thefictionvixens 0070 Finding the Future Amidst the Malice of Fate
0070 Finding the Future Amidst the Malice of Fate
When Zhou Yun heard the Eye of the Worm say that Zhou Yun, Angron, and Onomamus should fight each other, he knew clearly that fate had once again led them down the same path.
In the original history, the same situation occurred: the high-ranking riders demanded that Angron and Onomamus fight each other, but Angron refused.
So the high-ranking riders implanted the Butcher's Nail into Angron's brain... the beginning of a bloody and dark future.
Zhou Yun covered his mouth, a feeling of nausea rising in his throat.
This shouldn't be happening.
The timing is wrong; it's not that early.
Everything was getting better and better, so why did it suddenly take such a sharp turn for the worse?
He sensed intense malice, a malice that was guiding his fate in the worst possible direction.
The simplest way to break this deadlock is to keep Angron silent and let him kill Zhou Yun and Onomamus.
That way, at least he won't have the butcher's nail implanted in him.
But Angron is Angron after all; he can't do that.
He possesses qualities that Robert Guilliman learned from Connor and Mrs. Euton, and has talents similar to those of the Lord of Fire Dragons.
Angron is empathetic; he can grieve for the suffering of others and rejoice in their happiness. He is a simple and kind person.
This is also why he was implanted with the Butcher's Nail and completely destroyed.
Is this destined to be the case...?
No.
clam down.
In this situation, Zhou Yun became extremely calm.
The minds of the Macurac scholars, the Nusera gladiators, and the Emperor of the Golden Throne all began to think simultaneously.
Why did this happen ahead of schedule?
Why did the high-level riders suddenly want Zhou Yun and the other two to fight each other?
Wait... they must have noticed that the subspace energy provided by the arena is decreasing.
But they could never have imagined that the emperor on the Golden Throne had placed his will inside a gladiator. Every time this gladiator killed an opponent, he would take the opponent's soul and ascend to the Golden Throne, scaring away the demons of Khorne who were dining near the arena.
If their high-level riders could even think of this, then Zhou Yun would truly be impressed. He suggested that they quickly develop aerospace technology, paralyze the entire galaxy, and render Khorne and Genki unconscious, then throw them into the arena to fight.
They would definitely use their own thinking to figure out why, even though there were still as many gladiatorial battles in the arena, the amount of warp energy gained from sacrifices was decreasing.
The simplest answer: The demons got tired of it; they wanted to see something even more bloodthirsty.
Therefore, they would try to organize larger, bloodier, and more brutal gladiatorial battles in an attempt to obtain more warp energy.
That's why Supra, the ruler of Diya, came here.
The person behind that worm eye, the person in charge of that arena, would want them to kill each other.
So, before Anglong could say no, Zhou Yun spoke first.
"That's it?" Zhou Yun said, looking at the eight worm eyes in the sky.
Silence fell instantly; the air became still, and the audience in the stands suddenly fell silent as well.
Anglong also stared wide-eyed at Zhou Yun.
Zhou Yun strode to the center of the Worm's Eye, and then to the center of the Red Sand.
The audience stared wide-eyed at the scene.
Never before has a gladiator dared to show such contempt for a high-ranking rider.
Contempt, yes, pure contempt.
Every audience member present could hear that Zhou Yun's voice contained no fear, no hatred, and not even anger.
It was pure contempt.
He stood motionless in the center of the sand, his eyes sweeping contemptuously over the stands hidden behind the force field.
Actually, it wasn't that Zhou Yun didn't want to move, but that he was already unable to move at this moment.
The howling psionic energy was flowing through his fragile mortal body. Zhou Yun had stuffed all the psionic energy belonging to the Warhound Think Tank into this body.
He forcibly raised his psionic energy to level 13Δ, approaching level 14γ.
Meanwhile, after so many sacrifices, the curtains inside the arena had become thin.
Those primal, unguided torrents of pure subspace were also roaring into Zhou Yun's body.
Zhou Yun used the biochemical psionic techniques of the Bright Feather School to adjust his voice, expression, and subtle movements to make his voice sound more convincing and his expression more persuasive.
His telepathic spiritual energy was also at work, helping Zhou Yun adjust his mental state, sense the emotions permeating the surrounding air, and implant psychological suggestions into the minds of those looking at him through actions.
His precognitive psychic abilities were almost squeezing every nerve in his brain to function, with the future flashing back in his mind in the next few seconds.
Zhou Yun carefully considered his next move, observing the different changes that would occur after he made different actions.
Doing this places a great burden on the body and the brain, no less than being directly immersed in subspace radiation.
At this moment, his bones had begun to crack, his cells were dying in large numbers, and his nerves were breaking apart.
Ordinary people cannot do such a thing. The intense pain caused by doing so would drive a normal person to madness, as they would be powerless to control the surging spiritual energy.
Zhou Yun can withstand mental attacks, but physical attacks are much harder to resist. It's likely that after today, within a few years at most, this body will become essentially incapacitated.
But for Zhou Yun, this was not unacceptable.
He must find his future amidst the malice of fate.
"A worm! Is that all you know about bloodshed?"
Zhou Yun questioned the Worm Eye:
"We are all sharp blades forged on this red sand, each capable of severing countless heads and drawing countless drops of blood."
"And you, foolish worm, do you want us to collide and shatter, leaving only a pile of broken metal for the gods to admire?"
"Are you going to let all the blood we could have shed go to waste? Are you going to let all the carnage we could have brought be reduced to ashes?"
"What courage is there in this? What honor is there in this? What's there to see?"
"Listen! Worm, listen carefully, the bloodthirsty gods are laughing, mocking you, coward, for trying to understand what courage and slaughter are, and laughing at the gladiatorial contests you offer."
"Listen, they say you have betrayed your blood."
In a VIP box on the high platform of the arena, Deepak, the arena's manager, who was controlling the Eye of the Worm, had a face flushed with anger. His pale, fat fingers were twisted together, and his loose skin was trembling slightly.
He watched Zhou Yun stand in the center of the arena, the Eye of the Worm hovering beside him as if it were an ornament. He spoke those words calmly, indifferently, and with contempt.
Deepak even hallucinated, as if he saw golden sunlight emanating from the slave... as if he were not a slave, but a monarch.
No, no, he was a slave!
The slave dared to humiliate him like that. Before the ruler of Daisia, Deepak looked at Supra with fear, at the great king of the first family.
Supra swallowed slightly, his throat moving gently.
For some reason, the gladiator's words made his blood boil.
Perhaps he is right. The reason why the gods no longer bestow power upon them is because Deepak's foolishness and cowardice have desecrated the fighting and bloodshed of the arena, desecrated the courage and anger within it, and also desecrated the bloodline of the Tarka family.
"My lord?! My Mingguang, how could you—no, no, that's not what I meant, I understand..."
"Slave, be grateful, for Dicia's only sun will grant you the opportunity to speak with him."
A cacophony of sounds erupted from the worm's eye, followed by a voice distinct from the shrill, grotesque one.
"Slave." The voice rang out, questioning Zhou Yun, "Tell me, in your eyes, what kind of bloodshed do the gods want to see?"