Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Fat flies buzzed among the dead, gathering at the wounds of corpses, licking the blood and flesh.
Scavenger birds circled in the sky.
Emitting strange, unpleasant cries.
Once they confirmed there was no danger, they would descend and peck at the corpses with their hard beaks.
One of the scavenger birds approached a corpse adorned with various bone and tooth decorations and painted with strange runes. The corpse had a smooth, teardrop-shaped head.
Its head had been pierced through.
A gruesome blood-hole remained at the center of its forehead. The scavenger bird looked at its three pairs of neatly arranged eyes.
One eyeball was pecked through, picked out by the beak, then tossed into the air and swallowed whole.
As it was about to peck the second one,
It instinctively sensed danger, flapped its wings violently, and flew into the sky.
And where the scavenger bird had just stood, a transparent figure emerged.
Its appearance was not much different from the corpse lying on the ground.
It had three pairs of eyes and a smooth, teardrop-shaped head.
All three pairs of eyes showed a confused expression. Then they slowly became clear.
Scanning its surroundings, it quickly found memories corresponding to the scene before it from its long-sealed past.
"Is this that battle? The war of extinction that plunged countless universes into flames."
The last memory in its mind was of that giant wolf biting its throat, violently shaking it. The indescribable pain made it lose the ability to think. That giant wolf possessed some strange power.
It, like itself, had a spiritual form. The act of biting the throat was a symbolic action to destroy its essence.
At that time, it felt like a rabbit whose throat had been bitten, no matter how hard it kicked its legs, it couldn't break free from the opponent's teeth.
It kept resisting, resisting. The later memories became hazy, with little impression left.
When it woke up again, it was in this place.
If its memories hadn't been tampered with, this was the catalyst for it to become a God of Distortion.
For some reason, it had returned to the war that changed its destiny. The sounds of roars and explosions rang out simultaneously.
Subconsciously, it looked in the direction from which the sounds came. That terrifying sight made its whole body tremble.
Just as it, then weak, had trembled. The sky was burning.
Blazing flames ascended along the spacetime structure.
Everything within sight would be reduced to ashes.
Shattered stars slowly disintegrated in the fiery sea of the sky.
Fragments turned into streaks of fire, streaking across the sky. The earth cracked with tremors, fissures spanning the entire surface.
Faintly, one could see the scorching red light emanating from the magma deep underground.
Aether poured into the mortal realm, and the barrier between illusion and reality was completely broken. The screams of the dead echoed through the spirit world. That terrifying aetheric storm was so furious it could devour everything. The sounds of slaughter still rang out, incredibly powerful beings fighting for their respective ideals and paths, turning world after world into ruins and dust.
Death stirred the aetheric ocean. The blood of the dead, their unwillingness, and their desperate wails before death, were all strangely fused in the spirit world, becoming nutrients, nurturing the daemons and nascent gods. This war was like a storm of destruction. Those powerful beings were swept up and torn apart by the storm of destruction like ants.
Even those proclaimed immortal and eternal found it difficult to withstand the harm inflicted by their peers. Those called gods fell from the void. Their massive corpses turned into restricted zones on the surface, ravaged by aetheric storms. Their deaths even gave birth to new beings, distorting the laws of a place, turning it into a scorching land of magma, or a land of extreme ice.
It was evident how terrifying the power these deceased beings wielded in life. Those beings who surpassed everything poured all their strength into killing each other, and countless worlds were destroyed by the aftermath of their battles and the chaotic skirmishes of their followers. This world, where one could only see corpses at a glance, was a casualty of the war between those powerful beings. That war was beyond words.
Countless realms were pierced through, and the grand dao they had shaped was broken.
World after world turned into ruins. Tragedy was everywhere, and countless cultivation worlds declined.
Blood flowed like rivers everywhere, with countless casualties.
Standing on the desolate, annihilated battlefield, gazing at the corpses of the fallen and the tattered banners burned to shreds.
Despair and death swept over like a bursting dam.
Drowning it, giving it a suffocating feeling.
It was as weak now as it had been then.
Just a faith avatar of a tiny race.
In that widespread war, it was practically cannon fodder. The scale of that war was so vast and terrifying.
Gods were like pathetic insects within it.
A slight misstep and they would be completely crushed. Their bodies annihilated, their dao extinguished, reduced to ashes.
