In the study, Murphy’s thick eyelashes fluttered gently. A satisfied smile played upon his lips. Suddenly, a surge of power originating from his bloodline descended from the depths of his soul. Within Murphy’s sea of consciousness, waves manifested from magical power rose high, crashing against the barriers in a rhythmic, exhilarating fashion. Each wave rolled higher than the last. A pure gold gemstone floated like a small boat on the sea, carrying the light of the blood contract. No matter how high the waves rose in his consciousness, the area where that cobalt-blue ball of light resided remained forever calm and secure.
The sound of the waves spread to the deepest part of his soul. A massive force finally tore away a certain barrier, and a pure purple ocean surged, seemingly bringing something back.
Murphy’s eyes darkened. A purple glow slowly emerged on his forehead, and a symbol-like pupil rotated from within before vanishing in the next second. Murphy’s hand slipped from the armrest. He had truly fallen asleep.
The man’s consciousness and soul were lifted high. Enveloped by the power of his bloodline, his soul seemed to be undergoing a transformation. First, Murphy saw wars between ancient races. Great dragons roared, using dragon fire to destroy city walls, while the gnomes below directed their creations to encircle and kill solitary celestials. Fighting and bloody battles ensued; blood feuds caused all races to slaughter one another. Amidst such combat, a figure that blotted out the sun suddenly covered the battlefield with moth wings. All the soldiers stared blankly at this scene, their weapons falling to the ground.
They saw the Fate Race emerging from spatial rifts. They were massive and tall, with varied and bizarrely beautiful appearances, radiating divine light of many colors. The moment they appeared, they suppressed all the races present.
In their shadows, servants of the Fate Race whispered and giggled.
The bloody battles between the major races ceased, replaced by a desperate alliance to resist the Fate Race’s assault. But such fighting was meaningless, for while the main gods of the various races were discussing matters, their own kin suddenly struck, dealing fatal blows to their gods from behind.
The head of the Celestial Race had his head crushed. The Demon Race’s head deity counterattacked in time but was besieged by their own allies. Many races quickly realized that something was wrong. A horrifying fact finally emerged:
Those deities who had backstabbed their leaders and betrayed their races shed their disguises and returned to their true forms.
As they watched this, they finally learned what the innate talent of the Fate Race was.
It was the ability to absorb the bloodline of another race from the inside out to create a clone of that race, and that clone could wield the original race’s innate talents.
These clones fed their talent power back to the original body. Even if a clone was destroyed, the Fate Race could create new ones. The most terrifying aspects, such as the distortion, corruption, and backlash caused by possessing others’ bodies, the difficulty of fusing other races’ talents, the flaws in the soul’s Fate Marks, and the cost of possession, were almost negligible to the Fate Race.
They disguised themselves as other races, infiltrated them, and engineered large-scale divisions and disasters while their true bodies grew increasingly powerful. Under this trend, the Fate Race finally became the overlords who ruled everything. They received their coronation and became the rulers of the entire continent.
The worship and kneeling of all races, the crowns bestowed by the world’s consciousness, the rulers of the Elemental Land—all of this seemed vivid, yet like a passing illusion of yesterday, it vanished in an instant.
The only reason an invincible race would be destroyed was self-destruction.
Murphy watched this scene. He looked at the Fate Race as if he were looking at his own kin, as if he were being called by some force. Murphy felt a light power flowing into him, causing his body to soar. When Murphy came to his senses, he found himself flapping his wings, the crown atop his head emitting a brilliant purple radiance. He had transformed into his true form: a beautiful Fate Moth.
A magnificent palace appeared in the air. Murphy heard a buzzing sound coming from afar. Lanterns were approaching from the distance, lighting up the pitch-black abyss like stars.
Moths carried lanterns with their claws as they flew from the depths of the darkness. Some were golden-bodied with crowns atop their heads emitting a bright, warm luster; as the scales on their bodies drifted down, they glowed with radiant gold. Others had large, thin wings, pure and white as a rising moon. When the fuzzy moths flew by, the scales falling from their bodies guided their companions forward. Murphy watched this scene. For some reason, his divine sense naturally manifested a purple-gold lantern. His fuzzy body squeezed into the swarm of moths, buzzing along with the surrounding creatures. When he flew to the temple, the crown on Murphy’s head flashed, and he landed at the Fate Race’s ancestral land carrying the lantern. At that moment, he saw dozens of moths landing on top of the lantern, as if they had brought a small seat for themselves, squatting on it and flapping their wings.
Was this his race? His people?
Murphy’s divine thought paused. The sound of his wing-flapping ceased. All the scenes before him dissipated into past memories, and the image of the moths gathered together turned into phantoms. In the vast temple, Murphy alone landed on the lantern, while the other seats had remained empty for ten thousand years.
