English Novel
Chapter 33: Is that too much to ask?
Chapter 33: Is that too much to ask?
Unknown Place
"We've lost contact with the golden palace"
A man clad in darkness spoke to a blue light ball floating and circling around him.
[CONNECTING]
"Rasiel?"
[CONNECTING]
"You there"
[CONNECTING]
"Initiate manual override"
[CONNECTING]
[CONNECTION FAILED] – [ERROR – SERVER DOWN]
The blue ball of light flickers for a moment before slowly dimming and breaking apart with a cracking sound.
"Dammit! This never happened in the previous runs. Did that guy betray us?"
The dark cloaked figure spoke in an agitated tone as he collected the broken pieces of the blue ball that was now devoid of its previous light.
"What was he thinking? Why did he use a soul from the first chaos? And I can't even contact him now that he decided to self-destruct together with the first chaos. Was he hiding something?"
The endless void of space stretched out in every direction; darkness punctuated only by the faint glimmers of distant stars. The dark cloaked man paced back and forth; his movements made eerie by the dark cloak that seemed to swallow what little light there was.
The man abruptly halted his restless stride as a new presence manifested behind him.
"And what do we have here?"
The rich, commanding voice caused the man to jolt in surprise. He whirled around to face the newcomer—a being seemingly crafted from golden luminescence itself. In its radiant hand was clutched a sword that shone with the brilliance of a newborn star.
The point of that burning blade leveled squarely at the cowering dark figure.
Terror laced the man's rasping voice as he tried and failed to speak. "Y-you... y-you, you are..."
Before the words could fully form, the golden figure swung his sword.
*crack*
Reality itself fractured into a million glittering shards, the cosmic scene freezing and exploding outward like a broken pane of glass.
...
The courtyard was abuzz with anticipation as a steady stream of prospective disciples arrived, their expressions a mix of determination and trepidation. At the forefront, two esteemed cultivators presided over the proceedings.
Chen Mo, the Sect Master, sat impassively beside his senior disciple Mei Ling. Though his expression was serene, there was an intensity in his eyes as he evaluated each candidate. (jk, he was spamming skill 'Existence')
Suddenly, Chen Mo's brow furrowed as he clutched at his chest, a pained grunt escaping his lips. "Hmm..."
Mei Ling's head whipped around; her face etched with concern. "Is something wrong, Master?"
With an airy wave of his hand, Chen Mo rose from his seated position. "No, nothing. Continue without me."
The disciples-to-be exchanged confused glances as the imposing master prepared to take his leave. Mei Ling called out; her voice laced with uncertainty. "But Master, what about the recruitment?"
Chen Mo's reply was flippant, unconsciously revealing the depths of his distraction. "Recruit whoever you like, it doesn't matter."
With those words, he strode away, leaving a bewildered Mei Ling and a courtyard full of shocked onlookers in his wake. Though his gait remained steady, a keen observer might have noticed a slight tremor in his hands as he clutched his robes tightly.
...
Chen Mo burst through the doors to his private chambers, one hand clamped over his mouth as he doubled over in a fit of violent coughs. Crimson splattered across the front of his robes, stark against the pristine white fabric.
Staggering forwards, he sank into a cross-legged meditation pose upon the cushions. His brow furrowed in intense concentration as he attempted to reign in the turbulent energies raging within.
Earlier that day, his spiritual root had been damaged and now he couldn't absorb any more spiritual energy to calm down his now violent qi. He could only circulate the limited reserves of qi currently contained within his body.
And now that faltering supply was thrashing wildly out of control.
Of all the things that could possibly happen, this was the worst outcome.
'Activate skill [Existence]'
[
Failed to diagnose
]
Chen Mo's expression grew more strained by the second as he struggled to subdue the violent maelstrom. Sweat beaded along his hairline, his hands trembling faintly against his knees. If he couldn't suppress this upheaval soon, his diminishing spiritual energy would be exhausted entirely.
