Chapter 393: Four Great Evil Gods Make a Move, a Ten-Million-Year Illusionary Dream Flashes By

Chapter 393: The Four Chaos Gods Strike, a Ten-Million-Year Dream Vanishes in a Flash!

A new era had dawned, inaugurated by a Venerable known as Qin Feng.

Yet, at this very moment, the background of the Primordial Land—hollowed out and bleached pure white by the absorption of the Primordial Secret Technique—began to undergo a sinister transformation.

Within the stark whiteness, a faint, dark crimson hue seeped through, like the stain of dried blood.

From the depths of space came a faint, hair-raising sound of giggling and hushed whispers.

The air grew thick with a cloying, nauseating fragrance, a mixture of ecstasy and agony.

Across the pristine floor, patches of dark green moss, symbols of decay and despair, began to bloom and wither in an endless cycle.

"What... what is that?!"

Among the prodigies of the Divine Path, You Ye the Void Walker, most sensitive to such auras, was the first to shriek in terror. His body trembled uncontrollably, as if he had beheld a natural predator from the depths of his own bloodline, something far more terrifying than death itself.

Augustus, the Archangel, whose icy expression had remained unchanged for ten millennia, wore a look of extreme gravity for the first time. His eighteen pairs of wings unfurled, the holy light forming a shield to protect the others, yet the moment the shield touched the encroaching corruption, it hissed with the sound of acid eating through metal.

"It is 'Them'..." Augustus’s voice was parched, heavy with dread. "It is Chaos... it is the gaze of the Abyss!"

Caesar’s face turned deathly pale. He had once faced an illusion of Khorne in the Evil God’s Arena and remembered that aura all too well. But the scene before him was billions of times more horrific than what he had encountered then!

This was not the illusion of a single Evil God.

It was four distinct, equally filthy, equally terrifying supreme malices, each transcending the laws of the conventional universe, descending all at once!

The war cry of blood and slaughter—from Khorne.

The whispers of change and intrigue—from Tzeentch.

The murmurs of excess and indulgence—from Slaanesh.

The benevolence of decay and despair—from Nurgle.

The four supreme masters of the universe’s dark side, the four Chaos Gods, seemed to have reached a silent consensus. Their gazes, transcending time and space, pierced the barriers of the Endless Sea and the laws of the Seventy-Two Divine Passes, focusing with pinpoint precision upon the newly ascended Venerable—Qin Feng, whose life form was at its most "tender," most "delicious," and most easily "molded."

"It’s over..." Gu Man, the descendant of the Titans, lost all will to fight, his voice filled with despair. "Every being, at the moment of ascending to Venerable, poses a 'challenge' to the cosmic order, making them most vulnerable to the prying eyes of Chaos. But... to attract the corruption of all four gods at once... such a thing has never been recorded in the ancient history of the universe!"

"Because he is too 'perfect'." Augustus stared fixedly at Qin Feng, his eyes complex. "His path of the 'Ultimate' is the highest-grade 'material' for all four gods. His decisiveness in slaughter is the warrior Khorne admires most; his thirst for power and the unknown makes him the perfect pawn for Tzeentch; his Dao heart, which pursues ultimate perfection, is what Slaanesh craves in a devotee; and his Holy Dao, which embraces all things—even incorporating the 'End' into its cycle—is the ideal 'nourishment' for Nurgle’s garden of decay..."

"In history, any newly ascended Venerable corrupted by Chaos becomes one of the most terrifying generals in the Chaos faction. And he... if he falls... it will be a catastrophe for the entire cosmic order."

All eyes were fixed on Qin Feng.

They saw that his eyes, just transformed into the state of "Nothingness," began to reflect four distinct, twisted, and insane visions.

His body was entangled by four chaotic auras of different colors, as if being torn into four pieces.

To every onlooker, the outcome was sealed.

No one could resist the erosion of four Chaos Gods' wills at the moment of ascension.

Absolutely no one.

This newly born legend was about to fall into the deepest darkness at his most glorious moment.

Chaos was about to welcome its most powerful champion in history.

Qin Feng’s consciousness was instantly pulled into a world of blood.

There was no sky here, no earth.

