MC Creative Mode: Wholesale Perpetual Motion Machine

Chapter 301 Emerging Aggregate Distortion Points
boom!
The already shattered carriages were twisted and deformed by the massive impact, kneaded like dough.

Two incredibly fast figures, almost too fast for Zhang Kun to see, bounced back and forth in the carriage like balls.

In just a few seconds, the already damaged carriage was blown to pieces.

Suddenly, a spray of scalding blood splattered onto Zhang Kun's face, snapping him out of his daze of immense fear. "So much blood! He's not going to make it? My father isn't going to make it!"

The increasingly strong smell of blood and the aura of waning life convinced him that this man, who might be his father, was fighting with his life on the line.

"We must help him immediately!" Zhang Kun tried to calm his tense emotions and was about to loudly chant an incantation to join the battle.

“Frozen… soul… borrow… cross…” But the more anxious he became, the more he stammered.

The incantation that he usually recited every day, which was almost ingrained in his bones and that he could even recite in his sleep, was now completely forgotten.

"Do you want to help your father?" A voice that spoke very quickly but was unusually calm rang out from the side.

Zhang Kun turned his head and saw that the guy he had just met was squatting leisurely next to him, without any fear on his face.

He immediately shouted, "You...wait, why aren't you running yet?"

His face was filled with anxiety: "Run! The blood zombies eat people. If we don't run now, everyone in the train station will probably be killed!"

"Then why don't you run?" Fang Zheng glanced at him.

“I…” Zhang Kun’s eyes hardened as he stared at the two blurry figures who had smashed the train carriage and were fiercely fighting in the open space next to the train station. He gritted his teeth and said, “All these years of training haven’t been for nothing! When you encounter the most despicable beast, you have to kill it!”

Despite the lingering fear, years of practice have finally paid off.

My blank mind recovered quickly, and all the skills I had practiced since I was five years old flashed through my mind.

In a theatrical tone, he rapidly chanted an incantation: "Your soul cannot be frozen to death! Your spirit cannot be broken! Come! Come! Come... lend me this body of flesh as a raft—to ferry you out of the mountains..."

Within seconds, with a muffled groan, dense black hair burst forth from Zhang Kun's body.

Amidst the piercing barks of the dogs, he crouched low, his beastly fighting instincts driving him forward. He transformed into a black lightning bolt, charging towards the battlefield of fierce combat.

Fang Zheng sat there with his head tilted to the side, watching the father and son who might have met across time and space, like two fierce dogs, one big and one small, working together seamlessly to fight against the blood corpse.

But amidst the agonizing cries, the viscous, foul blood flowing from the blood corpse acted as both the strongest shield and the deadliest weapon, blocking all the father and son's attacks. Even when their defenses were breached, the swollen, rotting corpse shrouded in foul blood remained unharmed, whether its bones were broken or its flesh torn apart.

Once covered in filthy blood again, it can quickly recover.

The physical strain of the shamanistic rituals had taken a toll on the father and son, making them feel like they were about to start an 800-meter sprint without any warm-up, quickly pushing them to their physical limits.

Moreover, Zhang Biao, who was critically injured and on the verge of death, was still losing strength and speed even as he struggled to hold on.

They were on the verge of being completely outmatched. If Zhang Kun were a little stronger, and if Zhang Biao hadn't been seriously injured, they might have been able to defeat this evil spirit if they had worked together.

But they were just one step too short, and that one difference cost them the chance of victory.

If this continues, in less than half a minute, or even ten seconds, the father and son will be utterly defeated and devoured by this evil spirit.

The others at the train station will likely also perish. Fang Zheng might also be attacked and "die," though he himself won't be harmed. At most, the projection will malfunction, temporarily losing its ability to interfere with this place.

In this extremely bizarre and blurred world, every living being seems to see the world differently. If Fang Zheng wants to intervene in their affairs, he can only do so through the medium of their own worldview.

This situation is similar to the witch's barrier, an intermediate product in the process of the incubator civilization's analysis of unsolvable sets. Both possess unique rules, and external entities can only be forced to obey these rules. However, there are still significant differences between the two.