No living being could remain aloof. The tide of the era was destined to sweep up all living beings, whether gods or tiny ants.
No matter how they struggled, it was futile. The advent of the epochal change was so sudden, so fast that all living beings were caught off guard.
Everything they knew collapsed at an unimaginable speed.
Before the advent of technology, all races were learning and experimenting with how to utilize the power of the spirit world, evolving various so-called cultivation paths. Those worlds were also not elliptical planets, but rather flat, circular worlds. Ten thousand races stood tall, and all heavens were connected.
cultivators constantly traveled to other universes.
cultivating beings could be seen everywhere.
Everyone was pouring all their efforts into becoming stronger.
Imagine, what a prosperous era that was.
At that time, it was still a small spirit, relying on the faith of a few small races, trying to perfect its divine path.
In those days, everything else was inferior, only cultivation was supreme.
As time went on, the path of cultivation became more and more complete.
In the end, there were even supreme grand powers who connected numerous universes, allowing for mutual exchange and making cultivation even more prosperous.
In the cultivation world, strength was revered. The strong could live for countless years, coexisting with heaven and earth, shining with the sun and moon. Their power was unimaginably strong and terrifying.
With a flick of a hand or foot, they could move mountains and fill seas, change the sky and alter the day.
And those unimaginable supreme beings at the very peak of the cultivation path wielded unimaginably transcendent and mighty power.
Each one had reached the end. Time and space could no longer trace their existence.
Located at the unreachable end. They were the cause of all things, the effect of all things, the beginning of all things, and the end of all things.
With a single thought, they could create all things.
Even in dreams, they could evolve and create countless universes, and transform myriad laws. Their power was infinitely great, capable of distorting and changing all laws.
Beyond the river of time and space, immortal and indestructible, omniscient and omnipotent. Transcending the so-called eternity, dao, and myriad worlds.
Not bound by time, space, or universes.
From ancient times to the present, and into the future, all could be dissipated with a single thought.
A mere glance could shatter myriad worlds, reverse time and space, and reshape everything. Those beings were so powerful. They surpassed everything. That era had reached the pinnacle of utilizing the power of the spirit world.
Strong cultivators could destroy a world in an instant.
A truly extraordinary golden age.
All living beings believed this era would last forever.
Who could shake this incredibly powerful era?
Even those at the top of the pyramid, omniscient, omnipotent, and eternally free in all time and space, could not overthrow this era.
Yet, this seemingly powerful and glorious age burst like a bubble.
An unprecedented upheaval, never seen before, emerged, sparking chaos.
No one knew who pioneered the path of technology. The emergence of technology shattered all previous understandings.
People no longer focused solely on themselves, but instead used teamwork to forge new paths, continuing to advance the path of truth that had already reached its end. The forces utilizing technology were initially very weak. Their crude weapons couldn't even pierce the hide of a beast.
But its development speed was too fast; it could cross a new level in a few hundred or thousand years.
A strong cultivator would meditate for tens of thousands of years.
Yet technology could rapidly develop in such a short time and could also be passed down. Transmitters and users did not require overly stringent conditions.
Even mortals could easily learn and master it.
Rapidly developing technology allowed ordinary beings to wield extraordinary power.
Power was no longer exclusive to those favored by the spirit world. The development of technology was so rapid.
If used properly, a few thousand or tens of thousands of years could surpass an extraordinary force that had been established for hundreds of millions of years.
In the later stages, the advantage of technology almost crushed the extraordinary.
With a large number of scientific researchers and the collision of various intellectual forces, technology found it easier to build new paths at the end of truth than the extraordinary.
Moreover, the existence of technology allowed people to transition from passively understanding and adapting to their surroundings to actively understanding and changing them.
On the path of extraordinary cultivation, the older something was, the more powerful it became. Those beings would go digging graves, searching for objects that could withstand the erosion of time, to enhance their strength.
If they could find a few ancient cultivation techniques, they could even turn their fortunes around, become top-tier experts, marry peerless beauties, and reach the pinnacle of life.
In the realm of technology, the newer something was, the greater its value. The older something was, the more its performance and reliability would be greatly reduced.
Scientific researchers would constantly develop new things. Technological iteration would become faster and faster. The forces utilizing technology rapidly grew stronger and clashed with the old forces.
