Chapter 109
That aura did not smell rotten like a corpse decaying beneath the scorching sun, nor metallic like fresh blood spilling from a gaping wound, nor sweet like flowers blooming in the middle of an ancient graveyard.
Instead, it smelled like life itself—like soil after the first rainfall of the dry season, like freshly cut grass in the morning, like warm and comforting mother's milk, a scent that caused The Silent One, standing in the distance with his dark blazing eyes, to feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise for the first time in this battle.
Not out of fear, because the God of the Vast Cosmos did not understand fear, but because he could sense that aura, that slime, that living flesh was part of the Cancer plague which, thousands of years ago—when he was still whole as the guardian God of the Gods and Goddesses, when he still possessed a body he could fully control—had once made him swear to eradicate every fragment of that plague whenever he encountered it.
"Impossible," whispered The Silent One. His voice was no longer gentle like when he spoke about the breath that stopped time, no longer broken and trembling like when he saw Ling Xu still capable of moving despite time being frozen, but hoarse and rough, like someone who had just awakened from a nightmare that lasted far too long, like someone seeing the ghost of their past standing before them after many years, believing that ghost had long since died, vanished, and turned into dust scattered by the wind.
"You… you truly released the nature of the Cancer plague? You truly allowed that flesh to crawl through your veins, your arteries, the very foundation of your cultivation? Do you know the risks, Ling Xu? Do you know that if you lose control, if you allow that plague to completely consume you, there will be no return? You will become a monster, Ling Xu. A monster without consciousness, without emotion, without anything except an insatiable hunger that can never be satisfied, one that will devour everything—friend, enemy, the people you love, the people who hate you—everything will become flesh within its stomach. Nothing will remain. No one will survive. There will be nothing left for you to recognize because you yourself will no longer exist."
But Ling Xu did not listen to The Silent One's warning—or perhaps she did, yet simply did not care, because to her, nothing was more terrifying than losing Huan Zheng, nothing more horrifying than allowing the lazy man who had died eleven times for her to lie helpless on the ground while she could do nothing, nothing more painful than standing still while time froze, enemies approached, and death lurked from every corner.
And with complete awareness, with determination that nothing could shake, she allowed the Cancer plague within her to flow, allowed that aura, slime, and living flesh to envelop the entirety of her cultivation foundation.
Beginning from the Lower Star, where she first learned that the world was cruel and no one would save her except herself.
The Common Star, where she killed for the first time and felt enemy blood soaking her still-trembling hands.
The Singular Star, where she learned that power did not always mean happiness.
The Supernatural Star, where she nearly died once again, only to rise because she still had vengeance left unfinished.
Then the Heavenly Longitude, from Bright Sky to Anti-Star, where she perfected every trace, every Longitude, every crystal seized from the corpses of enemies that were never enough to make her feel safe.
Then the Vast Cosmos, from one crystal to ten, where she died and returned to life in an endless cycle, where she learned that death was not an ending, but the beginning of something new, something stronger, something more horrifying than anything she had ever imagined.
And finally, the Supreme Dao, from Seed to Dew, where she transformed into something that could no longer be called Goddess, human, or cultivator, but something else entirely, something in between, something without a name because names were shackles, and she had already cast aside every chain that had once bound her, except for one—her hatred toward those who murdered her mother, and her love for the man who had become her home.
"All of those foundations, Ling Xu," said the Cancer plague Consciousness. Its voice was no longer soft like when it whispered about her nature, no longer rough like when it warned her about becoming a monster, but proud—deeply proud—like a teacher watching their favorite student graduate with the highest honors, like a father escorting his child toward the altar on their wedding day.
"Everything you have built over the years—from the Lower Star to the Dew of the Supreme Dao—has now been coated by the flesh of the Cancer plague. Nothing can penetrate this layer, Ling Xu. Nothing can destroy it. Nothing can freeze it, because this flesh is part of a plague older than time, older than concepts, older than The Silent One's brief and deadly breath. Now move, Ling Xu. Attack. Kill. Do what you must, because nothing can stop you anymore—not The Silent One, not the soul of the God of the Vast Cosmos, not all the Gods and Goddesses who once ruled this infinite universe."
Amid the vortex of living flesh still pulsating around Ling Xu's body—among the aura of the Cancer plague beginning to creep across the floor, crawling over the remaining walls, devouring dust, ash, and rubble like a rising tide that never recedes—The Silent One moved his fingers.
Not with the slow and deliberate movements from before, but with a haste he had never previously shown, as though trying to finish something before it was too late, before that flesh reached him, before the Cancer plague that once made him swear to exterminate every fragment of it finally devoured him alive.
And from the tips of his pale and slender fingers, light began to emerge—not golden light like when he summoned the physical nature of The Singer, not grayish-green light like the Cancer plague dwelling within Ling Xu, not dim light woven from rumors whispered throughout marketplaces, but empty light, light born from nothingness, light that slowly swallowed the colors surrounding it like a canvas about to be painted for the very first time, like a blank page untouched by pen, ink, or imagination, like the world before the word "existence" had been discovered by the first being bold enough to name reality.
"Do you see that, Ling Xu?" whispered the Cancer plague Consciousness within Ling Xu's mind. Its voice was no longer proud like when it witnessed the completion of her transformation, no longer gentle like when it whispered about her nature, but alert and sharp, like a guard spotting suspicious movement within the darkness.
"The Silent One is not merely stopping time—he is altering the structure of reality itself. He is emptying the space around us, Ling Xu. He is creating a blank canvas, exactly like the moment the narrative of this novel—Cultivation Wheel: The Last Descendant of the Reincarnator—was first about to be written."
To be continued…