Chapter Ninety: The Outer-Realm Heavenly Demon, Source of Power

The blazing sun was so fierce it made it hard to keep one’s eyes open.

After destroying the footage, altering his face and height, and changing clothes, Liu Tian walked slowly out of the deserted building with a bag in hand.

The instant he stepped outside, the already ruined old structure began to collapse in slow motion, falling apart into countless fragments that buried everything beneath them.

Yet no one came to investigate.

By the time the building first gave out that thunderous roar, the people nearby had already fled in alarm. By now, there was not a soul within a hundred meters.

And in truth, even if there had been, it would not have mattered. Even if someone managed to trace a few lingering clues back to Liu Tian, it would still not have mattered. The mistakes of the strong are often paid for by the weak.

His notion of spending his school days idly was nothing more than a passing whim. If anyone were to disturb him, Liu Tian might very well turn around and slaughter them outright, then tear off his mask and forcefully subdue every faction in the region, making them search for all manner of antiquities to provide him with source points. Anyone who refused would simply be erased in a single blow.

Even his body had been fashioned out of white light. Liu Tian was no longer as he had been in the previous world. He was, from head to toe, a demon beyond the boundaries of the world: causeless and consequence-free, heartless and unrestrained, doing whatever he pleased.

At his present level, even a modern society whose technology surpassed most of the Secret Martial World no longer posed a threat to him. As long as Liu Tian had not erased the personality of the Great Serpent, he could even face a nuclear bomb head-on and force his way through by releasing the Great Serpent.

The only beings that still gave Liu Tian pause were the hidden powerhouses dwelling within society, people like Odin. But how many such experts could there possibly be?

Even so, it was only caution, not wariness, and still less fear.

With enough utterly meaningless reserves of secret martial resources, merely having a sufficient number of levels, one source point was enough to recover from severe injury, two source points were enough to regrow severed limbs, and three source points were enough to return from the brink of death.

A reserve of ninety-seven source points meant that unless Liu Tian were instantly reduced to ashes and dust, with even his consciousness unable to stir, one would, under the most ideal circumstances, still have to kill him thirty-three times in succession.

Was there really anyone in this world capable of doing that? Liu Tian had serious doubts.

Moreover, perhaps because the current-driven Heavenly Martial Way had evolved from the emotion-focused Heavenly Martial Killing Path, or perhaps because the special current that strengthened cells required the will to increase cellular friction, Liu Tian had clearly discovered something in his earlier battles: when his emotions stayed high and his will remained unwavering, he could naturally unleash greater power without deliberately circulating his energy.

If he were to enter a battle fierce enough to kill him, there was no telling whether, midway through the fight, this fellow would break through yet again.

It was precisely because of these stacked advantages, because he had ample confidence, that Liu Tian was so unhurried now, waiting leisurely for time to make him stronger bit by bit.

But perhaps because he was too relaxed, Liu Tian, like any ordinary person, was somewhat insensitive to things beyond the limits of his common sense. He had overlooked certain matters—things that were spreading around him little by little, things that seemed insignificant now but might erupt on a grand scale as he continued to grow stronger.

Perhaps because his breakthrough had begun from the King of the Century, whenever Liu Tian used current drive, he would release a magnetic field endowed with a distinct will. That magnetic field would, drop by drop, alter the world’s own magnetic field, gradually bringing about a world better suited to him.

The reason this trait had not shown itself in the previous world was, first, that Liu Tian had left quickly enough, and second, that there was a mysterious white light—formed from the merged consciousness of countless people and grown many times over, capable of escorting someone through the tearing of the cosmos and directing them to a chosen world—which had forcibly suppressed the spread of this power.

Perhaps that was also why the white light, which had originally been fully capable of suppressing his tendency to assimilate others, had deliberately leaked a sliver of its own nature to warn Liu Tian. After all, no one would want a world full of fanatics whose strength was driven by emotion.

Not to mention that the upper limit of these fanatics’ growth was nowhere in sight.

As one of the most fundamental forces in the majority of material universes, electromagnetism’s potential was almost worthy of being called infinite.

For Liu Tian, who had chosen to take a step down the path of current drive, quickly leaving that world may well have been the only option.

...

On the other side of the city, a girl who did not look very old wore a troubled expression.

