Chapter 431 - 329: Blood Sacrifice, Superpower

Pitch-black darkness surrounded him.

No sound, no temperature, no boundaries.

There was only a sinking, falling sensation, endless and infinite.

Like a stone cast into the deepest ocean trench, pulled by an unseen gravity, falling, falling...

Then... pain.

The tearing agony of a Soul being ripped apart.

It was as if someone were using a dull knife, slowly and patiently, to peel his consciousness from a firm Anchor Point.

Every pull brought a sharp ringing that echoed in the Abyss of his consciousness.

Ian’s consciousness forcibly gathered itself. Amidst the inertia of sinking, he struggled to bring forth a sliver of clear light.

He found himself falling, passing through layer after layer of viscous darkness.

Far below, there was a pinprick of light.

It was faint, like the last oil lamp at dusk.

The point of light grew larger, brighter, drawing ever closer.

Then... he crashed into it.

BOOM...

Countless fragments surged forth like a tidal wave, instantly overwhelming his consciousness.

A woman’s face, covered in wrinkles, her skin as rough as cracked tree bark.

Her hands were covered in small, split cuts, some seeping blood. The three a.m. light illuminated her weary back.

She was kneading dough, putting all her strength into every motion.

The scene shifted to a man’s face, his teeth clenched, veins bulging on his forehead.

He braced his lower back, trying to move a box on a truck. The box was bigger and heavier than he was.

His back was trembling, but he gritted his teeth and made no sound.

In a dim bedroom, a young, dejected face stared down at an empty pant leg from a wheelchair.

A blanket covered his legs, hiding the missing part.

He just sat there, motionless for a long time, like a frozen statue.

The scene shifted again. A sharp woman’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, pierced his consciousness.

"What’s the use of putting a kid through college if he can’t even find a job!"

Then came more clamorous noises, mixed with sighs, coughs, and the smell of cheap tobacco...

Finally, there were the words deeply carved into the back of a photograph.

The handwriting was crooked and clumsy, pressed so hard it almost tore through the photo paper.

"Make us proud."

The fragments of memory piled up and compressed here, turning into something heavy.

It pressed down on his chest, so heavy he couldn’t breathe.

Finally... a desperate roar exploded from the depths of his Soul!

Unwillingness! Fear! Anger...

"Someone save me... I can’t die..."

"My whole family’s hopes are on me. They’re still waiting for me... My brother is still waiting for me..."

"I can’t let them down... I can’t..."

The voice grew fainter and fainter, like a candle in the wind, flickering a few times as it struggled.

That ball of orange-yellow light... finally shattered.

The fragments scattered, melting into the surrounding darkness and vanishing.

Only a faint wisp of warmth remained, clinging to Ian’s consciousness like a puff of white breath in winter, barely there at all.

’Is this... your final wish?’

The other person had paid the price of their Soul’s complete dissipation, burning themselves up in exchange for one unpredictable arrival.

And these memories... these images... this bone-deep unwillingness and expectation...

Now, they all belonged to Ian.

Deep within his consciousness, a dormant panel flickered faintly.

Lines of text appeared at the corner of his eye.

[Projection Fusion Complete]

[Current Projection: Wei Song (Original consciousness has dissipated)]

[Special Status: Carrying a wisp of Level Three Spiritual Power Origin]

[Warning: The Rules of this world are vastly different from the Wizard World. The Witchcraft System is suppressed. Re-adaptation is required.]

Ian... no, he was Wei Song now, and he had no time to dwell on any of this.

He could clearly "feel" his Soul being pulled outward by something.

That Power was cold and viscous, carrying a blasphemous undertone.

It was like countless tiny hooks had latched onto the edge of his consciousness, dragging it out bit by bit.

’I have to do something, or else...’

This body he had just arrived in would soon become an empty shell.

Wei Song opened his eyes, his vision gradually sharpening from a blur.

His surroundings were dim. Before him was a rough stone wall, its surface damp with condensed water droplets.

A thick, musty smell hung in the air, mixed with... a cloying, sweet scent like rust.

He lowered his head slightly and found himself tied to a rough stone pillar.

Coarse hemp ropes were cinched around his wrists. They had already chafed the skin raw and drawn blood, stinging painfully.

He was wearing a faded gray T-shirt, a pair of wrinkled jeans, and cheap sneakers on his feet.

’This situation... is really bad!’

He suppressed his roiling emotions and shifted his eyes, using his peripheral vision to scan his surroundings.

It was an underground space, roughly the size of half a basketball court.

A few torches were stuck into the stone walls, their orange-red flames dancing and casting flickering shadows.

In the flickering light, there were more people.

Men and women, about thirty of them, were tied to stone pillars just like him.

Some were crying softly, their shoulders hitching. Others were frightened senseless, their eyes vacant as their bodies trembled uncontrollably.

A few of the older ones had their eyes rolled back, their lips were purple, and their breathing was faint.

Ahead, about ten paces away, was a stone platform.

The platform was about a meter high, its surface covered in dark red patterns.

The patterns were fine and dense, like blood vessels, spreading across the entire surface.

Dark red, viscous blood flowed within the patterns, moving slowly along a set path and converging toward the center of the platform.

There, a fist-sized, dark red Crystal Core was suspended in the air.

The Crystal Core’s surface was covered in cracks, and a dark red light swirled within, like a slowly beating heart.

Behind the stone platform stood nine people.

They were all dressed in identical black Long Robes of a coarse fabric, with hoods that concealed most of their faces.