Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

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Just as he was about to succumb, a light suddenly shone from the depths of his consciousness.

It wasn't the despairing gray of the Spider God, but rather a clear, cool moonlight like a mountain spring.

At this moment, Chen Mo's sea of ​​consciousness was already filled with those billions of eyes, and countless threads were eroding his consciousness, trying to assimilate him into another silent, roaring human face on the spider web.

After that light appeared, all the threads froze for a moment, as if they had been frozen.

The Moonlit Treasure Mirror

The ancient mirror, which had been dormant deep within his consciousness, was now slowly rising.

The mirror's surface was ancient and mottled, with cloud patterns engraved on its edges that he had never understood, and it emitted a faint moon-white halo.

It doesn't have the overwhelming presence of the Spider God, but it possesses an indescribable composure.

It's as if no matter what they're facing, they're just doing something insignificant.

The projection of the Spider God moved.

Millions of eyes no longer looked at Chen Mo, but instead turned to the ancient mirror.

Grayish-white threads surged in from all directions, attempting to strangle and assimilate the moon.

The Moonlit Treasure Mirror trembled slightly.

There was no loud noise, no ripples, just a slight tremor.

Ripples spread across the mirror's surface, like a pebble being thrown into a moonlit lake.

The ripples spread outwards, and wherever they passed, the grayish-white threads broke and melted away, just like snow meeting the blazing sun.

In the middle of the network cable, the giant spider emitted a silent shriek.

The sound didn't reach Chen Mo's ears, but exploded deep within his soul.

Billions of faces opened their mouths and roared simultaneously, and the crisscrossing spider webs began to tremble wildly, like a wounded beast struggling.

Chen Mo's consciousness was almost shattered by the shrill shriek.

The paper elf spirit, which was about to materialize, trembled and began to dim, as if it would dissipate at any moment.

Just then, the Moon Mirror flew up.

It rose from the depths of Chen Mo's consciousness, growing higher and brighter until it finally hung in the sky above his consciousness, like a real bright moon.

Moonlight streamed down.

It is cool and gentle, untouched by any dust.

The moonlight fell on Chen Mo's swaying paper elf spirit, and all the trembling instantly subsided.

He felt as if he were soaking in the purest spring water, and the pollution that had invaded his consciousness was being forced out little by little.

It's not about forgetting, it's about purification.

The moonlight continued to spread, and wherever it passed, the gray-white void began to fade and lighten, and the dense spider webs quickly collapsed and turned into nothingness.

The projection of the Spider God struggled unwillingly.

Its enormous body began to writhe, billions of human faces roared madly, and eight long legs that pierced through the void rose simultaneously, stabbing towards the bright moon.

The Moonlit Mirror remained unmoved.

The moonlight was just brighter.

The moment the long, piercing leg touched the moonlight, it hissed and melted away as if a red-hot iron rod were being plunged into ice water.

The projection of the ancient god let out a final, desperate shriek, its massive body began to shatter, and finally collapsed with a deafening roar.

The roars of billions of faces echoed in the void before gradually dissipating.

The gray and white world receded like the tide.

Chen Mo's consciousness returned to clarity.

The Moonlit Treasure Mirror remained suspended there, emitting a faint moonlight, before finally slowly falling back into the depths of the sea of ​​consciousness.

Just before it sank in, a line of small characters suddenly appeared on the mirror.

"When the moon shines brightly, no evil can invade."

The writing flashed by, and the ancient mirror returned to its original state, falling silent once more.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Chen Mo suddenly opened his eyes, and his first feeling was a headache.

It wasn't the usual kind of pain.

It was the kind of pain that felt like it was about to explode.

It's like someone is chiseling nails into his temple, one after another, each nail going into the bone, and then prying it out from the inside.

He groaned and instinctively tried to raise his hand to press his temple, but found that he didn't even have the strength to do so.

Everything in front of me is swaying.

The sky was gray and hazy, the courtyard walls were mottled, and the ground was wet.

The terrifying infected creature had vanished, leaving behind only a pool of black blood still emitting white smoke.

The shadow puppets were gone, but Chen Mo could sense their stillness in the shadows.

After losing the support of spiritual power and Yin energy, they automatically disengaged from their combat form and retreated back into the shadows.

At this moment, not a single drop of Yin energy remained in his body.

The cool aura that had been lingering in his dantian was now completely gone.

My whole body felt hollowed out, light and airy, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

He lay on the ground, face up, gazing at the gloomy sky above.

There was no sun, no clouds, just a uniform gray-white expanse, like a giant shroud.

The courtyard was very quiet.

The pool of blood was still emitting wisps of white smoke, and the black liquid had seeped into the soil, leaving only a layer of sticky residue.

The air was filled with a fishy, ​​stench mixed with the smell of dirt, which made him feel nauseous.

Chen Mo lay there, his brows furrowing from time to time.

He thought he was going to faint from the pain.

He suddenly remembered what Lin Ruoyun had said: "You're just unlucky."

"But I survived!"

"Hahahaha~~~~!"

Chen Mo's expression began to contort, and countless faces flashed across his face.

"I survived!"

"Hahaha!"

He smiled.

He laughed very loudly.

I laughed so hard that tears came out.

But those eyes remained cold.

"Bad luck," he muttered, repeating the words over and over. "Bad luck...heh...now it's your turn to be unlucky...haha..."

After lying down for a few minutes and regaining some strength, Chen Mo used the ground as a support to slowly lift himself up.

With each movement, the chisel in his temple sank deeper, causing him to feel dizzy and his vision to blur.

He knelt on the ground, hands supporting his knees, head bowed, panting heavily.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, hitting the ground and leaving a small, dark stain.

He gasped for breath for a long time before finally raising his head to look at the center of the pool of blood.

There's a tumor there.

It is about the size of a fist, grayish-white, and covered with dense patterns on its surface.

It was half-submerged in black blood, motionless, as if it were dead.

But Chen Mo knew it wasn't dead.

He could feel it was still trembling slightly, like a heart that was still beating.

Chen Mo stared at it for a while, then supported himself on his knees and struggled to his feet.

As soon as I stood up straight, my legs started to tremble.

He staggered and grabbed the courtyard wall beside him to prevent himself from falling again.

After a dozen seconds or so, he used his sword for support and slowly made his way towards the pool of blood.

Every step felt like walking on a knife's edge, causing him to break out in a cold sweat from the pain.

Five steps.

Three steps.

step.

He stood at the edge of the blood, looking down at the tumor.

Only when he got closer could Chen Mo see clearly what those patterns were—they were eyes.

The eyes were countless, all closed.

They are moving; the eyeballs under their eyelids are rotating.

Chen Mo stared at the rotating eyeballs and suddenly felt a surge of hunger.

he?

think?

eat?

You actually want to eat this tumor?

To immerse yourself in Chapter 122, Hunger, please click here.