A rare magical miracle in the world

"Tick tock, tick tock."

In the dark and damp sewers, countless bodies had been chopped into pieces and carelessly discarded.

Nobody cared about the identities of these people, nor would anyone deliberately come to such a disgusting place to investigate the cause of death.

"Squeak squeak squeak."

Swarms of rats scurried about the sewers, searching for rotting flesh and maggots.

And here, among the corpses, was one whose half-eaten face was so swollen and beyond recognition it was impossible to tell what he had looked like in life.

Yet if Iotina were here, she would undoubtedly recognize him.

This body was none other than Iotina’s father, an innocent fisherman who had been killed by the Skelot family.

He wasn’t as fortunate as Andy’s uncle, who had been saved by the Lu Wei family and taken to Yatun by Bailuo.

Although his treatment was far inferior to Iotina’s, he hadn’t been harmed by Miracle Power and, with some healing by the Tree Elves and a spell of limb magic from the witches, he would have quickly made a full recovery.

To encounter someone is to share a destiny, all the more so if saved from Yellow Spring.

Those saved by her were naturally also saved by Bailuo.

Therefore, regarding the ’Andy’ mentioned by the old man, Bailuo had given orders to the children to share his likeness with them.

Andy did no evil, being a simple, kind-hearted boy.

No matter if he possessed talent for Miracle Power, at least his character, Bailuo felt, was not an issue.

The old man and Andy risked notifying Iotina and her father to leave. Such courage, and besides, Bailuo wished to win over Iotina—she would eventually belong to Bailuo.

Given these circumstances, it was only right to repay the debts of one’s own people.

Moreover, who knew whether the tenth page miracle that sprang from the Black Leather Book was the salvation of this uncle and nephew?

Bailuo had little affection for Iotina; his considerations now were more about new miracles, about his interests.

"Glala."

All of a sudden, a very strange noise arose from the previously quiet sewers.

It sounded like someone sloshing through mud, mixed with the grating and clattering of bones, producing a ’giggling’ sound that made one’s scalp tingle.

The noise kept coming from different directions, echoing throughout the entire sewers.

"What goes around, comes around..."

"An eye for an eye, a life for a life."

Mist kept pouring into the sewers and among it, Lyon’s voice emerged gradually.

"Squeak!!!"

A rat crawling over a corpse was violently squished by a decaying bony hand.

The corpses moved, staggering up from the mud.

Opening their eyes, which were devoid of anything but the whites, was a spine-chilling sight. Their throats and chests contracted and bulged, emitting a hoarse and suppressed ’hehe’ sound.

"Child, child, child..."

The man with only half a head left made noises, struggling to mutter this word.

"Hiss ha~~ hiss ha~~"

Feeling the flow of air, it staggered towards the sewer exit, and with it, a multitude of shambling figures, akin to zombies.

·

"Trash! Trash! All trash!!"

Inside the slave market, a slave trader was furiously kicking a burly man.

The man’s arm was broken, bleeding profusely.

Yet his master still kicked him hard in his wound, with the hard sole scraping against the raw flesh, causing unimaginable agony that made the man howl in pain.

"Do you know how much money I spent on you, waste, you garbage!"

Grinding his teeth hard, the man glared at the Slave Master while his owner caught the defiant look: "You dare stare at me? Even a dog dares to stare at me?!"

"Puh!!"

In his wrath, the Slave Master pulled out his sword and stabbed it into the man’s neck.

Without resistance or last words, the man fell into a pool of blood, his life completely extinguished.

"Someone, drag him away!"

After the Slave Master spoke, the slaves who would usually rush to him were nowhere to be found, and even the entire slave market was much quieter than usual.

"Where have they all died off to?!"

The Slave Master barked discontentedly and turned around, only to find utter darkness, completely empty.

"What’s going on?"

Why was there nobody? Where had everyone gone?

The Slave Master was always guarded by strong mercenaries and gladiators; otherwise, how could he dare to beat slaves without fear of them revolting?

But now, they had disappeared.

No matter how loud he shouted or cursed, not a single person responded.

[Avenge if there is vengeance, retaliate if there is grudge!]

[Return blood with blood, life for life!]

"What’s that sound?"

"Who is speaking?!"

"Come out!!"

Never encountering such a situation before, the Slave Master shouted loudly: "Stop playing ghost, come out to me!"

"....."

Silence, as quiet as death itself.

This was the bottom of the coliseum, connected to the slave market, dark and cold.

But it should never be deserted, because with numerous traders, customers, and slaves, it couldn’t possibly become this desolate so suddenly.

"Click-clack!"

Suddenly, a clattering of bones sounded behind the Slave Master. He quickly turned around: "What’s that noise?"

For a moment, the Slave Master felt an eerie unease. He kept scanning his surroundings, eventually focusing on a corpse.

"Snap!"

"Ah!!!"