In the extraordinary era, social hierarchy was very fixed. The strong possessed lifespans and power unattainable by the weak.
Society maintained a stagnant state for a long time.
After all, even if the weak united, they couldn't compare to a single word from the strong.
However, the rise of technology gave the weak the ability to resist.
A hundred years of cultivation was not as good as the opponent's single firearm.
A thousand years of cultivation was not as good as the opponent's single high-yield nuclear bomb. The even more terrifying industrialization and assembly-line enhancement brought by technology were a dimensionality reduction strike for extraordinary cultivators. The changing of old and new eras is often accompanied by blood and war. The traditional extraordinary forces wanting to maintain the status quo and the radical faction wanting to move towards a new era erupted in an unprecedented war. This war was not merely a struggle between technology and the extraordinary.
Rather, it was a struggle between two ideologies, a transformation between a new era and an old one. The radicals advocated for living beings to actively observe the universe, analyze its various rules and principles, and then use these rules and principles to create their own tools. The conservatives advocated not to change too much, but to go with the flow, coexist harmoniously with the great dao of the universe, excavate the power of their own minds, and leverage the power of the spirit world.
Coupled with the chaotic battles between different races and the struggle for interests among the powerful,
Even those omniscient and omnipotent beings who transcended time and space, in order to advance further and suppress their competitors' schemes, ultimately caused that great war that destroyed everything.
It walked through the battlefield, permeated with the smell of blood and gunpowder.
Residual extraordinary power scattered as arcs of light in the air.
Occasionally, terrifying killing intent was contained within them. Too many had died.
Countless dead.
As far as the eye could see, there were only corpses, and even the spirit world was filled with the unwilling roars of the dead.
"Have I been killed? Is this what eternal nothingness looks like?"
It calmly muttered to itself.
It didn't know why it had returned to this place.
Did this battlefield have some special meaning?
Or was it simply reborn?
It sorted through its memories, desperately trying to recall what happened after the giant wolf bit its throat.
No matter how hard it tried, it could only vaguely remember the heartbreaking screams of its followers and their various attempts to save it.
Without it, they would become slaves to the pawns of other gods. There was never any benevolence to speak of in the chaotic spirit world.
It was just that cruel.
All of that was irrelevant to it now.
Whether it was dead or not, it couldn't change that fact. That giant wolf had defeated it and taken its power.
Even if it could return to that domain, it would quickly lose its dominion and eventually become a puppet of other gods.
It walked forward, wanting to further explore its surroundings and understand its situation.
Mountains were torn apart, rivers flowed with crimson blood, and broken corpses floated within them, carried by the blood flow. The corpses of gods were terrifying, lying there like mountain ranges.
Some corpses even soared into the clouds, obscured by clouds of black smoke and blood mist.
In the distance of the battlefield, burning corpses emitted plumes of black smoke, spewing into the sky. The scent of blood entered its mouth, a bitter taste spreading across its taste buds.
"Everything has been destroyed, the end of the extraordinary era. Looking back now, it truly seems like a hell."
It kept walking forward.
Everywhere its gaze fell was destruction and corpses.
No matter where it walked, it was the same.
No living beings, only corpses, flies, and scavenger birds.
Finally, it could no longer bear it and began to run wildly.
Running across the ruins of that battlefield that destroyed everything and made all living beings tremble.
However, the battlefield was infinitely vast.
It felt like it had run for a century, yet still saw only the battlefield.
Nothing had changed.
Death, black smoke, flies, scavenger birds.
Even when it ventured deep into the restricted zones formed by the gods' corpses, there was only this.
"No!!"
Who knows how much time had passed.
It finally knelt on the ground, howling in despair.
Why was it trapped here???
Its collapse seemed to fulfill a certain condition. The chaotic, smoke-filled battlefield shattered like glass.
Everything on the battlefield vanished.
In its place was a brand new world.
It was pulled back to another memory node.
After that destructive war, it wandered for a long time.
Deprived of sustenance, its consciousness became hazy, tormented by primal hunger and thirst.
Craving flesh and souls.
It drifted in a daze, not knowing how much time had passed.
At some point, it joined the camp of the Lord of Reincarnation.
Participating in the creation of the Reincarnation Game.
Many surviving peers were with it.
After the storm brought by the extinction war subsided, survivors rebuilt those worlds from the desolate ruins.
