My mom is waiting for treatment, and you're summoning me to be a hero?

The law of slaughter was like a swarm of dark golden ants that burrowed into Gao Yang's bones, gnawing at every inch of his flesh until it was burning.

He can still stand now, no longer relying on the dignity of any deity, but on his last breath.

That obsession that had been stuck in his throat for three thousand years, and that he refused to let go of until his death.

He engaged Lin Mo in close combat, his marksmanship still as exquisite as ever, chilling to the bone.

The golden spear sometimes flicked like a viper's tongue, and sometimes rained down like a shower of stars, each strike landing at the angle that Lin Mo found hardest to defend against.

But every time the gun and sword clashed, a very faint cracking sound would come from inside his body.

The sound was audible only to him, like a crack being broken in the ice, or like strings snapping deep inside his eardrum.

Those were his laws, and under the erosion of the Law of Slaughter, these hundreds of laws shattered one after another.

He had possessed as many laws as he had, and now he only had so many chances left to fight Lin Mo.

He was playing very fast, but his pace slowed down more and more.

Lin Mo also noticed.

Although Gao Yang's spear tip was still sharp, its power was waning, like a setting sun in its final moments, the light still bright, but the heat was slowly fading away.

Yin Xue stood beside the God of Time, no longer speaking.

She watched the battle, her red lips pressed tightly together, her eyes revealing a complexity she herself was unwilling to acknowledge.

The Time God also dropped his frivolous old manner, and his eyes gradually became serious.

They all knew that the one standing there fighting Lin Mo was no longer the Supreme God in his prime.

He was a man whose entire being had been gradually drained by his own three thousand years of madness.

Finally, Gao Yang's spear slowed down.

Gao Yang staggered backward a few steps, his legs gave way, and he fell heavily into the cracks in the white ground.

He could no longer hold the gun; the broken piece rolled out from between his fingers with a crisp clang.

He lay on his back, his chest heaving violently, and he was breathing heavily, like a bellows.

Lin Mo walked up to him, still gripping the black sword tightly, its tip pointing towards Gao Yang's throat.

His face showed neither the joy of a victor nor the ferocity of a vengeful one, only a deep weariness.

"It seems I've lost."

Gao Yang chuckled softly.

His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, yet it still carried that familiar calmness.

Lin Mo did not answer.

He didn't want to answer.

Gao Yang shakily raised his right hand and beckoned to Lin Mo, as if he were about to give some last words.

He opened his mouth, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

"When you get home, I..."

Suddenly, a burst of sword light erupted.

A golden light burst forth from Gao Yang's sleeve, as fast as lightning suppressed to its extreme, piercing straight for Lin Mo's throat.

That was the last scheme of a dying man, hidden in the softest words, hidden behind the word "go home".

Golden light pierced through Lin Mo's head, and then Lin Mo's figure swayed gently, like a reflection on the water being blown away by the wind.

Clone.

Gao Yang froze for a moment, his raised hand hanging in mid-air, the last glimmer of light in his eyes slowly dimming like a blown-out wick.

"A clone...what a pity."

He murmured, his tone even carrying a hint of regret for his earlier attack.

"You're a madman who's been obsessed for three thousand years. Even if you're about to die, you won't give up any opportunity."

Lin Mo's voice came from behind him, as calm as if stating a fact.

"You've probably encountered this situation more than once."

Gao Yang closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, looking at the white sky now riddled with cracks. He seemed to smile, yet also sighed: "Yes, more than once."

Then he closed his eyes.

This time, he didn't open his eyes again.

At the same time, the white space began to collapse.

The cracks first broke apart from the bottom of Gao Yang's body, and then the cracks seemed to come alive and grew wildly in all directions. Light poured in from the cracks, not a dazzling white, but a kind of almost transparent gray.

The entire deconstructed space emitted a tremendous wail, like a colossal beast that had reached its end, disintegrating.

Yin Xue immediately flew to Lin Mo's shoulder.

Lin Mo stood still, his black sword sheathed, watching Gao Yang's body being swallowed up little by little by the collapsing white light. He remained expressionless, only uttering a very soft sentence.

"it's over."

……

Beyond the crack, on a floating island in the soil layer, the big-headed turtle was huddled behind a piece of gray rock, looking up at the black rift that separated heaven and earth.

Its black bean eyes never blinked, as if trying to see through the void that had stopped spreading.

After a long while, it shook its head, its voice soft and slow, carrying a sigh that was hard to tell whether it was regret or resignation.

"I remember that guy's name was Lin Mo, right? It's really not easy for him to push Gao Yang to this point."

It slowly shrank its head half an inch into its shell, and then added another sentence.

"But he's not the person predicted, so he can't win."

After saying that, it turned its heavy body and crawled away into the distance.

Beneath the rift, the advance team and the remnants of the divine realm had already retreated to the edge of the teleportation point.

He Yuan stood on the ground, his torn shoes filled with mud and sand, and was counting heads in a hoarse voice.

Bai Rong knelt on the ground, one hand pressing on his wound, the other still holding the dulled blade of his knife.

Long Feiyu and Xilar supported each other, the holy light had long since dimmed, leaving only a warm afterglow.

Su Lin leaned against a broken pillar, looking up at the sky, even her breathing was very soft.

Laihu slumped there, with the flying beast lying at his feet, its chest and abdomen bearing several deep, bone-revealing lacerations.

Everyone was exhausted, like driftwood pulled from the same turbulent current.

Suddenly, the earth stopped trembling.

The overwhelming black void seemed to be sealed off from within by something, stopping less than a hundred paces away from them, and no longer spreading.

It was like a giant beast that had pounced on you, suddenly closing its mouth.

There was no warning, no loud noise, only deathly silence.

Then, the blackness began to crumble into powder from the edges, and gray-black specks of light fell like a black snowstorm sweeping back from the ends of the earth.

"Stop...stop!"

Someone shouted first, their voice trembling.

Then came a great deal of panting and sobbing.

Several soldiers' knees buckled, and they knelt directly in the ashes.

The angels and demigods stopped fleeing; some collapsed to the ground, while others huddled back to back, as if they had just experienced a nightmare.

Long Feiyu and Xilar exchanged a glance, neither of them speaking, but they gripped each other's hands tighter.

He Yuan pushed up his broken glasses and found that the lenses were long gone. He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Instead, he said in a low voice, "What are you all standing there for... Let's find His Majesty first."

Just then, a figure slowly emerged from the depths of the gray-black snow curtain.

He walked out step by step from the center of the half-collapsed crack.

His black robe was tattered beyond recognition, the hem torn into strips of cloth, and his body was covered with wounds inflicted by the turbulent flow of time.

The black sword was still at his waist, its scabbard riddled with cracks, yet still gleaming with a dark golden light.

He walked slowly, but each step was steady, like a soul returning from the ruins of time.