Within the witch's barrier, the technology of the incubator civilization can be used to construct the "magic" of magical girls based on the differences between different groups, thereby resisting the different rules of the barrier.

In this world, similar differences have already been discovered, but for the time being, it is impossible to construct "magic" through similar methods, to use differences to offset rules, and to forcibly tamper with those subjective worldviews.

In front of the cat-faced old woman, Fang Zheng was just an ordinary teenager. Even if he used the enhanced flashlight beam to create a lightsaber that could vaporize steel, he could only cause minor damage to her.

When faced with the weasel-like mummy, Fang Zheng could only intervene by changing his own form and aligning his worldview with it.

However, after the intervention, the scene observed from both the inherited and original perspectives of the weasel did not change much compared to before the intervention.

It seems that in this extremely subjective world, the relatively objective world is nothing more than a partial patchwork of numerous subjective worlds emerging together.

It is almost like a system of rules that emerges at a more complex level, on a macro-entity constructed by countless different worldviews, which is not more complex than a single worldview.

Like a surging sand wave, no matter how varied the shapes of each grain of sand are, or how many grains change in form, as long as there is no radical transformation of the whole, the whole formed by them, the whole formed by the partial emergence of countless grains of sand, is still no different from the original sand wave.

It may seem complicated at first glance, but it's actually quite simple—removing one or two grains of sand from a beach won't cause any changes, and removing one or two water molecules from water won't have any impact either.

Fang Zheng roughly understood what the cat-faced old woman, the dog spirit, the train shadow, and the blood corpse in front of him were.

"Could it be a collection of twisted points formed by the intersection of numerous different worldviews?"

Fang Zheng looked at his hand. The light between his fingers was slightly distorted by the spatial distortion, but not by much, as if a layer of steam was slightly distorting the light. "Hmm, the distortion isn't big enough, and the control isn't very good either. It's indeed a bit troublesome..."

From Fang Zheng's perspective, he created an infinite universe in his palm by inputting infinite energy into his hand, based on the explosive expansion of space.

But no matter how great the spacetime distortion is, what Zhang Kun and Zhang Biao can observe is only this spacetime distortion that is almost imperceptible without careful observation.

"How about using a prop?" Fang Zheng reached into his pocket and grasped the hilt of the sword, but couldn't pull it out at all. Or rather, he could pull it out, but only he could see it; to Zhang Kun and Zhang Biao, it was no different from air.

He pondered, "Zhang Kun's niece can eat my honey milk candy and recover her strength through it. This is probably because children's vague worldviews do not have the concept of 'impossible,' so her personal worldview does not hinder my power."

"I can demonstrate different levels of power in the observations of different people, and the magnitude of the power is based on their perception."

“However, such understanding probably has its limits…” Fang Zheng glanced at Zhang Biao, who was vomiting blood, and the blood corpse that was using filthy blood to form tentacles and devouring the blood spurting out by the father and son.

“Zhang Biao and the Blood Corpse have no knowledge of me at all. The range of power I am currently displaying is limited by Zhang Kun’s knowledge, but it is also highly likely to be constrained by the knowledge of Zhang Biao, the Blood Corpse, and others in the train station.”

The movement of a single water molecule is disordered, but in a vacuum without any external interference, it can spontaneously move perpetually in a certain direction.

However, when water molecules aggregate to three or more, they exhibit collective characteristics and become part of a group.

At this point, intermolecular forces form hydrogen bonds, and without further external interference, the water molecules as a whole remain stable. Numerous tiny possibilities of molecules disturb each other, creating a chaotic yet still generally unified state.

At this moment, Fang Zheng is like a water molecule, his inherent power is shrouded and bound by a huge network, unable to be released.

Zhang Kun's trust allowed Fang Zheng, like a water molecule, to gain a little liberation, but because of the pull of other water molecules, he was still unable to unleash his full power.

Suddenly, a mournful bark rang out.

Perhaps due to excessive blood loss, Zhang Biao's movements slowed down for a moment, resulting in him being brutally knocked to the ground by the blood corpse.

