Chapter 95

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Chapter 95: Title

“Is it comparable to Senior Ji Lang?” Hu Mei scrutinized the red-furred mole demon with uncertainty, finding nothing remarkable about its appearance.

“Merely a possibility of resistance. Should this creature be likened to your sword cultivators, that particular sword cultivator might personally arrive to cleave it in twain, purging what he’d deem a scourge upon the Nine Regions.”

Ao Ming’s lips curved faintly. During the negotiations between human cultivators and spirit cultivators, the Kunlun Mountains had been deliberately chosen as neutral ground—a territory guarded by that very sword cultivator they’d once encountered.

His elder brother had assessed the swordsman’s strength at tier seven, a realm transcending mortality to brush against celestial heights.

To juxtapose this Tier One vermin against immortalized human paragons bordered on sacrilege.

Over a week had passed since the emergence of abyssal creatures. Throughout this period, the Special Bureau had encountered numerous cases of abyssal aura infection. Yet despite every effort, all victims inevitably perished.

When even souls succumbed to the abyss’s corrosion, destroying the physical form became the sole means to eradicate the clinging abyssal power—a grim necessity to grant spirits passage to reincarnation.

Otherwise, they transformed into puppets of the void. More insidiously, prolonged exposure risked contagion, particularly among those lacking resolve.

“Why withhold this initially? Had we known, perhaps we could’ve—” Zhang Wutong’s words faltered as he spoke.

Willpower proved mercurial—an attribute all might claim, yet few truly possessed.

“Did I decree inevitable death? Even that sword cultivator refrained from absolutes. Your own authorities speak of rescue attempts… yet none survive.”

Ao Ming’s frigid detachment toward mortal lives prickled the gathering’s sensibilities. Still, they lacked grounds for reproach. Their compassion stemmed from shared humanity—a bond meaningless to spirit cultivators.

The spiritfolk were paradoxical—united under the Nine Extreme Demon Lords’ banner yet fractious, capable of both selfless sacrifice and fratricidal pragmatism.

They nurtured familial bonds, yet exiled unawakened young ones to fend as Demonic Beasts—an act humans would condemn as monstrous, yet mundane in spirit cultivator society.

The red-furred mole’s doom had been foreordained, its expiration date the sole variable.

Ao Ming’s unforeseen intervention altered fate’s tapestry, weaving what mortals called a “thread of hope” through the unseen barrier—a lifeline now dangling before the rat demon’s claws.

“Do you crave survival?”

The mole demon stiffened before blurting, “With every fiber of my being!”

Zhang Wutong’s group observed silently. All wondered what method the dragon prince might employ, especially as Zhongxia’s abyssal disturbances persisted.

“Maintain this stasis for ten days without deterioration,” Ao Ming decreed to the fortunate rodent, “and I shall intervene.”

Murmurs rippled through the observers. The abyss’s fatality rate loomed large—seven days endured, but ten more? Likely ending in twisted monstrosity or cold carcass.

“Depart. It remains confined these ten days.” Ao Ming turned toward the exit.

Zhang Wutong paled, chasing after despite Han Jing’s earlier warnings about diplomatic restraint.

“Your Highness, sustaining these formations another ten days after continuous operation…”

Hu Mei’s ears flicked toward Qiao Feiyu. “Is Captain Zhang haggling with the dragon prince? Does our branch truly hemorrhage funds so?”

“Perceptive,” Qiao Feiyu deadpanned, striding after the departing figures.

Meeting room.

Zhang Wutong stood on the platform outlining the operation plan, his grave gaze sweeping over subordinates and Special Bureau reinforcements seated below. "This mission’s codename is ‘Rodent Purge.’ Given the labyrinthine sewer network’s unsealable exits, our prime objective remains eliminating the progenitor abyssal worm."

"Once destroyed, its spawn shall perish."

"The abyssal worm’s nest lies approximately 100 meters beyond Yintai Shopping Mall in Bell Tower District. Our task is to penetrate…" The curtain rose on Hanzhou City’s rat demon eradication campaign.

*

"The Global Special Events Association’s reply has arrived," announced Xi Ning’s secretary, breathlessly entering with a steaming report.

The Association’s chatroom – a recent coalition of national special departments – typically maintained sepulchral silence, reserved for crises spanning Blue Star rather than individual nations. This marked its inaugural activation since creation, the abyssal threat being planetary in scope.

Xi Ning’s eyes devoured the document. Moments later, he lowered the faxed pages, features hardening. "What good’s this vague response?"

Upon discovering Blue Star’s persistent spatial passage to the abyss beneath hell’s seals – housing an imprisoned abyssal deity’s avatar – the Special Bureau had urgently sought international intelligence sharing. Diplomatic circumlocution eventually yielded two revelations: one promising, one dire.

The grim truth implicated Western hell’s abyssal deity avatar in simultaneously destabilizing hell and exploiting infernal-human realm conduits to open varied abyssal fissures, unleashing swarms of abyssal creatures. Worse, the weakened avatar had likely partitioned power into the human realm, demanding heightened vigilance.

The silver lining? Hell’s containment held. Abyssal fissures would remain sealed temporarily – though "temporary" remained undefined.

Xi Ning massaged his temples. Controlling abyssal creatures required abyssal connections, implying they must first neutralize the avatar’s dispersed energy. "Verification status?"

"Triple-confirmed, sir."

"Half-measures are stopgaps at best. Summon Lin Jing immediately." Zhongxia’s controlled situation couldn’t justify neglecting external crises, yet their extraordinary individuals were finite – borrowed time couldn’t become permanent.

*

Human realm timeline: Two days prior in hell

"Truthfully, Belial?" Michael surged upright, reeling from the revelation that the sealed deity’s avatar instigated the abyssal unrest.

"Mammon and the King’s own words," Belial confirmed, lounging indolently.

"Current status?"

"Seals reinforced. The abyss’ waning power buys us respite. No imminent threats."

"Respite?" Michael’s voice sharpened. "The human realm teems with abyssal vermin! Their existential persistence demands eradication!"

"Your ‘waning power’ explains their endurance – abyssal patronage sustains them. No, some latent force puppeteers this!"

Memories of past abyssal ravages resurfaced – entire cities crumbling beneath hundreds of Abyss Priests… The pattern repeated.

"Belial, I depart."

"So soon?" The demon lord yawned, indifferent to surface-world plights. Hell’s containment held; let heaven fret over human tribulations.

"Critical matters await."

Belial watched Michael’s exit with amusement. Let the abyss consume the human realm first; other realms could wait.

Cloaked in black, Michael traversed the hell gate. Assuming an anonymous angelic guise through paradise’s gates, he shed deception mid-flight, wings carrying him heavenward.

"Metatron?" Michael halted mid-stride, confronting the silver-haired archivist in his office.

"Raphael’s doing. Human realm emergencies required your unavailable presence." Metatron’s quill never paused across celestial documents.

"Raphael’s whereabouts?"

"Power-depleted. Recuperating."

"How?" Michael’s concern spiked.

"Repeated mortal-plane descents. Total power expenditure each visitation."

"Frequency?"

"Sevenfold."

Michael’s brow furrowed like stormy heavens. Approaching an obsidian mirror, he channeled grace to glimpse the human realm’s bleeding landscapes.