I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 889 - 889 888. The Way Out of Life

Chapter 889: 888. The Way Out of Life Chapter 889: 888. The Way Out of Life Baobao didn’t respond to the other’s words, she was well aware that, even though both were avatars, the other’s spiritual standing was much higher than hers.

The Dark One was, after all, a legitimate incarnation, while she was merely an avatar of The Swelling Lady in the Foreign Domain—by lineage, she should call the other “Grandfather.”

She didn’t know why the other had appeared here, but of course, there was no issue with him being here.

These incarnations cherished following their whims.

They went wherever they wished and did whatever they wanted.

Human beings live in the world, their behaviors and actions generally have an internal logic, whether that logic is reasonable or acceptably by the masses, but they didn’t need that.

However, The Swelling Lady and The Dark One clearly did not get along.

One always thought about stabbing their own source in the back, while the other preferred to make the world more bustling and lively.

Of course, if, just hypothetically, The Swelling Lady were actually successful in stabbing their own source, then the fall of an Outer God would lead to a dispersion of authority, their power would be inherited by various avatars, and The Dark One would naturally get a share—a delightful affair.

But the issue lay in the fact that the power and authority among these avatars differed little; if an avatar could stab their source, why couldn’t an avatar’s incarnation do the same?

Among avatars, there too were such disputes. If The Swelling Lady took out The Dark One, then the power inherited by The Dark One would pass onto The Swelling Lady.

Even if some Ancient Overlords formed partnerships unconsciously, they could never truly be companions.

Thus, here, Baobao felt a sense of danger.

“You are very unique.”

The dark-skinned, handsome, and tall young man said as he looked at Baobao.

Baobao did not answer, contemplating how to respond.

However, the man didn’t plan to continue conversing and turned to leave the house.

“What are you going to do?”

Baobao called out to him.

“I left some things here in the past; recently I suddenly remembered and decided to check them out, but found they were already broken. I’m too lazy to fix them now, but since I came, I should leave something.”

The dark-skinned man unusually responded, perhaps because he felt a faint connection between them.

“Are you going to destroy this place?”

Baobao immediately grasped his meaning.

The man was like a child who finally found his once-favorite toy, only to see that the toy was already dirty and decided to smash it thoroughly, preventing others from touching it.

“Destroy? You might say so, but let me describe it as Sublimation.”

The man replied.

“What if I say no?”

Out of nowhere, Baobao blurted out.

The dark-skinned man looked strangely at the beautiful young girl in front of him. He seemed to realize something and then suddenly came to terms.

“Of course, you can.”

He replied, his lips curving into a smile.

Baobao had no chance to react; her entire being lost form, collapsed, dissolved, turned into a pool of flesh, rapidly evaporated, leaving not even a residue behind.

There was no confrontation, no struggle, no gambit.

Just one glance, and it was already settled.

Just a small avatar, the man didn’t care, he walked out of the house, onto the streets.

The damp wind brushed by, many had already been contaminated, they lay on the ground, struggling in pain, their wails interweaving into a symphony that intoxicated him.

“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die!”

Someone struggling clutched at the trousers of the only standing man, pleading bitterly.

The man stopped, crouched down, and looked at the person with pity. He reached out and gently caressed his cheek, as if this action could soothe the pain and alleviate the anxiety.

The expression on the person’s face eased, he stopped moaning, and his movements relaxed considerably.

The next moment, the man’s mouth opened.

It was like turning a garment inside out from the neckline, he stuck out his tongue, and starting from there, the tongue extended infinitely outside the mouth, the inside of his body unfolding like a blooming mandrake, and several pairs of jointed limbs emerged from within the flesh, a spider made of flesh appeared on the ground.

There was a pained human face on the back of the spider, countless tentacles writhing, giving it a chillingly eerie feeling.

“Look, there will be no more pain.”

The man said with a smile.

The spider’s legs wriggled continuously, it quickly crawled towards other struggling people; the head, with a mouthpart made of four tentacles, directly plunged into the mouth of its kin, forcibly pulling out the insides, and in a blink, another spider appeared in the city.

Screams of terror immediately filled the streets, those humans who could still move fled in desperation, tumbling and crawling to get away from the area.

The dark-skinned man appeared quite at ease, walking amidst the fear.

Had there been a bit of Bach or Beethoven’s symphony to accompany him, it would likely have highlighted his composure even more.

He did not utter typical villain lines like “I am the beginning, and I am the end” while walking, that one finds in some movies; he just strolled leisurely, yet each step he took caused the humans around him to mutate into those massive flesh spiders, continually spreading and multiplying throughout the city.

Soon, even before the torrential rain arrived, this place would become a city of monsters.

In another corner of the city.

Hippocrates looked at the explorers from the academy before him.

“You must leave Utopia immediately, go as far as you can, and treat this place as forbidden land, never to return.”

He ordered.

Clearly, Utopia was about to face the greatest crisis in its history, and Hippocrates believed that this city-state might not survive this disaster.

Therefore, he had the young people of the academy leave, at least to preserve their lives.

“What about you?”

Shuangxin asked, having been appointed as the leader to flee Utopia by Hippocrates himself, after discovering the Promised Land.

“I still have things to do.”

Hippocrates answered.

“But, without the guidance of the Saint, we could easily lose our way.”

Shuangxin said uneasily. The Saint was not just a symbol of martial prowess but also an elder and leader. These Transcendents, who lived much longer than common people, possessed extensive knowledge and foresight, offering guidance and advice.

As Shuangxin said, their lives were short, if the Saint were lost, they would likely lose their way and fall into confusion, as if the guide who had always led them had disappeared.

“Don’t worry.”

Hippocrates said.

“You just need to keep moving forward, no matter what, life will always find a way out.”

He looked toward the impending torrential rain.