The black fur covering the wound quickly disappeared, and the person turned pale, clearly on the verge of death.

Zhang Kun, who was fighting evil spirits for the first time in his life, could not hold on after his father fell down and was knocked to the ground in less than three seconds.

The father and son lay on the ground covered in blood, while the blood corpse, like a beast enjoying its prey, walked over with sticky steps. The foul blood in its abdomen slowly opened, about to drag Zhang Kun and his son into its rotting belly and corrode them into part of the foul blood!

"Never mind..." Seeing this, Fang Zheng shook his head, got up and walked towards the coffin next to him, "Let's deal with this thing of yours first."

As he spoke, the space in Fang Zheng's palm slightly distorted and extended towards the floor of the carriage.

The coffin lid that once sealed the blood corpse, but which has now been shattered by it, and the broken chains on the ground covered with runes, began to be torn apart with many smooth cracks under the distortion of space, and then reassembled as if cold-welded in a vacuum.

Referring to the runes of unknown meaning on the coffin and chains, as well as the runes on the thick chain of the adult Zhang Biao, a thick spear, with a massive number of runes pieced together from the twisted structure inside and out, was condensed into existence.

With one hand, he lifted the spear and hoisted it onto his shoulder. Fang Zheng slowly walked in front of Zhang Kun and Zhang Biao, blocking their path as they were about to feast on the blood-soaked corpse.

"Hey, Zhang Kun, when you said you found the human traffickers, didn't you say you thought I must be capable, so you wanted to invite me to join you...?"

A strange, indistinct voice, as if one were lying in deep water while someone else was speaking from the surface, reached one's ears.

Severely wounded and lying on the ground, Zhang Kun vaguely heard Fang Zheng's words. He struggled to open his eyes, and in his blood-stained eyes, he saw a small figure carrying a huge spear.

"Now, I'll show you what I'm capable of!"

(Perhaps... Fang Zheng can deal with this damned beast?) A glimmer of hope, like the last straw, rose in Zhang Kun's already despairing heart.

"Very good!" Fang Zheng nodded slightly, feeling the huge spear on his shoulder, which was originally extremely heavy, suddenly become much lighter.

With his spear pointed at the blood-soaked corpse ahead, Fang Zheng smiled and said, "Although my understanding is slightly limited, this amount of power is enough to finish you off."

"Roar!" The blood corpse seemed to sense the provocation. With a furious roar, numerous bloody tentacles plunged into the ground for leverage, transforming into a blur as it pounced straight at the small figure in front of it, determined to tear it to shreds!
At the same time, the boy gripped the spear tightly with both hands, his body suddenly spun around, and all his strength burst forth from his waist and abdomen, the spear sweeping out like a whip.

The body's rapid tremors release the power of every joint and every muscle layer by layer.

Even though it didn't reach the level of a cellular concerto due to cognitive limitations, it still unleashed an extremely terrifying power.

boom!
The gun twisted and tore through the air in an instant, emitting a deafening explosion, and a visible sonic boom ripple spread out instantly.

The spear tip struck the blood corpse's neck precisely. The thick, foul blood that kept flowing seemed to offer no defense whatsoever. In that instant, it twisted violently like viscous jelly, and with a crisp, bubble-like sound, the monster's head flew off.

Blackish-red blood and rotting flesh splattered like a fountain. The corpse, now headless, continued to struggle, its limbs and torso still being propelled forward by the gushing, flowing, foul blood. The true form of the blood corpse seemed not to be the swollen, decaying carcass encased within, but rather the foul blood itself!

But it was still no use. The moment the spearhead struck him, it trembled continuously, creating a series of spear flowers that precisely separated his limbs and torso. A clump of filthy blood trembled and splattered evenly on the ground. After twitching a few times, it temporarily stopped moving.

The boy stood with his gun sheathed, the tip still trembling slightly and emitting a buzzing sound.

The air was still filled with the stench of rotting blood and the ozone fumes from the sonic boom.

(End of this chapter)