This was a small building she had found on short notice. To put it politely, its renovation had a rustic, back-to-basics charm; to put it bluntly, it was just a concrete shell.

But the room had one advantage: like the one she had in that vast northern city, it had a floor-to-ceiling window.

The furnishings inside were extremely simple. Out of the landlord’s stinginess, everything was furniture Xia Mi had bought temporarily.

All of it was cheap, sturdy, and practical. Aside from a newly purchased curtain with white lace gauze and dark teal velvet drapes, there was nothing valuable in the room. Even the bed was just wooden planks covered with a layer of woven mat. The down quilt and bedding that had once lain on it had only just been washed and were now drying on the balcony.

The bathroom was tiny, and there was no partition at all between the kitchen and the bedroom. After cooking, one could still smell the lingering greasy fumes for a long time. It could be said that apart from the excellent natural light, the place had no merits whatsoever.

Yet Xia Mi had already lived here alone for a year.

No, perhaps it should not be called living alone, but rather a dragon living alone—and among the dragon bloodlines that had stretched across countless ages, this dragon belonged to the highest rank.

In this world that Liu Tian had not yet fully understood, millions of years ago, the Black King Nidhogg, the original source of the dragon race and the one who fully mastered the mysteries of the elements, created dragons, this perfect species. Possessing wisdom, elemental power, and everything on this planet, the dragons proclaimed themselves the rulers of the world.

The dragons, lofty and supreme, ruled this world for countless ages and created an incomparably brilliant civilization. At their peak, they could even rely on their study of the elements and the development of alchemical techniques to carve out independent pocket dimensions upon the Earth.

But confined to a single planet and trapped by resources that were not infinite, what civilization could enjoy eternal glory?

After millions of years of splendor, the dragon rebellion led by the White King—whose status, power, and strength were second only to the Black King and who rose with one-third of the dragonkind—was brutally suppressed. Nidhogg no longer wished to create dragons that might come close to him.

The Black King split beneath himself into four great thrones, each controlling one of the four great elements: earth, fire, water, and wind, rather than the mental element that the White King wielded, an element capable of commanding earth, fire, water, and wind all at once.

Even so, the Black King still felt it was not secure enough. Each throne was occupied by a pair of twins, dividing the throne into authority and force. The one bearing authority was granted weaker power but greater wisdom, while the one bearing force was granted stronger power but a weaker temperament.

Unless the two devoured one another and became one, the twins—who could not even fully command the elements they were meant to control—would never possess power sufficient to threaten the Black King.

Yet all intelligent life eventually finds a way out. Who knew how many years later, Odin was born, the Black King died, and the slumber of the four great monarchs caused the authority that governed the world to fall into human hands—no, into the hands of human-dragon hybrids.

And now, the dragons that had once slept were gradually awakening again, while the dragon kings made their preparations for a prophecy.

The Black King Nidhogg would inevitably return. He was despair and hell itself, and with wings hung heavy with human bones, he would blot out the sky. He was Skadi’s shears; on the day of his vengeance, even if you were Odin, when you stepped out of your palace bearing your invincible spear, the road beneath your feet would be nothing but a path of no return.

As for Xia Mi, the identity of a girl was merely her disguise. Her true identity was one of the Four Great Dragon Kings, the twin seated upon the throne of earth and mountains, holding the half of authority within the dual power of rule and force, and able at any moment to devour the other half that held force.

Yet this Dragon King was unwilling to devour her younger brother, who was both the easiest target and the one most perfectly suited to her. So, in order to obtain Odin, the only Dragon King-level combat power whose location could be determined, she had come here.

She had already been here for a year, and Xia Mi had never found the trace of the Nibelungen in which Odin was hidden. A couple of days ago, she had clearly sensed a distinct fluctuation, and should have gone to check it.

But a change, a change that had arisen in her for reasons she could not understand, stopped her.

What in the world was going on?

At the window, where she could stare directly into the sun without any strain, Xia Mi rested her chin in her hand and thought. Everything in the houses around her was reflected in her mind, yet it was no longer elemental perception as before, but plain and simple ultrasonic detection.

Why would such a strange change occur in what should have been nothing more than an ordinary hybrid body?

Her dragon blood had not mutated. Was it because of the human half? What had actually happened?

The girl was somewhat troubled. Faintly, she felt that something beyond the established fate, something beyond imagination, was slowly coming into being...