In the empty temple, Murphy suddenly heard a strange buzzing sound. Before he could recover from the loneliness, he saw a moth that was entirely silvery-white fly out. Its figure was light and slender, its fuzz resembling snowy cotton, evoking thoughts of softness and fluffiness.
A moth much larger than Murphy, yet more slender in form, landed before him, staring at him with pink pupils.
One second. Two seconds.
The two large moths stared blankly at each other. A moment later, the silvery-white moth transformed into human form. Its overly massive figure seemed to hold up a high wall within the temple. A Fate Race deity, wearing a crown and possessing a perfect face, stood before Murphy. The deity’s face melted layer by layer like wax, and within one face, a second face appeared, then a third, and a fourth.
And those faces were all staring at Murphy. Every face of the Chaos God possessed the characteristics, expressions, and temperaments of different races.
The deity reshaped its first face and said, “What? Silent? Have you been struck dumb?”
Murphy stood before him, looking extremely vigilant.
Seeing this, the deity sneered. Murphy suddenly perceived a hint of threat from him. The deity merely blew a light breath, and Murphy felt as if he were clay or a pebble in the deity’s hand, about to be crushed into ash by divine might. But that immense power vanished into nothing at the last moment. Seeing this, a comical smile appeared on the Chaos God’s face. He said as if joking:
“You are very lucky. I have been dead for ten thousand years, unable to possess you, unable to kill you, and unable to plunder your bloodline. Therefore, I will grant you the inheritance of our race and guide you to the ruins of the Fate Race.”
“Be happy, Murphy,” he said lightly. Murphy tilted his head slowly. Facing the threat the Chaos God had just posed, Murphy actually kept a faint smile on his face. He asked, “You know my name?”
“Of course I know your origins.” A look of reminiscence appeared on the Chaos God’s face. His eyes, as he looked at Murphy, were half-filled with hatred and half-filled with an uncontrollable sigh.
He said, “You are Murphy, the only solution that must inevitably occur and be born, and you are also a catastrophe and an error that will absolutely exist.”
“You are the error born from the disaster brought about by the Fate Race’s self-destruction, and you are the dead end for all other races. You are destined to become the most powerful and complete Fate Race member, because the bloodline within you is the most complete and pure bloodline of all.”
After hearing these words, Murphy said, “That is great.”
The Chaos God took one look at him and knew what kind of character he had. He said, “Let’s go, Murphy. Let me guide you to awaken your bloodline. This is the inheritance that all Fate Race members accept. Every member can create their own clone, and that clone can only be released from the sea of consciousness when you advance to the rank of Archmage.”
“This process is the process of splitting the soul,” the Chaos God said. Murphy’s eyes flickered, “This is not possessing other races?”
“Of course not. The drawbacks of possession cause soul contamination. Our ability is to nurture a new body by absorbing the bloodlines and talents of other races, replicating everything about them,” the Chaos God explained. His face suddenly changed, and an Elf with long, pointed ears appeared before Murphy. His temperament, appearance, and the aura emanating from his soul were that of a flawless Elf, even more pure than the Dark Elves Murphy knew.
A gemstone appeared in his hand. The Chaos God tapped it lightly with his fingertip, and the gemstone split and was reshaped in his hand, being carved with new magical energy circuits. This had always been the Elf race’s unique ability: gemstone carving, affinity with natural forces, and innate archery talent.
“Elf Race, Demon Race, Celestial Race.” The Chaos God’s appearance changed repeatedly, showing the faces of different races and demonstrating different talents. As a Celestial pulled in its wings, he said, “Clones from other races return their abilities to the original body upon merging, and their power becomes the original body’s power.”
“This is not possession, but replication and disguise,” the Chaos God said. “The stronger your innate talent power, the more clones you can have, and the purer the abilities you can replicate.”
“But this miraculous power still has its own limitations,” the Chaos God said. “One: The original body is unique. If your original body dies, the other clones must also die. Two: Your own talent power determines the upper limit of what you can replicate. If my first clone can replicate one hundred percent, then my second clone will inevitably have flaws.”
“Three: In the process of splitting the soul to create a clone, if you fail, the Fate Moth will die, and everything will end there.” Having said this, a playful smile appeared on the Chaos God’s face: “Do you want to try it now?”
“So, every process of creating a clone is an adventure and a gamble,” Murphy said. “What if I do not create a clone?”
“Oh, that is unnecessary, because the first clone you nurture is guaranteed to succeed,” the Chaos God said. “Therefore, your first choice of clone is very, very important.” But he did not elaborate, nor did he explain the immense pain and torture one would endure during the soul-splitting process. In his words, this was the unavoidable path for all Fate Moths.
