Chapter 194: The Fracture of the World
In the blink of an eye, Xu Zhi already felt herself reaching her limit. Her body was so full of transcendent energy that it felt like she would burst at any moment. If she absorbed any more, she might actually die from the overload.
But she remembered the Narrator’s words—clearly.
So even though every instinct screamed that she couldn’t take any more, Xu Zhi grit her teeth and kept going, forcing herself to absorb the flood of transcendent energy.
The next instant, agony ripped through her body. She could feel the energy inside her raging like a storm, smashing through her veins, exceeding what her vessel could possibly contain. The chaotic torrent shattered the once-stable [Moth]-attribute energy that had quietly resided within her.
When that familiar [Moth] energy was scattered, the outside world seemed to fall into “vacuum” for a brief second. Then—an immense suction force surged outward, as if trying to drain every drop of energy from her body.
If she hadn’t been swollen with more power than her body could bear, she would have been instantly emptied—stripped of all transcendent energy, left powerless, a husk.
For a transcendent being, that was worse than death.
After becoming extraordinary, the body no longer functioned like a normal human’s; it was sustained by transcendent energy. Flesh, blood, and bone all relied on it. Food became optional. Energy became the only “nourishment.”
To be completely drained wasn’t like running out of energy—it meant collapse. You wouldn’t die immediately, but the pain would peel your very being apart.
And what made it worse—this world no longer held any stray transcendent energy. Unless you had pre-prepared cores, there was no way to replenish it.
For a brief, excruciating moment, Xu Zhi tasted again that familiar sensation—weakness and helplessness on the edge of death.
Then, just as suddenly, energy poured back into her like a flood. Her body revived, pulsing with new life—only for the feeling to vanish a heartbeat later as a violent shockwave ripped through the world.
Xu Zhi was at its very center.
In an instant, countless [Cup]-attribute energies tore through her, a blood-red tide flooding every cell. Her flesh began to dissolve in the overwhelming current. Her consciousness went white—then blank.
At this rate, in less than ten seconds, her body would melt completely—not from heat or wind, but because no mortal form could endure such pure, explosive power. Even her mind would be scoured clean.
She was not alone in her destruction. The world itself was unraveling.
The already-ruined land was turning to ash, fading into endless blackness. The oceans howled as they were torn apart by the storm of [Cup] energy, boiling into vapor before vanishing entirely into the dark.
High above, It and the Watcher clashed.
It, protected by the great sigil engraved upon Its body, stood untouched. This world, overflowing with [Cup] energy, even benefited It—but It dared not absorb the energy outright, fearing that doing so would drain the strength needed to breach the rift.
The Watcher, on the other hand, was faring poorly. It wasn’t truly alive—it was more akin to a mechanical program. Its vast power came from Rules themselves.
But this world had severed all connection to the outside. Now that the Rules were fractured, the Watcher’s source of power was fading. When its stored energy ran out, it would fall into deep slumber.
And worse still—the broken fabric of the Federation began to crack. The sound was like glass shattering—clear, sharp, and final. Space itself could no longer bear the weight.
Upon Its formless, featureless face, It twisted into something resembling a smile. If that could be called a face at all, it was an expression of delight.
In the pitch-black void, blood-colored energy rampaged like a caged beast, hammering and thrashing against its prison—until finally, at some unknown moment, it broke through.
A thin, blinding light pierced the darkness—a rift no wider than a finger, yet from that narrow crack spilled pure white radiance, bright enough to make the dead world glow faintly once more.
Then came Its voice—strange, warped, as though composed of multiple tones layered together, half a scream, half a whisper. Though incomprehensible in sound, every being that heard it understood Its meaning.
“Finally… it worked.”
The sigil on Its body began to spin again. The [Cup] energy saturating the world surged like a tidal wave toward the rift, cramming into it, widening the opening with every pulse.
The Watcher howled in fury. Though it lacked self-awareness, it still possessed programmed intelligence.
Driven by that directive, it unleashed the last of its energy in a single devastating strike toward It.
By now, It no longer even had a head—only a long, dark-red figure, thin and upright like a scar carved between heaven and earth.
For the first time, It resembled something almost human.
Bolts of lightning struck one after another, and though Its silhouette trembled under the barrage, It refused to fall.
Neither noticed that something else—something alive—still remained in this dying world.
Amid the torrent of [Cup] energy, as Xu Zhi’s consciousness went blank and her body neared dissolution, a faint golden light appeared within the crimson storm.
It was the gentle glow of a [Lamp].
It flickered softly within the girl’s mind, fragile yet unwavering.
Threads of pale yellow light extended from the Lamp, connecting to Xu Zhi’s body, anchoring her amid the explosion’s chaos. The cores she had absorbed were rapidly consumed, but thanks to those luminous threads, her form didn’t completely disintegrate.
Destroyed, restored, destroyed again—her flesh reformed in an endless cycle, while her mind, battered by the [Cup]’s assault, somehow held together. Her reason didn’t shatter.
If Xu Zhi had been conscious—if she could have seen her own status panel—she would have been shocked to discover that both her physical and mental attributes were skyrocketing.
It was a calamity— But also… an opportunity.
