Myth Beyond Heaven

Chapter 2978: Death Incarnate (2)

“I AM DEATH INCARNATE!”

Mo Ling’s voice was no longer his own—it was layered with the screams of countless souls, the echoes of worlds he had erased. The Abyssal Ghost Knight was gone.

In his place stood Mo Ling at his absolute peak, a Primordial God who had transcended even his own limits.

He burned his life essence. His God Marks ignited one after another, each flare of power pushing him further beyond reason. The void around them warped, unable to contain the sheer force of his fury.

Yun Lintian watched, unshaken.

Mo Ling’s body blurred—faster than thought, faster than time itself. His scythe carved through existence, aiming not just for Yun Lintian’s flesh, but for his very soul.

“DIE!”

The strike landed.

—And Yun Lintian caught it with his bare hand.

Crack!

The sound of Mo Ling’s scythe shattering echoed like the death knell of a star.

Mo Ling’s eyes widened.

Yun Lintian’s grip tightened.

And then—

Boom!

A single punch.

Mo Ling’s body folded around Yun Lintian’s fist, his ribs caving in, his spine snapping. Blood—black and thick with death energy—erupted from his mouth as he was sent hurtling through the void.

He crashed through layers of broken reality, his form flickering between existence and oblivion.

But he refused to fall.

“NO!”

With a final, desperate roar, Mo Ling gathered every last shred of his power. His body burned like a dying star, his God Marks turning to ash as he poured everything into one last attack.

The scythe reformed in his hands—this time, not just a weapon, but a concept given form. The embodiment of “The End.”

He swung.

The blade did not cut through space.

It cut through everything.

The past, the present, the future—all possibilities, all realities—were severed in that single strike.

This was not an attack meant to kill Yun Lintian.

This was an attack meant to erase the world itself.

Yun Lintian’s eyes finally flickered with something—not fear, but recognition.

Mo Ling was not trying to win.

He was trying to ensure no one could.

The blade descended.

And Yun Lintian moved.

For the first time in the battle, he unleashed his full speed.

The Heaven Sunderer met the death scythe at the exact moment of impact.

Clang!

The sound was not a clash—it was a silence.

A silence so absolute it swallowed all noise, all light, all existence.

For a single, frozen moment, nothing remained.

And then—

Boom!!!!!!!!

The backlash exploded outward.

Mo Ling was blasted into countless pieces.

A while later, the explosion of power faded, leaving behind a shattered void. The remnants of Mo Ling’s final strike lingered like dying embers, his body broken, his aura flickering like a candle in the wind.

He lay sprawled on the fractured ground, his skeletal armor reduced to dust, his flesh torn and bleeding black. His hollow eyes, once filled with arrogance, now stared at the sky with a mix of emotions—rage, sorrow, regret, shame… and a strange, unsettling relief.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of footsteps echoed.

Yun Lintian approached, the Heaven Sunderer Greatsword dragging behind him, its tip carving a deep fissure in the earth with every step. The weight of his presence crushed the air itself, each footfall like a hammer striking Mo Ling’s pride.

He stopped before the dying God of Death, towering over him. Without a word, he raised the greatsword and pointed it at Mo Ling’s forehead.

“Speak.”

A single word, cold and unyielding.

Mo Ling coughed, black blood trickling from his lips. His laughter was weak, but it carried a mocking edge.

“Hah… So the mighty Yun Lintian… still needs answers from me?”

Yun Lintian’s gaze remained impassive. “You have no soul. I cannot search your mind. So you will tell me—what was your plan with Nian Shi?”

Mo Ling’s lips curled into a bloody smirk. “Oh? And what makes you think… I’ll tell you anything?”

His breathing was ragged, but his voice dripped with contempt. “You can’t torture me. I am Death itself. Pain means nothing. Fear means nothing. You have no leverage.”

Yun Lintian said nothing.

Mo Ling chuckled, the sound wet and broken. “Yun Lintian… oh, Yun Lintian… As expected of the Seed of Fate.” His eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “But don’t think… just because you’ve reached this level… that you can change anything.”

A pause. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper, laced with cold satisfaction.

“No matter what you do… you will die.”

“What?!”

Long Qingxuan’s sharp voice cut through the tension. She stepped forward, her draconic eyes burning with fury. “What do you mean by that?!”

Mo Ling turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering toward her. Then, he laughed—a weak, wheezing sound.

“Ah… Dragon Princess. Still so protective?” His smirk widened as he looked back at Yun Lintian. “You should spend more time with her… She’s the only wife you have left now.”

Silence.

The words struck like a blade.

Yun Lintian’s expression darkened. Long Qingxuan’s breath hitched. Linlin’s claws unsheathed instinctively. Yue Zhihe’s hands trembled.

They all understood the implication.

Mo Ling wasn’t just taunting them.

He was telling them that the others—Yun Qianxue, Lin Xinyao, and his other wives—were already dead.

“What do you mean?!” Yun Lintian’s grip on the Heaven Sunderer tightened. The blade hummed, resonating with his surging killing intent.

Mo Ling saw the flicker in Yun Lintian’s eyes—the first crack in his composure. And he laughed.

A wet, gurgling laugh, blood bubbling from his lips, but it was the laugh of a victor.

“HAHAHA!… Look at you,” Mo Ling wheezed, his skeletal fingers twitching against the broken earth. “The great Yun Lintian, finally losing control.”

Yun Lintian’s aura, usually a perfectly balanced storm of Creation and Destruction, now churned violently. The ground beneath him cracked, space itself warping under his unstable energy.

Mo Ling grinned wider. “While you were busy playing hero here… someone else was taking care of your family.”

A pause. Then—

“Your wives. Your disciples. Your precious daughter—all gone.”

BOOM!

Yun Lintian’s foot lashed out, kicking Mo Ling across the wasteland. The God of Death’s broken body tumbled like a ragdoll, bones snapping, but his laughter never stopped.

“Ahahaha—!” Mo Ling spat black blood as he skidded to a stop. “Hit me all you want. It won’t bring them back.”

Yun Lintian appeared before him in a flash, the Heaven Sunderer pressing against Mo Ling’s throat. “You’re lying.”

Mo Ling’s hollow eyes gleamed. “Then try summoning the Gate of Beyond Heaven to check it.”

A beat of silence.

Mo Ling’s grin turned savage. “You can’t, can you?”