When that happened...even a cultivator of his prowess wouldn't survive and would fall into qi deviation.
Gritting his teeth, Chen Mo willed his mind to untangle the snarled knot of power coursing through his meridians.
'Rasiel, use skill [AllOfCreation] to fix my spiritual root'
[Negative] – [I can't use skill [AllOfCreation]]
"Dammit! I forgot about that"
'Yo still have data on my perfect state spiritual root right'
[Confirm] – [Yes, I do]
'Move it to memory'
[Report] – [Done]
'Time to do this the old-fashioned way'
'Activate skill [Development]'
'Activate skill [AllOfCreation]'
'Activate skill [Memory]'
'Activate skill [Scripting] – script: {
Use skill [Development] to create a spiritual root from [Memory];
Use skill [AllOfCreation] to replace my current spiritual root with the created one;
}'
[Script Loaded]
[Executing Script]
[Script Executed Successfully]
Massive cyclones of spiritual energy swirled around Chen Mo; the raging tempests of power drawn inexorably into the cultivator's body. As the last tendrils snaked through his meridians, he finally managed to find his center, the turmoil within gradually subsiding.
Yet his relief was fleeting. Though he had successfully repaired his spiritual root, a knot of dread still lingered. Unless he could pinpoint the catalyst behind his violent qi, he remained in grave danger.
Eyes closing, Chen Mo's consciousness receded inwards, plunging into the metaphysical realm of his soul space. When he first embarked upon the path of cultivation, this inner world had been utterly desolate—a barren, lifeless void. But now it was somewhat lively with all the laws he had integrated into it. There was even light in here.
His spiritual sense swept his surroundings, recoiling at what he found.
Gone was the resplendent golden palace that once thrummed with power at the heart of his soul space. That vital wellspring, the primordial source of his soul stability, had simply...disappeared.
Chen Mo thought that although he couldn't normally see the golden palace, he could always feel its presence deep inside his soul. He had even discovered that the palace was what sustained his soul and part of the reason why he had such a large soul space.
But now that it was gone, what remained was a crumbling wasteland, the bedrock of his soul space fragmented and dissolving at an alarming rate. Chen Mo's eyes flew open, wide with panic. At this accelerating pace of deterioration, his soul would completely disintegrate within the hour.
He was a dead man walking.
'Activate skill [Existence]'
[
Failed to diagnose
]
'Activate skill [Existence]'
[
Failed to diagnose
]
'Activate skill [Existence]'
[
Failed to diagnose
]
Visions and calculations flickered through his mind in rapid succession as he simulated every possible outcome, but each inevitably ended the same—in absolute failure. A scream tore from his lips as anguished realization set in.
He and that golden palace were inextricably linked. Without its anchoring presence, his soul simply lacked the strength to maintain this spiritual realm's integrity. It was all unraveling.
Chen Mo had always had a calm mind ever since he transmigrated into this world, now that he thought about it, he had never been a brave soldier so why was he always so calm and collected? Was it because of his self-confidence?
No! That wasn't it! Even when facing the Mei clan ancestor, he was still calm despite having no confidence in beating him.
This is... His mental strength came from his soul strength, it was not that he wasn't scared, it's just that his soul was too strong to be scared.
But now, as his previously strong soul broke down piece by piece in front of him, all his suppressed fear and despair started slipping through the cracks and attacking his weak mind.
"Why?!" Chen Mo clutched at his head, nails digging crescents into his scalp. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as chunks of his soul space collapsed into oblivion.
"I was just a boy obsessed with programming, dreaming of reaching the pinnacle of my craft! Was it too much to ask to shape the world through code?!" His voice cracked with raw despair. "I never asked for...for this!"
But there was no one to answer his anguished cries, no hint of mercy from the uncaring laws that governed this realm of immortals. All he could do was watch in horror as his soul—his very existence—blinked out piece by piece.
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