Chapter 1651 - 124: Vows_6

This time, Serey did not plan to risk his life; after all, the Night King hated him so much that he didn’t even need to step into the Dark Void to provoke his hatred and thereby distract him.

Serey couldn’t help but complain, "It’s really not easy."

Littered with large and small blood holes, Serey’s body soon healed, as he was also an Undead. But just as he planned to continue with his scheme, he noticed the Dark Void before him receding bit by bit, infiltrating back into the ruins, hiding within the Origin Tower.

Serey glanced up at the blazing flames, a large amount of Ether surging around the Origin Tower; evidently, it had already first submerged into the Ethereal Realm.

"Damn it, are you really that afraid of death?"

This time, it was Serey chasing after the Dark Void, cursing as he ran.

Serey knew his father too well. He detected the crisis at the Origin Tower, even though this crisis was merely triggered by a Defender. But as long as it posed even the slightest threat to him, the Night King would become completely tense, to the point where he could set aside his hatred for Serey.

No matter how much Serey cursed or launched attacks, the Dark Void stubbornly retreated. Seeing this, Serey grew anxious; if that cursed thing retreated any further, Bologue and the others would be trapped within the Origin Tower.

Serey wasn’t too worried about Bologue and the others, but Olivia was still with them.

To use an inappropriate metaphor, Serey was like a child with delayed development. After so many years, he finally started to face up to Olivia’s significance to him and his responsibility as a father.

Though it was a bit late, thankfully, there was still time.

Serey mustered all his strength and sprinted. He determined to stop the Night King’s retreat, but suddenly, several thorns rose from the ground, not only blocking Serey’s path but also delivering a heavy blow, knocking him to the ground.

After rolling a few times, Serey quickly got up, his Secret Energy indiscriminately attacking the thorny thicket. However, aside from igniting a few buried corpses amidst the ruins, these thorns were entirely unaffected by Serey’s influence.

They had neither blood nor flesh, and if one had to identify their essence, they were fragments of the Devil, transcending mortal material.

Serey saw the manifestation of those Devil fragments.

It was a complete monster, even calling it a monster failed to describe its existence properly. It was a life form beyond human comprehension, an entity composed of endless bloodlust and madness, wrapped in countless thorns.

As it advanced, the corpses and innards hanging on the thorny stalks shook like decorations in a frenzy, announcing themselves as trophies of victory.

Serey swallowed hard; the frightening thorny tendrils thrived, twisted, and bizarre, piercing York’s skin, embedding deep into the flesh, even touching the bone. Yet York showed no signs of pain or lamentation; instead, as his body was sliced, he was overcome with euphoria and satisfaction.

Clothed in thorns, adorned with corpses, fed by bloodshed.

"Another one comes."

A heavy pressure fell upon Serey’s shoulders. Originally, York was subdued by the swarming Undead, but as the war progressed, with escalating death and bloodshed, the once-restrained York gained strength through continuous offerings, becoming the embodiment of the war itself.

Serey found it difficult to measure York’s power; from an Extraordinary perspective, he was merely a First Stage Condenser. Even mutatied to such a state, he was not considered a Calamity of this world.

But this did not imply York was weak; on the contrary, this peculiar existence bore fragments of the Sin of Wrath, part of his authority. It’s possible that this guy’s threat exceeded even that of the Night King.

Regardless of the level of threat, this bastard indeed blocked Serey’s path. Besides hacking through the endless weeds, Serey had no other options.

Dangerous red light flickered in Serey’s eyes, York too unfolded his own stance.

The thorns surged and whipped through the air like a swarm of frenzied serpents, sometimes leaping upward, flipping in midair, or expanding outward. Each thorn was in a state of extreme distortion, as if enduring an intolerable torment.

Serey took a deep breath, readying himself for this unknown powerful enemy, yet amidst the chaos and frenzy, the thorns suddenly froze in mid-air.

A crisp shattering sound entered Serey’s ears.

Clear cracks spread across the world, and then reality crumbled.

Just as the two were about to clash, the overlap of two realms extended here, masses of Ether washed over like a tide, dragging reality into the Ethereal Realm. At the same time, it seemed as if the whole world stood still.

The thorns that had been surging and whipping moments ago now seemed immobilized by an invisible force, stopping all motion. Serey too stood rigid on the spot.

At this moment, the air was filled with an eerie and tense atmosphere, the thorns hanging in mid-air, as if waiting for something, like a pack of leopards on the hunt, eyes locked on prey, ready to deliver a fatal strike when the prey was most negligent.

Serey sensed an invisible presence silently closing in, inducing an overwhelming sense of fear.

Footsteps sounded behind Serey; he attempted to turn his head, but his neck was frozen solid. Serey could do nothing until that scar-covered silhouette passed by him.

"Sai... Sai Zong?"

Seeing the flame-licked figure, Serey doubted his eyes, but the truth was, Sai Zong had arrived, venturing into this Hell.

For a moment, the tense tightness in Serey’s chest relaxed; Sai Zong had arrived, this Chosen One wielding the authority of wrath. With him here, Serey couldn’t imagine any opponent that could stand in their way.

"In the end, blades and swords must clash."

Another voice sounded, not from Sai Zong, but from directly ahead of Serey.

"What else?"

Sai Zong replied, "Besides blades and swords, what else can forcibly change our convictions?"

Serey looked towards the source of the voice, a dark silhouette slowly walking through the ruins.

That silhouette was very fragile, seemingly blown over by a passing breeze, yet amidst this apocalyptic scene, he stood resolute like iron, unaffected.

The man’s eyes were a brilliant azure, as if a deep starry sky had been embedded in them. Aside from those beautiful eyes, his face was entirely shrouded in darkness, like an abrupt silhouette.

Nobody told Serey the man’s identity, but upon seeing him, Serey felt a connection far surpassing blood ties, witnessing the source of the Villeries’ sins.

Serey’s body began to tremble uncontrollably, unsure if it was from excitement or fear. A name full of guilt rose in Serey’s mind.

The Sin of Pride.