Only a throne composed of endless, mountain-high skulls towered into the clouds. Upon it sat a terrifying entity, indescribable in form, composed of pure rage and killing intent.

[Khorne].

"Warrior!"

A voice as grand as a billion wars erupting at once exploded within Qin Feng’s soul.

"Your hands are stained with the blood of saints! Your spear has drained the souls of divine children! Your path is a road of glory paved with corpses! I have seen all of this, and... I am very satisfied!"

As the voice faded, Qin Feng found himself in the midst of a vast, boundless battlefield.

Beneath his feet lay a land flowing with blood and magma. Around him were endless, hideous demonic armies wielding all manner of weapons. And opposite him stood every enemy he had ever slain!

The Thousand-Armed Manifestation, the Absolute Shadow Saint, the Flame Prison Saint, the Heaven-Governor, the Glazed Saintess, Indra...

Each of them had been resurrected in their prime, their eyes burning with infinite hatred for Qin Feng.

"Come, warrior!" Khorne’s voice was filled with temptation. "This is the eternal battlefield prepared for you! Here are the strongest enemies, the most exhilarating slaughters! You no longer need to fight for survival, nor for resources! You need only follow your instinct—kill! Kill! Kill!"

"Offer their heads to me! Let the blood dye this land red! I shall grant you infinite power, make you the strongest champion under my throne, and let everywhere you tread become a sea of blood!"

This was the most direct temptation to Qin Feng’s combat instinct.

It was an attempt to twist his "stopping war through killing" into a desire to "kill for the sake of killing."

Qin Feng gripped his spear.

Looking at those familiar, hate-filled faces, his blood instinctively began to boil.

A pure, primal desire for battle rose from the depths of his soul.

He charged out.

The spear danced, his Venerable-level power unleashed without reservation.

Indra’s Divine Verdict was shattered by a single thrust of his spear.

The Heaven-Governor’s paradox of laws failed automatically before his domain.

Like a tiger among sheep, he slaughtered and tore apart these "arch-enemies" composed of illusions, over and over again.

Blood splattered, heads rolled.

With every enemy he killed, he could feel a pure, violent power surging from this world into his body, making him stronger.

The feeling was intoxicating.

He killed for a thousand years.

He killed for ten thousand years.

He killed for a million years.

He forgot time, forgot who he was, remembering only the instinct to fight.

His eyes turned crimson, and his body was covered in armor congealed from blood.

He was on the verge of total collapse, becoming a demon god of slaughter under Khorne’s throne.

Yet, in the nine-million-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine-thousandth year of the illusion.

As he once again pierced the phantom of Indra through the heart, looking at the face he had battled for three days and three nights, a flicker of clarity flashed through his mind.

"Why... must I kill?"

The question rang out like a morning bell in the depths of his soul.

Khorne’s voice boomed again: "For power! For glory! For the sake of killing itself!"

"No."

Qin Feng’s crimson eyes slowly regained a trace of clarity.

"I kill, so that I may live."

"I kill to protect the things I hold dear."

"I kill to ascend to greater heights and behold a more expansive horizon."

"My killing has a 'purpose'."

"While your killing is merely a 'process'."

"My path is that of the 'limit'. Slaughter is but one of the means by which I reach my limit, not the sum of my existence."

Boom!

The moment he uttered these words, the entire blood-red world began to tremble violently.

Those endless legions of enemies, that towering throne of skulls, all shattered like reflections in a mirror before his lucid will.

"Foolish!" Khorne roared in fury, "You reject supreme power!"

"What I reject is becoming a slave to power."

Qin Feng swept his spear, not at an enemy, but at the very "rules" of this world.

The crimson firmament was torn asunder by a massive gash.

He stepped forward, breaking free from this eternal battlefield.

The first illusion, shattered.

Emerging from the blood-soaked world of slaughter, Qin Feng’s consciousness did not return to reality, but instead plummeted into another, more bizarre and unfathomable space.

Here lay a world constructed of a shifting, crystalline labyrinth.

Every wall reflected a different "future."

In some futures, he became the master of the universe, with all races bowing before him.

In others, he transcended the cosmos, wandering the endless sea of chaos.

In some, he found the means to resurrect his lost kin, enjoying the warmth of family.

