Chapter 144 You Are Going to Die

As top-tier psionic cultivators, the reincarnators made a remarkably accurate judgment.

If this dragged on, the outcome would inevitably be a victory for Old Devil Lan.

The reason was quite simple.

All Lan Yi needed to do was buy time until his Dao-integration and emergency descent, at which point the Face of Ghost—which was being forced into Dao-integration by the Conquest Space—would directly vanish. From the perspective of ordinary people, it would disappear, but in reality, its material substrate would dissolve, and its high-dimensional structure would be absorbed and assimilated by the high-dimensional computer, thereby rendering the Heavenly Dao of this world even more complete.

The Face of Ghost space roamed across numerous supernatural worlds.

Its knowledge and experience would benefit the future of Artificial Deity Realm 2055.

As a seasoned transmigrator,

could the Face of Ghost possibly be unaware of the Dao-integration trial awaiting it?

Of course it was aware, which was why it needed to take down Lan Yi as quickly as possible. Only by defeating Lan Yi would it have the capital to continue fleeing. The intense quantum fluctuations (life information) carried by Lan Yi meant that even if he were to drop dead on the spot, his soul could still transmigrate and be reborn in another artificial deity realm, allowing the Face of Ghost to leverage this channel for a comeback.

Well, assuming such a possibility existed.

It would roughly play out like Old Devil Lan carrying a Main God Space with him as he ventured into otherworldly realms.

Of course, that possibility was practically zero!

Nuclear detonations! The ceaseless roaring of nuclear blasts!!

At this moment, Lan Yi was recklessly hurling nuclear bombs from his Dao-art spaces, averaging ten detonations per second. His behavior could only be described as utterly frantic, practically intent on plunging this future era into a nuclear winter and turning the land beneath his feet into a radioactive wasteland for ten thousand years to come!

Observed from outer space,

the entire sky above East Continent was densely dotted with glowing blisters, resembling a planet breaking out in pustules.

As for the conditions within that spatial zone, it was an extreme purgatory. Temperatures ranging from tens to hundreds of thousands of degrees raged everywhere, while radiation fierce enough to instantly slaughter Qi-refining martial artists swept back and forth through the dust. Sonic boom shockwaves, acting like invisible sheets of steel, swept horizontally across a ten-kilometer radius with enough force to tear apart the armor of a battleship!

Although not orthodox Northern Demonic sect Dao-arts, Lan Yi's continuous barrage achieved virtually the same effect. He had directly transformed the battlefield into a purgatory and placed himself squarely within this inferno to battle the Face of Ghost.

Yet this purgatory-like environment

could do nothing to either of the two powerhouses.

Whether it was Old Devil Lan stepping out from the nuclear explosions or the Face of Ghost undergoing its emergency descent, both possessed methods to preserve themselves amidst the unending chain of nuclear blasts, maintain their combat effectiveness, and wait for an opening.

Amidst the burning atmosphere,

layer upon layer of invisible psionic rings remained tightly clustered within a kilometer of Lan Yi's body.

These were the attacks of the Face of Ghost.

It was neither a Dao-art nor martial arts, but the most fundamental particle attack—pushing its precision control to the absolute limit to form quasi-intelligent particles, executing precision strikes on a microscopic scale. Under this technique, all of Lan Yi's externalized Dao-arts, except those released directly from his Dao-art spaces, would be neutralized and rendered ineffective.

The strike effect of these high-energy particles was not limited to dismantling Dao-arts;

it could also obliterate physical bodies.

At this moment, moving at twice the speed of sound, Lan Yi's body was riddled with holes, resembling a futuristic combat robot. Large patches of torn [Canghua] rippled faintly around his wounds, and the bright, shimmering psionic radiance leaked out like spilled engine oil. Beneath the wounds was not flesh and blood, but pitch-black voids—each one being a Dao-art space embedded directly into his flesh.

Over the span of half an hour,

Lan Yi and the Face of Ghost had exchanged tens of thousands of blows.

