The woman's voice was hoarse, like a blood-crowing cuckoo, with each word draining her of most of her strength.
Chen Feng lifted his head.
He looked at the miserable girl before him with a hint of interest—not for any other reason, but purely out of curiosity.
The woman was clearly off, her eyes bloodshot, yet her expression incredibly calm. Few could remain composed after such brutal treatment, pointing to just one possibility...
She had gone mad.
When a person experiences a certain setback, their nature can drastically change. Her consciousness had already collapsed.
"Can I borrow your knife?"
Chen Feng thought for a moment and tossed the boning knife over.
The woman bent down, picked up the boning knife in her hand, her face still frighteningly calm.
Was she going to commit suicide?
Chen Feng appeared indifferent; perhaps this was the choice of most people.
In the apocalypse, the most unbearable thing wasn't the ferocious monsters, but the endless despair.
Monsters swept in like an overwhelming tide, even strong professionals, over time, would be corroded by hopeless despair.
Suicide.
This was the quickest shortcut to escape suffering.
The woman had already gone mad.
If she wanted to end it all, the only way was... death!
Would she slit her throat, or clumsily sever her tendons?
Chen Feng wouldn't stop her; there were too many terrible things in the world for him to care about, and all he intended to do now was act as a spectator, nothing more.
The woman slowly raised the knife, blade forward, and placed it against her face.
"Slash..."
The sound of flesh tearing, she slashed her face, the boning knife was sharp, a slash of crimson immediately flowed down her pale skin.
One slash...
Two slashes...
The woman, like a puppet unafraid of pain, carved away at her face, and with a dozen slashes, her cheek was a bloody mess. Concurrently, with each slash, an eerie ripple emerged from her body.
Power.
Her body was undergoing some changes.
Chen Feng's curious smile gradually faded, his brows furrowed slightly as he deeply studied the woman before him, his voice low: "Extraordinary awakening?"
Most people unlocked the power of professionals at the dawn of the apocalypse, gaining abilities envied by ordinary people.
And some, after a period, either from reaching a certain limit of power or enduring a significant blow, would undergo bodily changes. People termed this phenomenon: "Extraordinary Awakening."
An extraordinary awakening was a particularly special phenomenon.
These individuals broke through their own limitations, earning the right to protect their dignity and life.
As the power spread through the woman's body, Chen Feng felt a tinge of stifling discomfort in his chest. Simultaneously, bloodshot lines surfaced in his eyes, his breathing grew heavier, his mind muddled.
An ominous aura.
These strange changes made Chen Feng cautious; despair overtook his mind. In just a few seconds, he suddenly became somewhat agitated.
In the woman, Chen Feng sensed a familiar aura.
This reminded him of a certain church.
The Church of Misfortune.
Compared to national power, some professionals formed factions or churches, recruiting masters, gaining widespread followers, quickly amassing a large organization.
The Church of Misfortune cultivated believers who perceived themselves as avatars of this misfortune, spreading disaster and pain to the world at large.
Unique.
Not only a threat to monsters, Church of Misfortune believers were equally dangerous to humans.
Their doctrine was disaster, death, and torment.
This was a church both benevolent and malevolent, targeting primarily monsters, but also human murderers and heinous criminals.
The Church of Misfortune viewed emotions, weakness, and love as entirely useless.
Emotionless monsters.
They were dangerous and lethal.
Chen Feng had encountered believers of the Church of Misfortune numerous times; these people lurked in the sinful corners, more akin to undead wandering the dark than light-leaning inquisitors who vanquished heretics in the name of justice. Misfortune believers were harsher, with blacker hearts, untainted by the Pedants' foolishness, willing to employ any method to achieve their goals.
Brief silence.
The woman beside him was entirely enveloped in despair, still carving away at her face with the boning knife. In a matter of seconds, her once fine cheek had transformed into the visage of a vengeful spirit. Beyond that, her nails began to lengthen, her complexion faded significantly, aging her by a dozen years in an instant, yet all the while her power continued to amplify.
Willpower is a force.
A strong will can even interfere with others' minds.
Even though she had just awakened, her presence was particularly imposing, especially with those vacant eyes and mutilated cheeks, creating a visual pressure on others.
Her rotting cheeks.
Chen Feng fell into reminiscence.
The Church of Misfortune had an unwritten rule: upon killing an enemy of equal rank, believers must carve a scar into their face.
A badge.
Identifying the strength of Misfortune believers was easy—steer clear of those with entirely rotted faces without an inch of intact skin; over time, they not only slew enemies but also etched their faces, the silence, each Misfortune believer bearing some form of mental illness.
A church difficult to judge as good or evil.
Misfortune?
A wild thought emerged in Chen Feng's mind, yet his expression remained unchanged.
It felt as if he had witnessed the birth of a formidable figure.
Lady Misfortune.
The leader of the Church of Misfortune, elusive and ghostly, skilled in using sharp nails to pierce enemies' skulls, and proficient in punishment and torture. She seldom appeared before others, but once she did, it heralded certain death.
Could it be Lady Misfortune?
After a series of judgments, Chen Feng was 90% sure that the extraordinary awakened woman before him would become the future figure bringing countless misfortune to both humans and monsters.
Unforgettable experiences.
Lady Misfortune held the potential to impact an epic. Her power wasn't the only admiration; her talent in forming a church incited jealousy. During the apocalyptic era, the Church of Misfortune rose and, at certain times, even eclipsed the inquisitors' prominence...
Despair was nurturing.
The long knife and disfigurement appeared as a brutal sacrifice, the woman offering her appearance and mind to the devil, receiving terrifying power and a brand new life in return.