In others, he encountered even greater foes, his blood staining the stars.

...

A billion possibilities, a billion destinies, lay before him, within his grasp.

"Wise one."

A whisper, layered with countless voices and brimming with change and intrigue, echoed in his ears.

[Tzeentch].

"Your path of the 'limit' is intriguing. But it is, in the end, merely a 'line'. I, however, can show you the entire 'plane'."

"Look upon these futures. Each one is more glorious, more... interesting than the path you currently tread."

"Why cling to a predetermined road? Change is the only eternal truth of the universe. Abandon your narrow 'limit', embrace me, and I shall grant you the wisdom to perceive all destiny; I shall make you the 'Fateweaver' who toys with a thousand possibilities."

"You crave power? I can give you the shortcut to becoming a 'Transcendent'."

"You crave knowledge? This labyrinth itself is a collection of the universe's ultimate mysteries."

"You crave... to change the past?"

Tzeentch’s whisper was laden with lethal temptation.

It did not force Qin Feng to do anything; it simply laid countless "better choices" before him.

This was a direct interrogation of Qin Feng’s "Dao heart."

Qin Feng’s footsteps truly faltered.

He gazed into one crystal wall, watching himself and his long-departed father living a simple, happy life on a tranquil planet.

For the first time in ten thousand years, his Dao heart wavered.

He immersed himself in the labyrinth.

He deduced every future, analyzed every possibility.

Under Tzeentch’s guidance, his wisdom grew at an unprecedented rate. He felt as though he could see every gear of the universe, how they turned, how they meshed.

One million years.

Two million years.

Three million years.

He was nearly lost in these endless possibilities, forgetting his original "Dao."

Yet, after another million years passed within the illusion.

When he had deduced the final "possibility," he slowly closed his eyes.

"A beautiful tapestry," he said softly.

Tzeentch’s whisper carried a hint of triumph: "And so, what is your choice?"

"My choice is to paint my own, with my own hands."

Qin Feng opened his eyes abruptly, the chaotic light within them dispelling all confusion.

"All the futures you have shown me, no matter how glorious, share one common trait."

"They are all bestowed by 'you'."

"They are predetermined 'scripts'."

"My path is the 'limit'. It is to break all that is predetermined, to create all that is impossible. I may fail, I may fall, but that path must be one I walk myself, step by footprint."

"A destiny arranged for me, no matter how perfect, is but a cage."

"I refuse to be a pawn on your chessboard."

Boom!

His will, like a blade severing fate, struck fiercely at the heart of the labyrinth.

Countless crystal walls reflecting the future shattered with a roar.

Those billion possibilities dissolved into a rain of light, vanishing without a trace.

"A pity... what an interesting soul..."

Tzeentch’s sigh, filled with regret, echoed through the fractured space.

Qin Feng snorted coldly and stepped out from the ruins of destiny.

The second illusion, shattered.

Scarcely had he escaped the labyrinth of fate when an extreme, soul-trembling sensation of "pleasure" and "fulfillment" completely submerged Qin Feng’s consciousness.

He found himself seated upon a throne of white jade, its beauty and grandeur beyond the reach of language.

Below the throne were endless believers, worshipping him from the depths of their hearts. Among them were his former enemies, the survivors he had saved, gods, demons, and every living soul in the universe.

They chanted his name, praising his "Holy Dao of the Limit."

He could feel that his "Ultimate Sacred Path" had become the sole truth of this world.

A single thought from him was the law of the heavens and the earth.

A single word from him was the standard for all living beings.

Here, there was no pain, no struggle, no imperfection.

There was only absolute "perfection" and "satisfaction."

Everything he had once pursued—power, status, recognition—had reached its zenith here.

"Can you feel it, O Supreme One?"

A voice, androgynous and steeped in ultimate temptation, as if it could stir the deepest desires of the soul, echoed in his ear.

[Slaanesh].

"This is your 'limit.' You have reached the end. You have become the most perfect existence."

"You need not fight anymore, need not advance, need not endure loneliness and suffering."

"You only need to... enjoy."

"Enjoy this ultimate glory, enjoy this absolute perfection, enjoy the eternal pleasure of every fleeting moment. This is the reward you deserve."

