Chapter 1265 - 968: Tomorrow_2

Chapter 1265: Chapter 968: Tomorrow_2

Plant seeds of doubt, sprinkle the rain of lies, grow fruits of hesitation and unease, and finally reap the outcome of destruction... Is there anything more delightful than this?

"Don’t forget, Luo Su, you’re not the only one proficient in this."

Woodman said indifferently, "For someone like me, such ’toxicity’ knows no boundaries. You can’t kill me, I’m everywhere—I’ll find the best angle to enjoy your every move.

For instance... your most beloved student, how about that?"

He paused for a moment and glanced meaningfully into the distance at the Great Priestess upon the snowy field.

"From today onward, we shall be eternal companions... he himself, his beloved, the people around him, even his student? No one is flawless, Luo Su—as long as you find the precise breach, anyone can feel Hell’s call."

The Phantom from Hell raised his hand and pointed to his own head: "I eagerly await the moment such a soul falls into the abyss, to see what kind of brilliance it will emanate!"

"No, you won’t,"

Luo Su shook his head and sighed lightly.

As if watching a stubborn child persistently touching a live wire, worried and helplessly advising, "If I were you—I’d stay as far away from him as possible."

"Soon, you won’t want to appear in front of him anymore." He said, "Because he will leave an indelible psychological shadow on you.

He will make you harvest pain."

Luo Su sternly warned:

"—Unprecedented pain."

"I’ll wait and see,"

Woodman responded with mockery, his pupils brimming with sinister hues from Hell, laughing, "Our second game has begun, Luo Su."

"No."

Luo Su shook his head, leaned back in his chair with arms crossed, ready to watch the drama: "I think it’s already over."

At that moment, Woodman’s smile froze on his face.

And in the midst of the sweeping snowstorm.

In front of Hell’s gate—

A young man faced Woodman, revealing a smile.

So full of sunshine.

Tender enough to dispel this eternal frost and snowstorm.

In his outstretched right hand, like magic, appeared a strange crystal—as if a shard from a certain mirror, crystal clear, refracting a dazzling light.

Yet such brilliant light caused Woodman’s expression to twitch, unable to hide his shock and fear, his eyes instantly turning crimson, his expression fierce.

Engulfed by the long-forgotten cold.

Almost on the brink of a scream.

He wanted to withdraw his projection, but the meme already silently infiltrated into Huai Shi’s soul could not be extracted!

There was too much entanglement.

Too many memories.

As he looked at Huai Shi, Huai Shi was also looking at him.

After this toxicity in concept seeped deeply into Huai Shi’s bones, he existed, held tightly by Huai Shi’s Hand of Confinement, not allowing him to escape from here at this moment.

Like an enthusiastic host retaining a departing guest.

Reluctant to part.

During the festive season, you came... after all.

"Woodman, you must understand—I came here not for Lu BaiYan, but for you."

Huai Shi’s words were gentle, yet caused Woodman to tremble.

In Huai Shi’s hand, the Alchemy Fire rekindled, the crystal-clear shard rapidly condensed under refinement, and in the end, transformed into a delicate crystal bullet, loaded into the chamber of The Fly King’s gun.

The chamber closed with a crisp sound.

Huai Shi said: "Because I also have a gift for you."

"Its name is ’Retribution.’"

"Belonging to you, [Retribution]!"

With that, he solemnly raised the pistol, holding his right wrist with his left hand, closed one eye, like a beginner, aiming properly at the phantom that kept flashing.

Aiming at his face.

Pulled the trigger.

Thus, conveying this greeting from the deepest parts of Hell.

Telling him:

"—Mister Vitali sends his regards."

At that moment, the blaze flashed and vanished.

The loud noise tore through the silence on the snowy field, countless snowflakes flew up and fell in the roar, under the merciless night, before countless screens, innumerable stood up in astonishment to look, wide-eyed.

Behind Hell’s gate, Woodman, in a daze, tilted his head.

On that indistinguishable male or female face, at the center of his forehead, a large hole slowly appeared—the phantom, indeed, was struck by this bullet!

The delicate facial features twitched.

Crumbling, fine fragmented sounds arose.

The phantom suddenly flickered, convulsed, countless cracks emerged from Woodman’s body—then, what resonated, seemed to be a mournful wail spread throughout the world.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!"

In Hell, at the border, in Current Circumstances.

At that moment, almost in every corner of the world, countless ears were filled with that distant and desperate tragic scream.

Under the sun, in the moonlight, on the wasteland, in the city, before cattle and horses, on TV screens, more emerged in the eyes of people possessed by parasitic entities, suddenly stumbling revealed a figure writhing painfully.

Be it old or young, male or female.

In everyone’s eyes, they each have a different view, yet everyone can conclude, that it’s a black-haired, black-eyed Roman, and his expression... seemed filled with indescribable despair and pain!

And deep within the Nowhere, in a stone coffin covered with layers of matrices, a body connected to numerous cables also began to convulse violently.