“My first clone was a Celestial,” the Chaos God smiled. This time, his smile was very gentle, but there was another reason for this gentleness: “The healing and time powers of the Celestial Race are very useful.”
Murphy’s eyes flickered. They reached the deepest part of the Inheritance Hall. Doors engraved with the shapes of moths opened one after another. Behind the doors, the bloodlines of extinct races—those that had vanished from the Elemental Land and were destroyed during the Divine War—vaguely manifested. The overwhelming pressure and the interweaving of bloodline powers made Murphy feel breathless.
But what followed was an uncontrollable excitement. Murphy soon calmed down, however, because amidst the envelopment of these bloodline powers, he saw not only other races but also the bloodline power symbolizing the Fate Race.
A doubt that had arisen just now made Murphy step back slowly. He said, “Even the bloodline of the Fate Race itself can be replicated?”
“No,” as if he were talking about a trivial, amusing matter, with a trace of malice and teasing, the Chaos God said, “Of course we cannot replicate our own power, but we can devour the bloodline power of our own kind to make our talent purer.”
“Otherwise, why do you think the Fate Race went extinct? Where do you think you were born from, and where did you come from?”
“Let me tell you some good news, Murphy.” The Chaos God’s faces emerged one after another. He looked at Murphy and said, “All the clones you create will not become turbid due to the attenuation of talent power. Every clone and every replication of yours will be one hundred percent perfect.”
Murphy frowned slightly. He was not overjoyed, but within a very short moment, he realized the abnormality behind this perfection.
But the man did not pursue the question; he was very smart.
“I can accept the inheritance now and obtain my first clone?” Murphy asked.
The Chaos God shrugged: “I don’t care, do as you please.”
His snowy-white long hair draped onto the ground, leaving Murphy pacing back and forth in the Inheritance Land. The Chaos God said, “The first clone usually takes shape at the Archmage stage. Of course, the Fate Race is at the Magic Venerate stage at birth and Archmage upon adulthood. They can nurture clones directly in their ancestral lands, but you have to rely on yourself.”
“You need some samples and data, as well as test subjects of the race you choose.” As the Chaos God’s shadow swept across the walls, the ripples it caused were enough to twist a city. He said with a laugh, “The bodies of Celestials and Demons are relatively difficult to obtain; they place great importance on their own bloodlines. The Dragon Race clones are the most massive; you’d better prepare a nest in advance. The Terra God race has a cluster consciousness; you can steal their inheritance. As for the Elf Race…” The Chaos God laughed: “The Elf Race will turn into Dark Elves after falling, but you can convert between these two forms.”
“Dark Elves are very interesting,” the Chaos God said. “Your partner will be very satisfied.”
Murphy’s thought process paused. He turned his head, and the Chaos God’s image was reflected in his purple eyes. Murphy said coldly, “I am not interested in these things.”
“I will not have a partner either. That is just a useless burden,” Murphy said.
Upon hearing his words, the Chaos God, who had been acting in a business-like, bored manner, slowly turned his head. His head actually rotated around; several faces looked at Murphy simultaneously.
A look of suspicion appeared on his faces, as if he had heard some incredible joke.
“You have no partner?” The Chaos God heard his words and, as if finding it very interesting, laughed from the bottom of his heart, causing the entire temple to shake in his laughter. The space and time around him shattered due to this laughter, turning into countless rifts.
He shook his head, laughing so hard that he bent over and covered his face: “My god, how long have you been away from the ancestral land that you don’t even know about such things?”
“What do you mean?”
The Chaos God lifted his face, his finger tapped lightly, and the scene within Murphy’s sea of consciousness appeared before them. The gemstone was still swaying, carrying the blood contract. The Chaos God looked at that blood contract, and as Murphy watched this scene, the expression on his face slowly changed.
“Don’t you already have a marriage contract with another person, or even a master-servant contract?” The Chaos God said: “It seems you are having a lot of fun with your partner.” His meaningful words made the expression on Murphy’s face freeze. The next second, he said, “Marriage contract?”
“Isn’t that a blood contract?” Murphy said.
“Oh, this is truly rare,” the Chaos God said. “Perhaps I am blind to have mistaken the marriage contract of a Fate Moth and his partner for a blood contract.” He closed the scene before him and continued, “The blood contract itself is derived from the marriage contract of the Chaos Moth. Our marriage contract is more powerful than the blood contract.” Having said this, the Chaos God couldn’t help but laugh: “So, the things you just said to me—were you playing some kind of game with your wife?”
Murphy fell into deep thought. In fact, it was only today that he realized the existence of a marriage contract—in this way, that young nobleman’s claim gained a sliver of credibility.