This was the most terrifying corruption.

It did not attack your weaknesses; instead, it infinitely magnified your "virtues" and "achievements," leaving you mired in a swamp of self-satisfaction, thereby utterly destroying your will to move forward.

Qin Feng’s consciousness, indeed, sank into this "perfect heaven."

He reveled in the sensation of his words becoming law, of all things bowing in submission.

He delighted in the tranquility of a Dao heart made whole, devoid of any lack.

He spent a million years here, two million years...

He felt as if he had become one with this perfect world.

He was the limit, and the limit was him.

Yet, at a certain moment.

As he looked down at the fanatics worshipping him, watching this perfect world that had "stilled" because of his existence, a thought, like a poisonous weed, quietly sprouted in the depths of his heart.

"Is this... all there is?"

Slaanesh’s voice sounded again, carrying a hint of wariness: "Is this not enough? You already possess everything."

"Yes... I already possess everything."

Qin Feng whispered to himself, the trace of satisfaction and ease in his eyes slowly fading, replaced by a deeper, almost "void-like" calm.

"But... what is the meaning of the 'limit'?"

"Is it to reach an 'end'?"

He slowly stood up, overlooking the perfect world constructed by his achievements.

"No."

"The meaning of the 'limit' lies in the fact that there is always a 'next limit' waiting for me to break."

"The 'limit' is not a noun, but a verb."

"What you have given me is not 'perfection,' but 'stagnation.'"

"And stagnation, to me, is the greatest 'imperfection.'"

"Your heaven is too small. So small that... it cannot contain my 'Dao.'"

Boom!

His will no longer attacked outward, but turned inward to introspect.

The moment he denied this "perfection," the perfect heaven built upon "satisfaction" and "pride" lost its foundation of existence.

The white jade throne crumbled into dust, and the fanatical believers dissolved into phantoms.

The entire world, like a sand sculpture weathered by the wind, collapsed with a roar.

"Truly a... boring creature... who knows not how to enjoy..."

Slaanesh’s sigh, filled with resentment and dissatisfaction, dissipated into the void.

Qin Feng stood alone.

His Dao heart, having been baptized by "perfection," became even more resilient, and even more... humble.

He understood that the true limit is endless.

The third illusion, broken.

After the perfect heaven collapsed, Qin Feng’s consciousness fell into the final, and most desperate, realm.

Here, there was no light, no sound, no life.

Only endless decay, stagnation, and despair.

He saw stars rotting, laws crumbling, and the river of time turning into a pool of foul-smelling stagnant water.

The entire universe was heading toward an irreversible "heat death."

He saw his own body.

The indestructible [Primordial Ultimate Body], now covered in sores and moss, was slowly rotting and disintegrating.

The "Ultimate Sacred Path" within him, that perfect cosmic cycle, had also fallen into stagnation due to the loss of external support, and was marching toward death.

He felt a sense of "powerlessness" he had never known before.

His strength, his will, his Dao—before this ultimate "entropy increase" of the universe, they appeared so small, so... meaningless.

"Child."

A voice that seemed to have existed since the birth of the universe, filled with a morbid "benevolence," as gentle as a grandfather’s, echoed in his ear.

[Nurgle].

"Do you see? Everything will eventually rot. Everything will eventually return to my garden."

"Your struggles, your battles, your pursuits... were destined for this outcome from the very beginning."

"Your 'limit' also has its own 'limit' in the end."

"Why suffer any longer? Why struggle any longer?"

"Give up. Abandon that meaningless resistance. Accept this fated decay, accept this tranquility from the end."

"Come, fall into my embrace. In my garden, there is no pain, no despair, only eternal, serene 'stagnation.' I shall grant you... the final release."

This was the most malicious corruption.

It offered no hope, no desire.

It simply, nakedly, bestowed "despair" itself as a "gift."

Qin Feng’s consciousness, in this rotting world, fell into total silence.

He felt the ebbing of his life, the crumbling of his Daoist heart.

He saw himself reduced to a handful of dust, merging into this decaying earth.

He felt... an unprecedented sense of "relief."

Yes, no more struggling, no more fighting; everything had come to an end.

