Silence.
The deafening din of the battlefield, loud enough to tear eardrums, froze for a bizarre, fleeting second.
The dozens of surviving Midnight Rangers stared blankly at the clean, fan-shaped swath of land that had been wiped completely clear before them, their minds entirely blank.
Fear, shock, and confusion intertwined, leaving them barely remembering how to breathe.
“What…
what on earth…
are you?” The surviving captain asked, his voice dry and raspy.
Was it human?
An afterimage?
Or…
something else entirely?
He had never seen such an eerie and powerful entity.
The figure wearing the white mask did not answer.
He merely knelt on one knee, his chest heaving violently as if he were enduring immense agony.
Beneath the mask, Mohai’s vision was already beginning to go dark in waves.
[Warning: Extreme depletion of life source!
Continued high-intensity output will result in the collapse of soul structure!] The system’s emotionless, blood-red warning flashed frantically in his consciousness like a death knell.
Yet this brief moment of tranquility was soon shattered by a fresh wave of despair.
“Roar—!” “They’re…
they’re coming again!” In the deeper darkness, more Tacet Discords clawed their way out of the mud, and more phantom soldiers coalesced from the Retroact Rain.
Fearless of death, they surged forward once more, gathering into a black tide that charged toward this tiny isolated island.
The soldiers, who had just kindled a spark of hope, were once again filled with despair.
It was useless.
Completely useless.
There was no end to these enemies.
Mohai propped himself up against the ground.
He knew that mindless slaughter was meaningless here.
Within the Threnodian’s domain, these entities could regenerate indefinitely.
He had to fundamentally rewrite the rules of this battlefield.
To forge a path to survival for them, and for himself.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet.
In the downpour of gray rain, his slender frame looked incredibly fragile, yet he stood like an unbending javelin, pinned firmly at the very front of the Midnight Rangers.
*System…* He roared in his mind, exhausting his last remaining strength.
*Simulate…
Reconstruct!* [Command confirmed.
Commencing rule-level interference on the designated area.
Life source consumption rate will increase by 500%!
Confirm execution, Host?] “Execute!” As he roared those words, Mohai threw his arms wide open, as if to embrace this very hell.
Hum—!
An invisible wave, centered on his body, swept out with terrifying force!
This time, it was not annihilation, but banishment!
With Mohai as the center, within a hundred-meter radius, all the gray raindrops flowing upward were instantly vaporized, twisted, and repelled the moment they touched this boundary, as if hitting an invisible barrier!
The phantom soldiers that had just stepped into this domain let out silent shrieks.
Like snow under a scorching sun, their bodies rapidly dissolved.
Meanwhile, the charging Tacet Discords slammed into an invisible wall, their forward momentum ground to a screeching halt!
A tiny, rainless, phantom-free “sanctuary” was forcibly carved out by Mohai from this battlefield corrupted by the Lament!
*Crack.* With a soft sound, a hairline fracture quietly split across his mask.
At the exact same time, in that hidden, unknown cottage back in Jinzhou.
The physical body of Mohai, lying on the bed, suddenly convulsed.
A stream of bright red blood trickled slowly from his nostrils, staining the pillow beneath his head.
His life force was draining away at a terrifying speed.
Back on the battlefield.
Having conjured this “miracle,” Mohai swayed, nearly collapsing to the ground.
“Quick!
Everyone!
Group up on him!!” The Midnight Ranger captain finally snapped out of it, roaring with every ounce of strength in his lungs.
“He is not the enemy!
He’s helping us!” The surviving soldiers awoke as if from a dream, rushing into the rainless sanctuary in a hurried but orderly scramble.
Looking at the bizarre, blocked-off curtain of rain and the wildly roaring Tacet Discords outside, their faces were filled with the disbelief of surviving against all odds.
Were they really…
saved?
This sanctuary was like the eye of a storm, carving out a pocket of breathing room for them amidst the endless black tide.
*** On the other side of the battlefield, the troops led by Jiyan were also locked in a bitter struggle.
Holding his spear, every sweep of his weapon whipped up a sharp gale, tearing several Tacet Discords to shreds.
But he knew this was merely a drop in the bucket.
General Geshu Lin’s final order was to hold the line at all costs, but with his sharp intuition as a military doctor, Jiyan knew this battlefield had already become a graveyard.
If this continued, everyone would be ground down to their deaths.
“Lieutenant!
Look over there!” A sharp-eyed scout suddenly pointed into the distance, his voice laced with shock.
Jiyan looked in the direction of his finger.
Amidst the boundless curtain of gray rain, a small patch of land was actually “clean.” There was no rain there, nor were there any phantoms—only a faint, shimmering halo, like a final lighthouse shining in the dark.
A mysterious figure stood right in the center of that zone.
Jiyan’s pupils contracted sharply.
He saw clearly that at the edges of that sanctuary, countless Tacet Discords were thrashing in a frenzy, yet they could not cross the line by even a single step.
Who was it?
What hidden, godlike master had appeared?
There was no time to ponder.
His battle-honed instincts instantly made the call.
That was their only hope of survival!
“All troops, hear my command!” Jiyan’s voice, defying Geshu Lin’s orders for the very first time, reverberated through resonance to every corner he could reach.
“Abandon defensive positions!
Break through toward the southeast coordinates at full speed!” *** Mohai felt his consciousness peeling away bit by bit.
Kneeling on one knee, he gasped heavily.
Every breath felt like inhaling scalding shards of glass.
Yet he held on grimly, maintaining this hard-won “sanctuary.” He knew he had bought them their chance.
Whether they lived or died was now up to them.
And he…
had also met the enemy he must face.
An indescribable, primeval pressure descended from the heavens, locking onto this tiny “anomaly.” Mohai forced his head up with great difficulty.
High above, the massive, cloud-churning mass of flesh—the Threnodian—with its countless twisted, wailing faces, was slowly turning in unison toward his direction.
The sole “anomaly” on this battlefield had finally drawn its gaze.