The sensation under his foot startled the Slave Master into collapsing on the ground. Gasping for breath, with a look of disbelief, he stared at the writhing figure in the pool of blood.

"I, don’t want to die..."

From the man’s pierced wound, maggots crawled out in abundance, and eerie eyes opened on his exposed flesh, turning continuously: "Why did you kill me?"

"Crack! Crack! Crack!"

Bones broke, and one sharp bone spike after another pierced through the twisted corpse, forming a skeletal frame.

And from where the arm had been severed, three twisted, pitch-black limbs grew out, a ghastly sight to behold.

What is this?

What is this?!

As the figure stood up from the darkness, its head tucked at its waist, the Slave Master felt his worldview turned upside down.

The person had died; he had killed them with his own hands.

Why would they stand back up?!

"Drugs, has someone drugged me? When? What kind of drugs?"

The Slave Master kept kicking, trying to push away the other’s arms.

Illusion!

It must be an illusion!

It has to be an illusion!

"Whoosh!"

However, before the Slave Master could calm down, the headless man’s three arms had already grabbed his abdomen and ankles and dragged him into midair.

"Pfft!"

The severed right leg fell to the ground, blood splattering.

"Ah!!!"

Without any explanation or threats, amidst the Slave Master’s heart-wrenching screams, the headless man very simply and forcibly tore off his right leg.

"Bang!"

With one foot, the headless man stomped on the Slave Master’s wound, just as he had once done to others.

"Ah!!! Please, I beg you, spare me!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Unfortunately, the headless man seemed completely unable to comprehend human speech, maintaining rhythm as he stomped again and again on the Slave Master’s wound, grinding it into mincemeat.

Logically, with such intense pain and torture, the Slave Master should have passed out by now.

But he was very conscious, extremely conscious, conscious enough to watch the headless man, having finished with the severed leg, lift his foot again, and then break his other leg.

Both legs, certain organs, intestines, spine, chest, neck, until the very last, the head.

"Crack!"

On the ground, there remained only a puddle of indistinct flesh and blood.

"Not enough."

The headless man growled, "Still not enough!!"

More, he needed more.

"Where?"

The headless man’s three arms took hold of a nearby greatsword, three of them.

And so, a headless corpse covered in blood and rotten flesh, one hand holding its own head, while the other three arms supported three greatswords, methodically walked towards the door of the slave market.

"Help!!"

"Monster! Monster!"

"Don’t kill me!"

"I’ll give you money, please, I beg you, spare me, spare me!"

"......."

At this moment, everyone in the slave market had plunged into their own nightmares.

This was Lyon’s ability, within his domain, he had established tens of thousands of dreamspace areas, each person had their own area, to endure the judgement they deserved.

Whether evil or good, all would fall into the Blood Moon Dreamland.

Of course, if they were good people, all they had to do was to shut their doors tightly, and the monsters in the nightmares would not be able to break in arbitrarily, nor would there be any Contaminated Species, hating them, coming to take revenge after transforming from corpses.

"It’s begun, huh."

Inya stood against the wind up high, with Alaya beside her, the Blindfolded Holy Woman of Yatun said, "Remember our task, Inya."

"I know!"

Perhaps due to her matured appearance, Inya seemed to have matured a bit as well, "But it seems like no one’s worth saving."

The task of the Blood Moon Hunters was not to purify the contamination, but to stop the rampaging Contaminated Species, to eliminate them.

[Revenge for grievances, retribution for wrongs]

Just like the headless man, who had exacted his revenge on his enemies.

But the Contaminated Species had no reason; they were not the living resurrected, but merely animate corpses, without ’soul’ or ’self’.

The real headless man, as well as Iotina’s father, had long passed away.

What remained here were merely walking undead, driven by hatred and obsession.

"There will be some, don’t worry."

Alaya activated her perception ability, surveilling the entire city, "If you have time, you can look for that child named Andy."

Searching for Andy was everyone’s task, not just Alaya’s and Inya’s.

"Boring!"

Inya snorted disdainfully, "But since it’s big brother’s request, there’s nothing to be done."

"......."

Alaya looked at Inya with a hint of surprise, smiling and saying, "Are you imitating Feiya?"

"Does it sound like her?"

"Ah, our Inya has grown up, looking pretty dashing, huh."

However, Inya did not react with the usual laughter, instead, she continued to emulate her senior sister. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

There was no helping it, as Alaya said, to Inya, ’dashing’ was synonymous with ’sister’.

Now that she had appearance as a foundation, Inya naturally had to relish the feeling of being looked up to.

’Even Sister Alaya has been fooled by me,’ Inya thought, feeling extremely proud, ’Indeed, I, Lady Inya, am super strong!’

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, Alaya sensed something and said to Inya, "I have detected someone innocent, Inya, come with me."

Enjoy new tales from empire

"Finally, a chance to get moving," Inya eagerly followed, "Let me take action later, Sister Alaya!"