He fell into a deep slumber.

In Nurgle’s garden of rot, he slept for a million years, three million, five million...

His consciousness was on the verge of being completely assimilated by this realm of despair.

Yet, at the very moment before he was to find total "rest."

In the deepest reaches of his fading Daoist heart, the "Dao seed," fused with the [Primordial Secret Art], gave a gentle pulse.

That pulse was the cycle of "life" and "extinction."

It was the reincarnation of "limit" and "zero."

A spark of enlightenment, like the first light at the dawn of creation, illuminated his consciousness, long shrouded in despair.

"Decay... is not the end."

His consciousness, silent for millions of years, slowly awakened.

Nurgle’s benevolent voice carried a hint of confusion: "Child?"

"You see only 'decay,' yet you fail to see the 'new life' that gestates at the end of it."

Qin Feng’s "voice" echoed through this silent world.

Though his body continued to rot, his will was coalescing again at an incredible speed.

"My Dao is 'Limit.' It encompasses both the expansion of 'entropy increase' and the collapse of 'entropy decrease.'"

"Death is a part of the cycle, not its terminus."

"The 'despair' you present is merely a 'stage' that my Dao must inevitably traverse."

"I accept decay."

"But I refuse... to sink into it!"

Boom!

His will was no longer resistance, but "encompassment"!

He actively and calmly integrated Nurgle’s holy Dao, which represented "the end" and "decay," into the cycle of his own "Limit Universe"!

"No! You cannot do this!"

For the first time, panic touched Nurgle’s benevolent voice.

He discovered that his power, used to corrupt all things, had become an indispensable link of "death" in the cycle of his opponent’s holy Dao!

Far from corrupting the other, he had... become a part of him!

"Thank you for your 'gift'."

Qin Feng’s consciousness, having fully embraced this "decay," became more complete than ever before.

His Dao, having weathered the four trials of slaughter, fate, perfection, and despair, was now without flaw.

The garden of decay lost all its power before his perfected Daoist heart.

The realm of despair collapsed with a roar.

The fourth illusion, the final one, shattered!

[The Primordial Land].

In the eyes of Augustus, Caesar, and the others, filled with horror,

Time seemed to have passed in only a single instant.

They saw the four-colored, terrifying aura of the Chaos Gods, which had been coiled around Qin Feng, suddenly boil over in unison!

It was as if four supreme entities had simultaneously let out a roar of frustration and rage.

The next second.

Boom—!!!

Those four streams of filth-ridden Chaos energy were forcibly and violently expelled by a will of "Dao" that erupted from within Qin Feng—a will more pure, more grand, and more incomprehensible than anything they had known!

The pure white [Primordial Land] instantly regained its original color.

It was as if the terrifying, world-shattering scene from a moment ago had been but a hallucination.

And Qin Feng stood quietly in place, just as before.

He slowly opened his eyes.

Those eyes remained the deep, chaotic color.

But unlike before, they now held an absolute calm and indifference, as if he had witnessed the birth and death of the universe a billion times and seen through the vicissitudes of eternity.

To the outside world, perhaps only a moment had passed.

But for Qin Feng, he had truly struggled, fought, sunk, and found enlightenment within the mental illusion constructed by the four evil gods, where the flow of time was infinitely dilated...

Ten million years.

"He... he... succeeded?"

Gu Man’s voice was stuttering, filled with disbelief.

"He withstood... the simultaneous corruption of... four evil gods?"

You Ye’s figure flickered in the void, betraying his deep inner turmoil.

Augustus remained silent, staring fixedly at Qin Feng; data streams flashed frantically in his eyes made of holy light, as if he were trying to fully parse this existence that had completely shattered all his knowledge and logic.

Qin Feng paid them no mind.

He simply let out a gentle breath.

That breath seemed to exhale the fatigue and dust of ten million years of illusion.

His Daoist heart, tempered by this ultimate trial, was now rounded and seamless, unstained by a single speck of dust.

The four evil gods, far from corrupting him, had become his finest "whetstone," allowing him to fully stabilize the realm of [Universe Venerable], and even... take a step further.

He raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through space and time to meet those four pairs of eyes from the abyss, eyes filled with rage and greed.