569 Only Power
Unbelievable sight: a towering fire demon, its entire body ablaze with inextinguishable flames.
It has not yet been led by a tall and mighty leader.
Its body was surrounded by raging flames, like a burning ball of fire, obscuring its features. Standing over ten feet tall, it appeared exceptionally imposing, powerful, and mysterious.
The intense heat filled the air with endless fear and despair, as if the surrounding rocks and minerals were being consumed by flames.
Compared to the Flame Demon God, it possesses even greater power and an aggressive, destructive, and violent nature, inherently capable of devouring and destroying everything.
The Flame Demon Lord was struggling like a dead fish, unable to utter a word of begging for mercy as his throat was choked.
With a 'click,' as easily as snapping a noodle, a gentle twist, and the breath ceased instantly.
He gave it a disdainful glance and muttered dismissively, 'The power of bloodline—you lowly, flawed beings know nothing of it.'
Gently picking up the whispering evil god's altar, he gazed at the lifelike fire demon statue, lost in thought.
After a careful and meticulous exploration, I was instantly awestruck.
Overwhelmed with excitement, his words brimming with madness and confidence, he whispered, 'The legend seems to be true!'
An irrepressible excitement welled up within me: 'It seems I can grow up even faster.'
The primordial veins of the Flame Demon can pass through barriers, descend into the outside world, absorb flesh and blood, and achieve immortality. Haha, it seems it's true.
The purer one's bloodline, the more one yearns for even greater purity.
It was a yearning for power.
A disregard for the lives and deaths of ordinary, weak, and vulnerable people.
At this moment, it seemed as if he had found the path to greater power.
This path involves offering sacrifices at the demonic altar to reach the primordial veins of the Flame Demon, absorbing flesh and blood to achieve immortality.
Ambition and power are the source of endless disasters and suffering.
He cautiously looked around, then suddenly unleashed his power, causing the surroundings to erupt like magma, with flames burning everywhere.
All the defective products had no time to beg for mercy; they were instantly annihilated, even those within ten feet below.
Gently examining the changes inside the altar, sure enough, seeing the subtle alterations, a hint of excitement could not be concealed.
A fiery heart, born from desolation and death, stems from the instinct for destruction and annihilation, and the desire to grow stronger and pass on one's bloodline.
His emotions surged, and his eyes flashed with an urgent and frenzied killing intent.
In this simple and straightforward thought process, the word "immortality" inevitably comes to mind. Immortality and indestructibility are truly captivating to all beings, both tangible and intangible.
Suddenly, I felt a surge of pleading power, so intense and destructive, a murderous urge.
A slight nod, as if unable to disappoint the first person who made the request, such intense killing intent, a heart yearning to become stronger, a desperate plea, a supplication.
Without thinking, he exerted a little force, channeling his own power into it. Instantly, a strange power transcended the constraints of space and flowed over.
Inside and outside the capital of Qi, the harsh king, who would never return, could not see any sign of the capital after his departure.
After the Xuanji Sect took control, they plundered resources from all around, layer upon layer, until finally the vast populace, the common people, bore the brunt of the final contribution.
With such a powerful force as the Xuanji Sect, their need for resources is naturally inexhaustible; their thirst for resources is like a bottomless pit.
They relentlessly plunder the resources around them; no place, whether mountains, forests, or fields, can escape their greedy clutches.
The proliferation of gangs and factions, each fighting against each other, is exactly the result the Xuanji Sect desires.
Excessive unity implies potential instability, a situation they absolutely do not want to see.
There's no need for excessive scheming and plotting to sow discord and create conflict in order to maintain one's ruling position.
Simply reward the person with the greatest merit with cultivation techniques and elixirs, and the contradiction will arise naturally.
A three-year-old child ascended the throne, but all he did was eat and sleep, knowing nothing about governing the country or the suffering of the people.
Within this vast palace, news could not travel more than three zhang (approximately 10 meters) away.
They forbade any news from leaving the palace, regardless of whether it was beneficial or harmful.
Those who harbored secret intentions and dared to take risks all disappeared without a trace, and those who remained, even if they had some intentions, kept them tightly hidden.
The fishmonger was ultimately cheated out of his money by both the cunning and the corrupt officials, and was thrown out with his arms and legs broken.
In just a few days, the human experience felt longer than a lifetime.
The body suffered immense pain, and the mind also suffered a heavy blow.
Cruel and ruthless. How wonderful the old order was. I long to go back to the past, back to when I didn't stand up for others.
Go back to when King Qi was still alive, back to those years when the laws became increasingly strict and harsh.
Despite exhausting all their wealth, there was still no cure for his disability. Not wanting to burden his family, he ultimately had to bear everything alone.
He lay in a dark, damp, dilapidated cave outside the city, awaiting death.
The cave was long and narrow, damp and cold, with an indescribable musty smell permeating the air.
In the distance, three ragged, haggard-looking men with fierce eyes were secretly watching him.
Their unsettling gazes were fixed on the cave entrance; they had been taking turns waiting all day, seemingly anticipating something.
On the verge of pain and despair, the fishmonger's voice was low and mocking, his eyes filled with fierce resentment: "Zhan Liuliang, Zhan Liuliang, you're just a fisherman, why are you so foolish?"
Caught in the chaos, how could a mere six-foot-tall person withstand swords and spears, or the power of someone who has achieved mastery of cultivation?
Resentment, madness, thoughts in my heart: if anyone can help me get revenge, I'm willing to pay any price.
The thought that if he died, his wife and children would probably belong to other people, and he didn't know how they would treat his children.
Anger welled up in my heart, boundless and unquenchable.
Suddenly, the voices of three people talking outside could be heard. Perhaps they were certain that the person inside was about to die, so they didn't have much to worry about.
But the sudden sound of conversation made the fishmonger tense up.
He struggled to turn his broken, still-healing limbs, his taut hands unable to exert any strength, and unconsciously grabbed a stone that appeared out of nowhere.
But no matter how hard I try, I can't hold on tight; all I can do is offer myself a sense of peace.
The three people outside the cave were whispering to each other. Although their voices were low, they were unusually clear at that moment.
"Brother, brother! This one is about to die. If it's a sacrifice, I'm afraid we won't gain anything." One of the figures, who was much thinner and shorter, said.
The other man beside him remained silent for a moment, then spoke with a hint of urgency and fierceness, "Big brother, third brother is right. Let's not hesitate any longer, let's hurry. It'll get dark soon if we wait any longer."
With thick arms, wearing a rough cotton-padded jacket underneath, and a patch of scabs on his eyebrow, the eldest brother cautiously looked at his third brother!
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