Chapter 1380 - 658: New Cycle_3

Chapter 1380: Chapter 658: New Cycle_3

When the divine anthem finished, those death gods wrapped in red robes no longer had to pretend, no longer had to act; they cheered in unison, leaping down into the Lower Realm like bald vultures who had hacked open blood‑stained wings, circling above calamity fields piled with corpses like mountains. Like packs of unleashed mongrels, they feasted with abandon in Purgatory.

With every dive, they harvested tens of thousands of living souls from the earth, swallowing whole and skinning alive those Human Souls who had died miserably in wars of calamity, in military disasters and famines—ripping them to tatters, gulping and chewing, laughing as if savoring in one go all the suffering of a human lifetime.

One after another, they gorged themselves till their hides gleamed with grease, swelling fat and full; every sweep reaped tens of thousands of living souls and human spirits, packing their bellies taut and bulging, blown up like colossal red hot‑air balloons, imprinting countless howling, shrieking faces, limbs and hands across their stomachs, then soaring into the sky like blood‑colored tadpole heads, merging into the sky‑filling Blood Sea, digesting these living souls and Essence Blood as their own—only to then let it all thunder out in torrents, pouring down a new round of viscous blood rain, as if Heaven itself had hemorrhoids and was spewing dysentery.

Yes, the Blood God’s Son is actually rather picky: among a human’s soul, the most precious Fetal Light, Cool Spirit, and Nether Essence is completely drained and absorbed, refined into the Blood God’s Son, while the lesser Seven Spirits are torn to pieces and flung out to reincarnate. They patter down, seeping into the ruins beneath this Imperial City, into that mountain‑like heap of Wet Chickens, those demon eggs mashed together in big clumps like piles of ramshorn snail spawn. Bathed in the rampaging ferocity of Demons and wild beasts stampeding across the ground, they awaken in Purgatory, revel in torrential storms, are born from the Blood River, and in the blazing Divine Light filling the sky, they greet a brand‑new death.

Yes, this is the new Heavenly Dao, this is the new cycle of reincarnation, this is the new rule of the game.

Cangtian, the earth, reincarnation—the entire Earth has already been dissolved into the Blood Sea, entered into the game, added to Liu Xiaoliu’s chessboard, turned into a playground for the Gods and Demons of All Heavens and Myriads of Worlds.

This world, this Earth, has already been integrated into the Ten Absolute Array, fused with the Heavenly Dao Simulator; as the shackles on cultivation are unlocked, the cycle of Heaven and Earth, the wheel of life and death, likewise accelerates, evolves, mutates.

Humans and demons, humans and Demons, humans and ghosts—ground up, torn apart, fused together—charge headlong toward that unprecedented, never‑before‑seen future, beyond any hope of turning back.

Yes, beyond all turning back, with no retreat; after all, wasn’t it already said:

When a man dies, he becomes a ghost; when a ghost dies, it becomes a "ni"; when a "ni" dies, it becomes "xi"; when "xi" dies, it becomes "yi".

When a human is devoured by the Blood God’s Son, once the Three Souls are eaten, there are still Seven Spirits that can be torn apart and flung out for another turn of rebirth.

And this land teeming with demons is the finest Dao Body, the best material for calamity, the supreme vessel.

With each turn they split into ghosts, split into "ni", split and unfurl as Xi Yi, each one can be eaten at least three times.

Thus every person, every womb, every lifetime can reincarnate into Demons seven or eight times over; the more you kill, the more there are to eat; the more you eat, the more there is to kill—circling endlessly, evolving without limit. Everyone across All Heavens and Myriads of Worlds can have themselves a wild time—how delightful, no?

Except you can still only eat three times. The natives of Taiji Heaven, though their Divine Souls were originally mighty, surpassing all heavens, still cannot endure being ripped apart, reaped, and devoured again and again by the Blood God’s Son.

With every harvest by the Heavenly Dao they must be torn to shreds; sooner or later they will thoroughly fall into a state unseen, unheard, unable ever again to reincarnate, never to transcend in all eternity, reduced to Bubble Shadow with not even a trace remaining.

Play the game like this and in less than fifteen hundred years, Taiji Heaven will no longer possess, in any true sense, beings who can gather Three Souls and condense Seven Spirits. All the myriad living beings will be eaten clean, wiped to the last smear, turned into food and excrement for the Taoist Ancestors of all heavens.

That is why they so openly invited the Gods and Demons of All Heavens and Myriads of Worlds to sit down at the same table and play. That is why the Gods and Demons of All Realms were willing to descend here to join the fun.

Whether you wish to descend and Ascend as Demon, or to save the world, or to slaughter all under heaven, or to sacrifice all living beings—whatever you plan to do, it doesn’t matter. Taiji Heaven is your nurturing cradle, your hunting ground for binge‑eating.

No matter who wins or loses, who lives or dies, who takes the final game—so long as you remain within the board and keep playing, the banker will never lose.

As long as the Nine Provinces and Twelve Countries keep hacking at each other, never ceasing their calamity wars, in the end all humans, all demons, all Demons will merge into this Blood Sea, indistinguishable from one another.

All the tragic deaths, all the Human Souls, will eventually be utterly devoured by the blood rain.

Thus whenever blood rain falls from the heavens, it is as if everyone suddenly knows their own future, as if they vaguely comprehend their Doomsday.

Thus whenever Tianku weeps blood from the sky, the defenders of cities, besiegers of walls, the slaughterhouse fodder, the porridge‑eaters—everyone trembles from the heart.

All living beings bathe in a fear that cannot be named, cannot be voiced, knowing that their great limit, their final deadline, draws near.

In the end, countless demons, countless beasts, countless humans will charge into the rain driven by this uncontrollable terror, bathe in the blood rain and go mad, bathe in the Blood River and slaughter in a dripping frenzy.

As if they are singing in joy, yet also howling in grief; as if celebrating, yet also in lamentation—utterly demon‑mad, utterly berserk, hacking and devouring with everything they have.

As if the hunger and thirst in their bellies can never be sated, no matter how much they eat. As if no matter how many they kill, everything lost can never be found again.

Only one thing is crystal clear:

They must not die.

Must not die.

No matter what they do, no matter what they intend to do, they absolutely must not lose, must not die.

Because this time, it is different.

There is no reincarnation.

No more chances.

Once you die, you will never again be human.

As though the wheel of Heaven and Earth has become a colossal blood millstone, grinding and crushing, turning and killing, stripping away every last drop of essence that belongs to "human," scraping off every bit of dreg that bears the name "human," destroying all living beings upon the earth with equal indifference.

And people just keep running wildly, fleeing for their lives, killing, eating, playing, reveling, singing at the top of their lungs, gaming, indulging!

Until at last they are utterly exhausted.

Until at last they are ground down to dust and chaff.

Until at last, humanity’s Doomsday arrives.

And in the very end, all things under Heaven and Earth will be fused together by human blood, gathered into one final unity.

From this Blood Sea of humanity, new Gods will be offered up in sacrifice.

From this Blood Sea of humanity, new beings will gestate.

From this Blood Sea of humanity, a new cycle of reincarnation will begin.

But in that cycle, there will no longer be humans.

And Liu Xiaoliu’s Dao will thus be fulfilled.