Many things happen without warning,

just like turbulence and collapse, like disasters and death.

Even if there were many subtle clues to alert us beforehand, no one could know how these spreading traces would aggregate and coil into an exaggerated disaster bud deep under the Ninth Land.

How effective could repeated eradication and vigilance, repeated scrutiny and consideration, truly be?

And when it finally broke through the soil, when the floods swept over the dam, when torrential rain poured from the sky, and when tsunamis ravaged, there remained nothing but passive responses beyond the scant preparations.

Just like this moment.

Ten minutes before the anomaly in Spring City.

A burst of firelight erupted from the wilderness outside the outpost, shooting into the sky.

The association's construction site.

The harsh alarm, along with the destruction of circuits, abruptly halted. In the vast construction site, giant equipment, towering like high towers and extending into the sky, emitted dazzling electrical lights. Countless spiritual materials scattered and streamed from within, dyeing the pitch-black night sky into a nauseating splendor among the explosions and chaos.

What followed was a pollution more terrifying than anything within Spring City.

In the original material storage, huge storage tanks, unknowingly brought in, now triggered a chain of explosions. A vast amount of contaminated and Mutant Dust from the Recovery Department rose into the sky among the storm, instantly transforming the whole construction site into a Demon Realm.

Day and night, countless craftsmen and apprentices had painstakingly extracted and stripped away the pollution, only for it to be dumped back onto everyone's heads in such a form.

Mutants sprouted like bamboo shoots after a rain, from the ground, from the walls and pipelines, from every inch of air, while fleeting Illusions continuously appeared, and one by one, anguished figures crawled out from the mud and bloody water.

Just a few seconds ago, everything was continuing as normal, everyone working methodically, hurrying the emergency construction. But within a few moments, everything had completely changed.

On the flesh-transmuted broken tower above, bizarre eyeballs opened, overlooking everything.

Once a perfectly normal, albeit slightly complex, overall design, now under the Erosion of mutation, showed no resistance, as if it were naturally meant to be this way, inevitably falling into its current state.

With a great amount of Spiritual Circuits being dismantled and reconnected, everything rapidly changed beyond recognition.

It's like adding a few strokes on an ancient scroll of landscape, sprinkling filthy ink marks, then suddenly transforming from beautiful scenery to Hell's muddy plow.

After stripping away the disguise, the malice hidden in the design from the beginning revealed itself, showing a sinister face that even the creator hadn't anticipated.

Gruesome laughter.

Mournful cries filled the air, screams and sobs incessant.

In the spreading smoke and pollution, survivors struggled desperately.

"What the hell? What's going on? Exactly… what happened?"

After the initial shock and erosion of pollution, apprentices and craftsmen lucky enough to survive the explosion's core struggled awkwardly, still trying to call for help.

But the clever ones, after a moment of chaos, hid their presence, concealed and fled without looking back.

It does not chill overnight.

With Rome of utmost evil now established, facing the brutal sight before one's eyes, it's better not to think about turning the tide, preserving life must come first.

Whether it's an insider, a trap, or just a pawn in a larger game…

— the association, the Security Bureau, can no longer be trusted!

"Teacher, save me, save me… Teacher, Teacher…"

From behind a door, cries emerged from the sea of fire.

Master Zhou struggled awkwardly, pulling himself up with a steel bar, staring blankly at this brutal sight, expressionless. He watched in the flames as his student slowly burned, and numerous tentacles and many other mutated organs emerged from their body.

For a moment, Zhou Chong opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But from the smoke and burning, he could not make a sound, he raised his broken arm, his remaining fingers pointing towards his student's face.

The voice stopped abruptly.

In the flames, the corpses struggled no more, returning to Dust.

In the swirling smoke, murky tears mixed with blood streaked down his face, indistinguishable how much was truly sorrow…

He turned his head away, pushing himself up, staggering out of the fire scene, opening his mouth, silently roaring, screaming, cursing, as if his voice had been burned away by the flames, along with his white hair.

Until he finally burst out of the broken temporary workshop, stumbling, and in his panting breath, he saw a figure standing in the center of the construction site.

Not a hint of disarray or injury, patchy short hair slightly moving in the scorching wind.

As if she had been waiting for a long time.

She turned and scrutinized.

"Hmm?"

Her eyes slightly raised as she looked over, "You actually survived?"

In that moment, Zhou Chong saw her indifferent expression, then looked at the craftsmen and apprentices at her feet, barely alive, not holding back anymore, his eyes bloodshot.

"Ye Xian!!!"

Zhou Chong's face twitched, "Have you gone mad! Even… Even if you hold a grudge against me, what about the others…"

From his roaring and accusing, Ye Xian withdrew her gaze indifferently, uninterested.

"I overthought."

She sighed with regret, "I thought it was a case of 'a scholar making drastic changes,' I underestimated the heroes of the world. It seems, Master Zhou, with your courage and capacity, you prefer to squat in your little three acres, squeezing apprentices to your heart's content, indeed lacking the guts to oppose the association and the Security Bureau…"

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