Seeking lost things through repeated cosmic reincarnations. They established a new order, completely different from the previous cultivation order. The Reincarnation Game ran smoothly.
It was embedded within the universe's cycle of reincarnation; as long as the Lord of Reincarnation lived, even if the universe was destroyed and restarted, the Reincarnation Game would reappear. The wisdom of the Lord of Reincarnation was unimaginable; the Reincarnation Game it created allowed it to regain its power.
By tormenting and abusing those players, it could harvest high-quality souls and emotions. These were the sources of its power.
Of course, some peers referred to them as soul power or divine essence. The essence was the same.
It learned from a god and created the City of Distortion, establishing grotesque-themed dungeons. These dungeons are low-cost and high-yield, with the only drawback being that you can't act as you please; you must adhere to the rules. The rules of the Reincarnation Game are unshakeable. This is fundamental to the game's existence.
Arbitrarily changing the rules would lead to the game's collapse.
"Scene reset. Increasing variables to stimulate greater emotional fluctuations in the target, facilitating the implantation of memory reading devices."
A cold, mechanical voice emanated from a skull-shaped machine, echoing through the vast laboratory.
Several light screens also displayed the retrieved memory information. The Twisted God's memories were being read by the Mechanicum without obstruction.
Its birth and growth experiences were laid bare. They were played back like a video and then archived.
Who would have thought that the creator of the Twisted City, who had made countless players almost wet their pants in fear, also had such a period of arduous struggle and growth?
Paul, as the intelligence group manager, was fortunate enough to stand beside these Imperial researchers, observing how they studied, and even dissected, a god. The Twisted God, imprisoned in a cell, was transferred to a new device. The entire device was made of active glass, capable of absorbing and suppressing Aetheric power, preventing the experimental subject from rioting. The Twisted God's body was placed in a liquid composed of nanometer molecular robots. The liquid was dense, and the miniaturized Twisted God was only barely visible as a silhouette.
Numerous devices were connected to its body.
Several tech-priests in red robes were busy around the machine. The servo-skulls connected to their metallic spines were emitting prayers.
Suspended light screens moved as they walked.
Magos Biologis Kuwoz stood at a control console with numerous suspended screens, issuing commands to the tech-priests through binary language.
"Progress meets requirements. Praise the Emperor and all Data Saints. Focus on extracting its memory data related to the creation of the Reincarnation Game, and simultaneously analyze its growth process to understand how it acquired the ability to twist rules."
The tech-priests moved swiftly. They meticulously executed the Magos Biologis' orders. They repeatedly verified the data and operated a series of complex detection protocols on the control panel. The mechanical hum fluctuated with their operations. The Twisted God's face occasionally showed excitement, and at other times, pain. The devices were creating an illusion for it, to facilitate the breaching of its mental defenses.
Each collapse meant that the Imperium had opened another one of its mental defenses.
If all went as expected, it would soon succumb and become shaped by the Imperium.
Allowing this gang of mechanical tentacles from the Mechanicum to ravage it at will.
Paul watched a god being manipulated so easily and couldn't help but click his tongue in wonder.
It seemed that soon, the entire Reincarnation Game would fall into the Imperium's hands.
"We need more samples."
As Paul was engrossed in his observation, a mechanical voice startled him.
He turned his head and saw Magos Biologis Kuwoz.
Half-flesh, half-mechanical face was less than twenty centimeters away from him.
He could even see the gears and electronic components within the Magos Biologis' bionic eyes. The Magos Biologis' metallic spine was bent. To ensure his head was at the same level as Paul's.
His neck was long, composed of articulated plast-steel plates.
Nerve bundles were hidden beneath. The Magos Biologis wore a voluminous red robe.
Numerous bionic implants were hidden within the robe.
Several pairs of manipulators extended from the robe. There were also several active neural conduits connected to servo-skulls.
"Magos," Paul said respectfully, "The intelligence group has gathered as much as possible. Please give us some time."
"The enemy will not give us time," a servo-skull's voice chimed in. "Your efficiency is too slow; you must be faster."
"I understand," Paul nodded. "I will make them speed up."
Having received Paul's assurance, Magos Biologis Kuwoz rotated his massive body. The clanking sound of metallic feet hitting the carbon-steel floor echoed.
