I Am Your Natural Enemy

In the midst of utter darkness, only ghostly flames emitted a faint glow, lighting up the road through the shadows.

A mass of rolling black light fell from the sky, crashing heavily onto the road, tumbling ceaselessly in the darkness.

Around the black light, from time to time, appeared one ghost after another, faces numb, eyes hollow and lifeless, all drifting aimlessly along this road.

As time passed, the light of the darkness withdrew, turning into a lump of scorched black flesh, rolling forward along the road.

Gradually, that lump of black flesh began to take form, becoming the figure of a foreigner—deathly pale face, sunken eye sockets, hardly a hair left on his head.

He looked at everything around him, then turned back to glance into the dark sky, a trace of terror still lingering in his eyes.

At last, after so much effort, he had locked onto the coordinates and managed his descent.

Yet midway he'd run into something inexplicable: no pain, a force that ignored his power and defenses, and gouged out even his core essence directly.

If he hadn't responded quickly, if he hadn't abandoned that body and the power within it to escape, who knows what would have happened next.

He didn't know what hellish place this was, filled with so many unconscious ghosts.

But it didn't matter; he could still sense the direction of the coordinates.

This was the world where even little demons could feel pain and absorb the power of pain.

Once he descended, that lost power would soon return to him.

Following his senses, he pressed forward through the darkness, and while walking, spotted a fork in this endless road of shadow.

And the coordinates he sensed, lay just along this narrow path.

He followed the path, which gradually transformed into a staircase within the darkness; climbing for who knew how long, until he finally saw the light, stepped forward, and appeared inside a small house.

He walked up the house's staircase, pushed open the door, and saw rows upon rows of identical houses outside.

Standing at the door, he took a deep breath—the lingering yin qi in the air made him feel utterly at ease, and the faint power of pain brought him an exquisite pleasure.

He spread his arms, embracing this new world, absorbing every remnant of pain lingering here.

His battered, feeble new body was rapidly restored; new hair sprouted on his bare skull, his previously hunched back now standing tall once more.

His eyes, once completely black, began to shift—black and white sharply distinct, irises gradually turning into a strange, bright yellow.

Naked, he strode toward the direction of the city; there, he sensed, was where pain's power was most concentrated.

Passing a shop on his way, he casually picked up and donned a well-fitted suit.

...

"He's here."

Cai Qidong watched the images broadcast from the high-altitude drone.

Unexpectedly, the Pain Demon Lord had actually walked out from Old Zhao's villa.

And when he emerged, he was clearly fragile and weak, looking on the verge of collapse, yet once outside, his condition visibly recovered with the naked eye—his steps grew faster and faster, his power swelling by the moment.

No one doubted that this guy was the Pain Demon Lord.

Once the countdown ended, Virtue City's only person outdoors—still looking like a foreigner—could only be the Pain Demon Lord.

Satellite, drones, all manner of remote equipment, including every camera in Virtue City, along with some special devices from the Scorching Sun Department, all hunted for the Pain Demon Lord.

Immediately, all kinds of assessments began—from basic physical data to energy readings, even tracking what occult talismans along the roads might be affected; countless data fed together as one.

Cai Qidong watched the data displayed on another screen.

This Pain Demon Lord matched previous patterns—as he descended, he seemed to be severely weakened, enormously so.

Yet after emerging in the city, every reading surged rapidly; once it hit a certain level, though, the rise plummeted abruptly.

As guessed before, even evacuating everyone in the city left enough power behind to be absorbed by him.

Yet for his recovery to stall this quickly implied that, at present, his power's range could not exceed one hundred miles in diameter.

No hurry to strike; instead, they continued analyzing collected data with every device at hand.

Meanwhile, the Pain Demon Lord walked the city streets, inhaling every lingering pain he found, spinning in bizarre dances, humming an incomprehensible hometown tune.

He gazed at the street signs still lit, breathing in gently—there was not a soul around.

He could sense that, not long ago, so many people had been here—so many it made him tremble with excitement.

He didn't care why so many people had suddenly disappeared.

Those little demons once summoned had told him that this world had more people than any other; at every moment, someone somewhere was suffering, every instant bursting with the power of pain and endless howls.

No need to rush—he'd take his time.

He cast his gaze aside at the streetlamp, where an occult talisman was stuck.

The moment he touched it, the talisman crumbled into ash.