405: Chapter 405 Mo Yuan's Fury, Another Conspiracy Brewing

Just three seconds after the high-frequency shockwaves at the east gate of Qiming Plain vanished, a faint, ghostly light quietly flickered out deep within a rock wall hundreds of feet underground.

It was neither natural light nor the flow of Spiritual Qi, but a psionic mirror suspended in mid-air. After reflecting the final afterimage of the scorched battlefield in the distance, it shattered with a bang.

The fragments fell like black sand, ground into nothingness by an invisible force before they could even touch the ground.

"Bang!"

A loud crash tore through the dead silence. The four walls of the secret chamber trembled, and stone chips rustled as they fell.

A figure in the center stood up abruptly. He was tall and thin, encased in a silver-gray mechanical shell, his facial features so cold and stern they hardly seemed human.

His hands were clenched into tight fists, his nails having long since pierced his palms. Blood dripped between his fingers, hitting the floor—which was carved with eerie runes—with a soft "hissing" sound, as if it were being corroded by something.

"Failed... it's all over." His voice was low and raspy, yet carried a twisted, nursery-rhyme cadence. "They couldn't even last three days? A bunch of trash! Useless! Idiots!"

Before his voice faded, he snapped his head up. Two clusters of dark purple flames suddenly ignited in his eye sockets, illuminating the entire secret chamber.

A metal plate hung on the wall, branded with a Family crest—three interlocking lightning bolts surrounding a broken sword. It was the Chen Family emblem.

"The Chen Family!" he roared, his voice rolling like thunder through the narrow space, causing cracks to spread across the rocks overhead. "No! This is impossible!

I personally set the trap! I chose the people! I provided the blueprints, the intelligence, and the signal channels!

How did you win? Why are you still alive?"

He rushed to the wall and smashed his fist against the metal plate, sparks flying from the impact of his knuckles against the metal.

The entire plate dented, the crest twisting and deforming, but he did not stop. He punched it again and again, each strike accompanied by a snarl:

"I said I would make your Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering! I said I would nail you to the pillar of historical shame! How dare you resist? How dare you be victorious?!"

His fists finally split open, becoming a bloody mess, yet his mechanical body seemed unable to feel pain. Instead, he struck even harder.

"I don't accept this! I don't admit defeat! This isn't the end! This is only the beginning! The beginning!!"

He stopped suddenly, panting heavily, his chest heaving. A flicker of confusion flashed in his purple-flame eyes before they returned to a dark gloom.

"Was I too hasty?" he muttered to himself, turning toward a black stone table in the corner of the room. On it sat several miniature Puppet models, labeled "Northern Territory," "Western Star," and "Southern Border."

At this moment, all three models were broken, their Spiritual Qi completely gone.

"These people... they don't understand the meaning of 'total destruction' at all."

He let out a cold laugh, his finger tracing the break at a model's neck. "They still thought of negotiations, compromises, and leaving a way out. But in war, there has only ever been one path—either you die, or I do."

He paced slowly, his footsteps gradually shifting from frantic to steady. Every step left a faint scorch mark on the floor.

"I can't break the Chen Family's defensive line from the front... Their technology is too strong, the System is too bizarre, and that Chen Wuwang... he's not human at all."

He gritted his teeth. "The last time 'Psionic Code-ification' backfired on my consciousness, I still remember that feeling to this day—

It was like countless fine needles stabbing into my Soul, like a data stream collapsing the dam of my thoughts... Heh, ridiculous. I was supposed to transcend emotion, yet he forced anger out of me."

He stopped walking and stood in the center of the secret chamber, closing his eyes.

Images of the past surfaced in his mind: three years ago, disguising himself as an Angel Merchant Caravan to infiltrate the Alliance, using mental pollution to trigger internal strife among minor clans;

Two years ago, detonating a psionic bomb at the Multi-Realm Exchange, causing a thousand Cultivators to evaporate on the spot;

Six months ago, attempting to manipulate a Chen Family traitor to activate an internal self-destruct sequence, only to be Sealed for seven days by Lin Zhenzi using Reverse Rune Chains...

Every time, he was thwarted.

Every time, he was just short.

"Because they were prepared." He opened his eyes, his pupils having turned into vertical slits like fissures into the abyss. "That System... it can always foresee crises in advance. It's as if... the Heavenly Dao is on their side."

His lip twitched, and he suddenly laughed. "But what if the power I can wield is something even the Heavenly Dao has never seen?"

His laughter was low at first, then grew louder, finally turning into a manic roar: "Hahahaha—! That's right! Since the Righteous Path won't tolerate you and evil methods won't accept you, then what exactly are you?

Just a heretic who uses technology to steal the secrets of heaven! I don't need to use the rules of your world to defeat you...

I will use rules that do not belong to this world to erase you from the very root!"

He raised his hand, and a mass of pitch-black mist condensed at his fingertips. The mist twisted constantly, forming an unnameable symbol with edges that writhed as if devouring the light.

"The whispers of the Great Old Ones... the forbidden knowledge I sacrificed my flesh for three hundred years ago... I never dared to use it, fearing it would consume me."

He stared at the black mist, his eyes filled with both fear and excitement. "But now... I have nothing left. The defeat is set? No, it's not over yet.

As long as I am still alive, as long as I can still hear that voice... this game will never end!"

He slowly pressed his palm against his chest, where a pulsing black core was embedded. With every beat, a faint chanting sound emerged, like the whispers of some ancient language.

"Listen, old friend," he said softly. "Let's try one more time. This time, I don't seek victory; I only seek destruction.

Destroy the Chen Family, destroy that System, destroy all the blasphemers... As long as you give me power, I am willing to pay even more—even if I go completely mad, even if I suffer Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering."

The black core jolted violently, and the whispers suddenly became clear, synchronizing with his heartbeat.

He took a deep breath and turned to look once more toward where the shattered psionic mirror had been, as if he could still see Chen Wuwang's figure standing on the high slope thousands of miles away.

"Just you wait," he said quietly, his tone no longer furious but cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice. "You think you've won? No, you've only dodged the blade. The true darkness... has only just descended."

He raised his right hand and slowly drew a twisted symbol in the air. Where his fingertips passed, the air rippled, leaving a black mark that lingered for a long time.

That mark looked like the outline of a door.

He stood in place, motionless.

Silence returned to the secret chamber, save for the rhythmic pulsing of the black core and the faint, ethereal whispers coiling around him.

In the distance, a faint light appeared on the eastern horizon.

A new day had begun.

But he remained standing in the deepest part of the darkness, staring into the Void Realm, black marks lingering on his fingertips, eyes narrowed, not moving an inch.