In those tens of thousands of clashes, he suffered crippling suppression of his cultivation realm. The Face of Ghost's Myriad Things Vitality Lock and Dao-art Disintegration stripped away Lan Yi's Dao-art deployment and upper limits, forcing him to rely entirely on his Dao-art spaces to maneuver.

Naturally, the Face of Ghost was faring no better.

The mystic thunder shields, Tsar Bomba, and plasma cannons condensed within the Dao-art spaces were capable of micron-level precision strikes and releases within a five-kilometer radius. Twice, it had been nearly blasted away into oblivion by Old Devil Lan. Wielding divine thunder and miniature suns, Lan Yi was a veritable demon god; a single direct hit on the winged Face of Ghost could send it plummeting straight down from the high heavens.

The spiritual body structure of the Face of Ghost had already begun to fracture.

Its obsession had indeed sustained injuries under the saturated Dao-art bombardment, though most of the damage came from simply being infuriated by Lan Yi.

That was right—infuriated!

'Die! You ant! You wretched spawn!'

'Why won't you just die?! Hahahaha, you must be terrified! I'll make you wish you were dead!'

'The eighteen layers of hell await you!'

Its ghostly transformation had reached nearly sixty percent. Amidst the burning, nuclear-scorched atmosphere, Lan Yi was as slippery as an eel, darting in every now and then to take a bite out of it. This had become increasingly unacceptable to the entity; its negative emotions began to accumulate and erupt, and a dense light of the mind (spiritual will) polluted the heavens and earth like spilled ink.

The angrier the Face of Ghost became, the more ghost-like it grew; the more ghost-like it grew, the easier it was for it to injure itself out of sheer rage. Truly a bizarre spectacle.

The restrictions on ghosts were simply too immense.

If one could be human, one should never become a ghost. The Face of Ghost had been miserably screwed over by the inherent traits of a spiritual entity!

At a fifty-kilometer scale,

the mutual slaughter between Lan Yi and the Face of Ghost had reached a white-hot intensity. Virtually every single second saw attacks landing on the opponent's body, only to be neutralized or forcefully endured.

The damage rate of Lan Yi's outer skin had already exceeded forty percent. The woven skin of [Canghua] could no longer cover him entirely, exposing the heavily modified physique beneath. Many of his Dao-art spaces had broken away from their original fixed forms, gradually morphing into the shape of black spheres.

The Face of Ghost had taken a direct, true-damage hit from a mystic thunder shield that sheared away over half its head, while its lower body looked as though it had been crushed by a pair of hotdog tongs. This was the damage inflicted when Lan Yi suddenly took a risk at close range, using Gengjin Sword Qi to trigger a plasma cannon—and indeed, one could accurately say it had been crushed to bits.

Remarkable.

To be able to push Old Devil Lan to such an extent,

the Face of Ghost had truly performed to its absolute limit. It had locked his blue bar, locked his skills, and nearly locked his attacks outright. If any other psionic cultivator had been greeted in this manner, even if they survived, they would most likely have abandoned their duty of interception and fled for their lives. But the opponent it encountered was Lan Yi. The morning glow in Lan Yi's eyes flickered in and out of existence, but he resolutely pushed them all away.

Perhaps I, Lan Yi, might die one day.

But it will definitely not be today, nor now, and certainly not by your hand!

Lan Yi's arrogant and fearless gaze pierced through layers of obstacles.

The Face of Ghost, stared down by such an intensely externalized emotion, suddenly regained its composure and hovered in mid-air.

The two figures stood in a standoff across a straight-line distance of 53,600 meters.

Amidst the nuclear-blasted, burning atmosphere, the two silhouettes stood like demon gods caught in a momentary lull during a primal clash at the dawn of chaos, inspiring awe in all who beheld them!

"You are going to die," Lan Yi took the initiative to speak.

The Face of Ghost's progress toward Dao-integration had reached ninety percent.

For the final ten percent, the speed would be nothing short of a collapse.

"Ant, I cannot die," the Face of Ghost transmitted its voice coldly. "And you—before I achieve Dao-integration, you are the one who will truly die. All your possibilities have been calculated by me. The next move: I attack, you defend. The outcome will be: death!"