing, branding pain shot from his tongue tip, scattering his memories and consciousness into fragments.

In an instant, Lu Yan remembered many things. The eternal, silent depths of the ancient sea. Their shared birthplace.

Lu Yan—or rather, the younger brother—closed his eyes.