Body command feeding world

The stench of blood in Yongye Commercial Street was gradually swallowed up by a bone-chilling cold.

The wind no longer carried the smell of gunpowder and decay; it became damp, cold, and sticky, like cold water left to stand for too long in a morgue. When it blew on the skin, the chill penetrated directly into the bones, lingering in the blood vessels and refusing to leave.

The surroundings were eerily quiet.

There were no howls of evil spirits, no sounds of claws scraping against the walls, no panting, no groans, not even the sound of dust settling on the ground.

All that remained was a deathly silence that could crush one's mind.

Wu Wei stood still, his black clothes spotless. The power that had been suppressed by the rules to the point of perfect three elements slowly subsided. His Yang Flame Blood Essence was contained deep within his meridians, leaving only a barely perceptible layer of warmth on the surface of his skin, resisting the ever-increasing chill around him.

The black elemental artifact in his palm had lost its green light, but it was still slightly warm.

It wasn't because of those evil spirits carrying primordial power, but rather because of a deeper, larger, and colder being that was slowly awakening.

Within his sea of ​​consciousness, Shu's voice was soft and calm:

"Ahead lies an entity formed from the fusion of countless human souls and malevolent energy. Its body is illusory, capable of controlling all low-level malevolent spirits in the region, and adept at soul-shattering attacks that can shatter the consciousness of the living. It contains a large number of primordial fragments, which can be absorbed in large quantities by the World-Elemental Artifact. Your soul is stable and unaffected by the soul sounds; you only need to maintain the power of the Three Elements Perfection to deal with it."

Wu Wei slightly raised his eyes, his gaze piercing through the increasingly thick fog ahead.

The fog was no longer gray-black, but tinged with a ghastly white, like countless translucent figures crowded together, slowly drifting, writhing, and overlapping. The outlines of broken buildings in the distance became blurred, and the whole world seemed to be immersed in a boundless sea of ​​the dead.

Wang Ziqi and the Falcon Squad remained at the street corner, not daring to take another step forward.

The five people were pale, their hands and feet were ice-cold, and they even unconsciously breathed softly, as if the slightest exertion would disturb the indescribable beings in the fog.

"It's too quiet..." Su Qing gripped the short blade tightly, her voice almost inaudible, "It's even more frightening than when those evil spirits surrounded us earlier..."

"I always feel like there are countless eyes watching us." Chen Yue stared at the static-filled drone screen, her fingertips trembling slightly. "All signals are disrupted, as if... blocked by countless spirits."

Zhao Hu gripped the Fiend-Breaking Shield tightly, his arm trembling uncontrollably. This burly man, who was always fearless, could no longer hide the suppressed fear in his voice: "I have killed countless fiends, but never before... have I felt this panicked. It's not that I'm afraid of being torn apart, it's that I'm afraid... of turning into those things in the mist."

Wang Ziqi gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed on the depths of the white mist, his throat dry and tight.

He could vaguely see countless faint human figures drifting silently in the mist.

They had no feet, no voices, and their faces were indistinct. They wore tattered clothes, some were missing half of their heads, some had large holes through their chests, and some had their arms twisted at bizarre angles.

They are not evil spirits, nor are they monsters.

They are the fragmented, lingering souls of those who died in these ruins.

At that very moment, a faint, distant, and extremely sorrowful sigh came from the mist.

It wasn't the voice of one person, but the voices of millions overlapping, as light as a breath, yet penetrating the eardrums, seeping into the depths of the mind, and clinging to the soul.

At the street corner, a guard suddenly clutched his head and knelt down. His eyes glazed over, drool dripped from his mouth, and he muttered to himself. His mind was shattered in an instant.

"Cover your ears! Don't listen! Don't look at anything in the fog!" Wang Ziqi shouted, but it was too late.

The white fog grew thicker, and the eerie ghostly figures became more and more numerous, densely packed throughout the entire street, filling the gaps between buildings, and filling the sky and the ground. They drifted, collided, and entangled silently, like clumps of despairing cotton wool, wrapping all the living people in layers at the center.

Wu Wei stood alone in the mist of souls.

His soul is protected by a central pivot, impervious to all other souls; neither the sounds of the soul nor any lingering resentment can shake him in the slightest.

But he could clearly "see" that this so-called fog was not fog at all, but a soul haze formed by the crowding and entanglement of billions of remnant souls.

The next second, all the drifting ghostly figures stopped moving at the same time.

They all turned in the same direction—to the deepest part of the street, to the department store that was more than half collapsed.

The white fog there was a ghastly white, so thick it was impossible to disperse.

A figure, larger and colder than all the ghostly figures combined, slowly "seeped" out from between the broken floorboards.

Its body was translucent, like a constantly swaying thick white mist, without a clear head or distinct limbs, only a blurry and enormous humanoid outline.

Countless tiny, painful, struggling half-human faces were wrapped around its body, densely packed and layered, crying out, twisting, dissipating, and then reforming on its surface.

This is an existence formed from the fusion of countless souls and malevolent forces.

Lord of Ten Thousand Souls.

It did not move immediately, but remained quietly suspended deep within the soul mist, like the core of this sea of ​​the dead.

A silent wave of soul energy slowly emanated from it.

It wasn't a gale, nor a shockwave; it was a tremor that acted directly on the mind.

"Ugh—!"

Two more team members collapsed to the ground, clutching their heads, their eyes rolling back in their head, their minds shattered in an instant. They lost control, slamming their foreheads against the ground, blood streaming down their faces. They were still alive, but they were no longer themselves.

Blood slowly trickled down Wang Ziqi's nose, his ears were ringing, and it felt as if a million tiny needles were piercing his mind. He gritted his teeth and held on, barely managing not to collapse. His voice was hoarse and trembling.

"Your Excellency...it's devouring souls...it's turning all the dead...into part of itself..."

Wu Wei frowned slightly.

He saw clearly.

With each slight tremor of the Lord of Ten Thousand Souls, several weak remnant souls are drawn into its body, crushed, assimilated, and absorbed, becoming part of its form.

It is not just killing, but collecting, merging, and turning the entire land into its eternal prison.

All around, low-level evil spirits—corpse spirits, shadow spirits, withered claw demons—were originally wandering aimlessly...

They stopped moving, stiffly turned their heads, and bowed slightly in the direction of the Lord of Ten Thousand Souls.

Subsequently, under the control of an invisible force, they walked slowly towards Wu Wei in a dense and orderly fashion.

It wasn't a furious charge, nor a vicious attack.

It approached silently and orderly, like a funeral.

The rotting soles of the feet sank into the bloody mud, making a sticky, dull sound as they stepped, one step after another.

The fog grew thicker.

The soul is denser.

The Lord of Ten Thousand Souls still hangs deep within, his face blurred, silently "watching" Wu Wei.

There was no violence, no murderous intent, only a desolate indifference that devoured everything.

Living beings, souls, malevolent forces—all existence will become part of it.

Wu Wei slowly raised his hand and gripped the short gun behind him again.

The gun felt slightly cool, and the Yang Flame Blood Essence pulsed gently at my fingertips.

He did not rush forward, but stood alone among countless remnant souls and evil spirits, his black clothes standing tall and his eyes cold as ice.

A bleak mist of souls drifted around him, painful whispers swirled in his ears, countless malevolent spirits approached from the front, and the being formed from the convergence of ten thousand souls stood silently in the depths.

The coldest and most terrifying thing in this post-apocalyptic wasteland is right before your eyes.

A confrontation that involves devouring souls without shedding flesh or blood has only just begun.