Paul uncontrollably thought that if he were to be stepped on by the Magos Biologis' foot, his bones would surely break.
After observing for a bit longer, Paul turned and left.
He still had to supervise the work.
He had not misjudged Litte after all; his mind was agile, and he immediately found the big boss behind the Twisted City. The capable must work harder.
What rest?!
One must dedicate oneself to the great cause of the Emperor until death.
Only those useless to the Emperor would rest. Thinking this, Paul waved his hand and pulled up his own management interface.
He directly rejected Litte's vacation request.
Work your ass off for me.
Nagase Taku, back in the real world, was still shaken. The Reincarnation Space had been blown up by those guys.
When they left, even the private areas were shattered, and countless cracks appeared in spacetime.
Now, the entire space was probably already lost.
When he returned, he appeared right in his rental apartment.
Clearly, the Reincarnation Game returned players to where they were captured from.
He checked the time and found that nine hours had passed.
Evidently, the dungeon time in the Reincarnation Game and real-world time were not synchronized.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
His phone rang, and several news notifications popped up.
"A certain major power repeatedly conducts military exercises in our waters, bullying our Yamato people??"
"We hope the public can be rational patriots and not be provoked by isolated incidents."
Nagase Taku closed all these news articles.
At that moment, another news item popped up.
"Special News: The Yamato Evolver Management Regulations have passed parliamentary vote and will officially be implemented on June 1st."
Nagase Taku was just about to click on it. Thump! Thump! Thump!
The door was knocked.
He opened the door to see a man in samurai attire followed by several police officers.
"Who are you?" Nagase Taku showed a wary expression.
"Hello, Player Nagase Taku." The samurai-clad man immediately revealed Nagase Taku's player identity.
He had just returned from the Beginner Level and hadn't told anyone about it!
Even the gym guy and his friends didn't know his real-world identity. The fact that they knew his identity so quickly indicated a truly terrifying power behind them.
"We are from the Yamato Special Department, and we are here to invite Sir Nagase Taku to join."
"I don't want to be involved in these matters." Nagase Taku shook his head. The Reincarnation Space had been blown up. The Zealots could arrive here at any moment!
And they still had the mind to form factions?
"Serving the nation is the duty of every Yamato person." The samurai said, enunciating each word: "We must strive for self-improvement; how can we be so selfish? There's an old Eastern saying: 'If it benefits the country, I will face death without hesitation; how can I avoid it for personal fortune or misfortune?'"
Nagase Taku scanned the man up and down.
In this era, those who could practice swordsmanship were either rich or noble.
Don't think that practicing swordsmanship doesn't cost money.
Just the coaches and sparring partners alone were a huge expense.
And being able to wander the streets with a sword.
Without some capital and background, don't even think about it.
After all, it was good enough for the miserable corporate slaves to just eat their fill; they absolutely couldn't spend money on such things. This guy clearly came from a good background, no wonder he spoke with such righteous indignation.
"Sorry, I still don't want to." Nagase Taku directly refused.
"How truly lamentable. As a Yamato person, do you have no samurai spirit left? So cowardly and selfish??"
"Then what do you take me for? A Bodhisattva?" Nagase Taku said with great disgust, "I almost died in the dungeon. Now you come up and demand my service, trying to pressure me with some bullshit grand cause? Look at yourself, whether it's for Yamato or for you, that's probably a big question mark! Go recruit those well-dressed people. If they all die in battle, then I will naturally go protect Yamato."
Hearing these words, the samurai's face showed a hint of displeasure.
Defending the homeland is a duty; how can one choose not to fulfill it because of past discrimination and injustice?
Such a person is too worthless.
Even if they enter the game, become a player, and gain power, they will only be a selfish bystander.
Out of consideration for the other party's player status, the samurai did not immediately lash out. This world had just entered the game; everyone was a novice.
If they started fighting, they might unexpectedly suffer a setback.
So he left indignantly with the police.
Nagase Taku ignored him.
He hadn't enjoyed any benefits, so why should he step forward?
Let him fight to the death while those high and mighty people enjoyed themselves.
Go eat shit!
Thinking of this, Nagase Taku suddenly remembered the Zealots.
"I almost forgot about this. With the Reincarnation Space destroyed, those Zealots will surely arrive in this world soon. I need to quickly discuss a plan with my other teammates."