I Am Your Natural Enemy

As long as there is a soul, there's simply no way to withstand the Soul Devouring Beast.

He was actually still a bit regretful; he didn't really want to kill Wen Yan.

Of course, this wasn't out of any kindness; it was purely because, in his eyes, Wen Yan's value was much higher than that of Zhuge Wanjun.

Wen Yan was truly irreplaceable; only Wen Yan could enter the Old Ice Warehouse.

And inside there, there were far too many things he desired.

After Wen Yan's death, perhaps for a very, very long time, no one would be able to enter the Old Ice Warehouse of Virtue City Funeral House again.

Before last year, there was someone surnamed Wang.

The task of entering the Old Ice Warehouse had always been carried out by Old Wang; he had wanted to use Old Wang's hand to do something.

Unfortunately, more than a year ago, before he could finish planning, someone else struck first.

Old Wang disappeared completely—no trace of life nor corpse was ever found.

He investigated in many ways, tried several methods, and basically confirmed that Old Wang was no longer in this world.

He regretted this for a long time; if Old Wang were still around, he was confident that with his methods, getting Old Wang to bring out one or two items from the Old Ice Warehouse wouldn't have been much trouble.

If it weren't for that, he wouldn't have needed to call someone 'father' for several months, serve tea and pour water, cook and wash dishes, wash feet and wipe bodies, throwing himself wholeheartedly into it, and only succeeding once in the end.

Fake Mo Zhicheng landed on the ground, stared at that Black Armor Corpse in the distance, and glanced again at Qin Kun, sneering.

"Stop struggling. The Scorching Sun Department is nothing special; apart from fooling the world, you have no other abilities.

If I can't borrow the power of Tuoba Martial God, there's only one possibility.

Tuoba Martial God never existed in the first place.

I wonder what methods you people in the Scorching Sun Department used to fabricate such a powerful martial artist.

Back then, that terrifying Yang Energy, as dreadful as the midnight sun—what modern trick did you Scorching Sun Department use to fake it?

So, who was that person standing there at the time?"

Fake Mo Zhicheng was still somewhat curious about this, since he had been very close at the time.

To be honest, he had truly been shocked then; that person took step after step, walking out like a god descending. He would never forget that sight for the rest of his life.

Even the Three Mountains and Five Ridges, the many Taoist Sects, all acknowledged that Tuoba Martial God had long since surpassed everyone on the Martial Path, and had forged a new world of his own.

He himself was in a league of his own; all the other martial artists, in another league.

But now, having become a True Architect, he found himself utterly incapable of temporarily possessing that kind of power. He was genuinely shocked.

Qin Kun sneered.

"A frog in a well, what the hell could you know.

You're just too weak, that's all.

I once had the honor of meeting Tuoba Martial God, even fought him once.

Only losers like you would think that if you can't do something, then it doesn't exist."

"I see, so, that time, it wasn't Tuoba Martial God after all?"

"That really was Tuoba Martial God, it's just you who isn't up to par."

While Fake Mo Zhicheng and Qin Kun conversed, neither noticed that Uncle's murderous aura was growing ever stronger, his power rising, and his speed becoming even faster.

The Soul Devouring Beast's tendrils could only hinder Uncle; only pure force could briefly impede him. All other arcane tricks were completely useless against someone like Uncle—a Big Executor without soul, consciousness, resentment, or killing intent.

If he had consciousness, if he had spiritual intelligence, Uncle would never recognize that Fake Mo Zhicheng was the son who had accompanied him for months.

Only a Big Executor's obsession—when it targeted a person, no matter how much the other changed, that person would be recognized at a glance.

When truly standing before Fake Mo Zhicheng, the Big Executor's obsession could finally unleash its full might.

Kill him, avenge, never stop even in death, eternal unrest.

If vengeance could not be taken, then the power simply was not enough; whatever was lacking, it would begin to increase.

If Uncle couldn't reach Fake Mo Zhicheng, then his speed just wasn't fast enough.

Then speed up a bit more, even faster.

His speed grew faster and faster, until even the Soul Devouring Beast's tendrils struggled to keep up.

While Fake Mo Zhicheng was still trying to get from Qin Kun why he couldn't manifest the power of Tuoba Martial God, Uncle's speed had become a streaking blur, brushing past the Soul Devouring Beast's tendrils, and appeared right in front of Fake Mo Zhicheng.

Claws brimming with vicious corpse poison, wrapped in a sharp tearing sound, swept past Fake Mo Zhicheng's front.

The speed was simply too fast—so fast that even the Soul Devouring Beast's tendrils couldn't react in time. They merely dragged Fake Mo Zhicheng aside slightly, just enough to spare his head from being torn off in one swipe.

Fake Mo Zhicheng clutched his throat as black blood spurted out, a wound almost severing half his neck appearing. That dreadful corpse poison also began spreading rapidly.

Yet in the next instant, the blood gushing a meter or two into the air seemed to freeze, suspended in midair.

Within all that bright red blood, the black corpse poison infected rapidly, but the speed of infection quickly slowed, then reversed.

The power of corpse poison was expelled from the blood; Fake Mo Zhicheng dropped his hand, and from the massive wound on his neck, the poison was quickly forced out.

The spurting blood, as if time were rewinding, flew straight back into his neck.

The horrific laceration on his neck, following the backward flow of blood, healed itself.

That recovery speed was even a bit faster than a Big Executor Corpse's recovery rate.