“It was you who pounced on me, bit me, forced me to sign a blood contract, and even signed a master-servant contract with me!” Su Feng pointed at his nose and scolded, “How was I supposed to know what kind of madness you were having? And you still want to shift the blame? Let me tell you, keep dreaming!”
That young master’s cheeks were flushed with anger, his eyes shining as he looked at him, filled with fury: “Stay here properly and be your personal manservant!”
Murphy took a deep breath.
As a human, Su Feng could not possibly have signed a marriage contract that only Fate Moths could sign.
Therefore, what actually happened that day was indeed as Su Feng said. Murphy felt no surprise at this; after all, he knew what kind of creature he was. But the one problem he was confused about was why he himself would do such a thing.
Strange.
Murphy suppressed this doubt in his heart. He suddenly laughed again because he thought Su Feng was cute.
Although angry and furious, Su Feng hadn’t actually done anything to Murphy from beginning to end. That young master seemed to be obedient to the core.
Thinking of Su Feng’s appearance, the smile on Murphy’s face became more genuine. The Chaos God asked, “Have you chosen?”
Murphy’s gaze swept across the bloodlines before him. The Celestials and Demons were too far away; it was not the ancient era, and those high and mighty ancient races would not easily reveal their traces. Murphy did not consider the Beast Race; Gnomes and Dwarves were not his first choice. Sirens and Elves each had their flaws; after all, the synonym for the Elf race had almost become “Dark Elf.” The Terra God race served the God of Fate and had resided in the God of Fate’s divine realm for generations.
Finally, Murphy’s gaze landed on the Human Race.
The Human Race seemed weak and ordinary, yet they had existed since ancient times and continued to thrive, living on the Dawn Continent to this day.
There was nothing to hesitate about. Murphy said, “I choose the Human Race.”
He said this the moment the inheritance hall appeared with a warm, inclusive orb of light. Pure holy power gathered together, condensing into an orb that Murphy held in his palm.
Next was the process of splitting his own soul and casting it into the orb.
Murphy looked at the Chaos God. This deity seemed to be preparing to witness a good show, tapping his finger, and a complete inheritance secret technique flowed into Murphy’s brain.
Murphy’s eyelid twitched. Even he felt a moment of silence when he saw this inheritance: “Split your own soul, divide the soul into two, cast it into it, nurture a new embryo, and replicate another clone.” Murphy said, “The Fate Race must be in great pain during the soul-splitting process.”
“What else?” The Chaos God said, “Otherwise, why do you think we went extinct?”
Murphy could only take a deep breath. Then, with the Chaos God’s help, Murphy’s division began. This multi-faced Chaos God watched this scene with a smile. Murphy’s conscious body crawled slowly out of the sea of consciousness. Then, this black-mud-like substance slowly reached out and cut itself from the inside out, splitting into two halves.
The pain of being torn apart from head to toe arrived. It was an indescribable, unbearable pain, as if every inch of his soul was being self-mutilated. Murphy felt so much pain that he wanted to scream, wanted to go mad. The Chaos God saw this and let out a loud laugh. Murphy’s face was covered in cold sweat, yet under such excruciating torture, the man’s movements remained very steady. He still had a faint smile on his lips, while deep within his purple pupils surged a profound ocean. His sea of consciousness was turned upside down. The blood contract orb seemed to notice something and gently reached out its tentacles.
A faint sense of comfort arrived. Murphy’s brows relaxed. At that moment, his soul was divided into two by himself. The man’s body trembled, but he still lifted his lips and slowly smiled:
“You are indeed right,” Murphy’s voice was hoarse. “The process of creating the first clone is indeed… very safe.”
As his voice fell, the divided half of his soul was cast into the orb, turning into a moth’s cocoon. Murphy seemed to be able to sense “himself” falling into a deep sleep. Warm holy power surrounded him, making half of his soul feel warm, while the other half of his soul still shivered from the excruciating pain.
He combed his hair back, his purple eyes long and narrow, and the smile on his lips became more ferocious. His pupils slowly contracted, the purple glow bizarre, as if tearing away the superficial at this moment, revealing a trace of thorough madness, unbridled, gambler-like mentality, and a demonic nature permeating from his very bones.
The madman who had finally torn himself apart laughed and said, “Now, it is just a matter of waiting for me to advance to the Archmage rank and nurture this clone.”
But even before this clone was fully nurtured, Murphy still felt the circulation of magic power in his body accelerate a lot because, under these circumstances, his sea of consciousness had almost doubled in size. The left side belonged to the Human Race, radiating holy power and warmth; while the right side was the Fate Race, radiating evil purple.