Chapter 95: The Origin of Everything

In the vast, boundless expanse of the starry sky, countless stars were scattered haphazardly beneath the dark canopy, making the entire universe seem like a bottomless black hole. Amid the brilliance of the stars, no one noticed a sudden ripple in a certain region of this black expanse. In the next moment, that patch of sky cracked like a shattered mirror, only to instantly restore itself to its pristine state before it could fully break apart. Like ripples spreading across water, this insignificant spot sent out subtle undulations.

This was a world of solitude, inhabited only by innumerable, massive, jagged boulders drifting through space.

“You’ve finally arrived at the beginning. I’ve waited for so very long, until I am nearly gone from this world…” A corpulent giant, his entire body shrouded in a black robe, sat atop one of the rocks, gazing into the distance at a sapphire-blue planet, light-years away.

Before long, countless snowflakes began to drift down through space. This snow was black.

The corpulent giant seemed to feel a chill, pulling the black robe more tightly around himself and rubbing his hands together. His hands were monstrous and decayed, and as he rubbed them, flakes of flesh and skin fell away.

“Truly unpleasant…” the giant sighed, withdrawing his hands and huddling deeper into his robe.

…

Meanwhile, in another corner of ZZ City, a corpse creature carrying a large pack on its back entered the city, which was now overrun by its own kind. Yet this one was somehow different. His stride was brisk and vigorous, his back ramrod straight, and a piercing red light flickered in his eyes. Upon seeing the endless sea of corpses, he even licked his parched lips.

“Though all corpses are lost in stupor, I alone remain clear-headed. One day, I will save you all…”

…

ZM City.

The entire city was shrouded in a nightmare of unknown origin, smothered in darkness. Terrifying howls would occasionally erupt from the city center. Both corpse creatures and mutated beings roamed here, and even the sound of their voices was enough to stifle any breath—this place had become a forbidden zone for survivors.

Insane roars filled the entire city.

Yet perhaps the calmest sound was the persistent footsteps that echoed through every street.

Inside a dilapidated bar, a figure dressed in casual attire sat alone in a shadowy corner, sipping delicately, exuding an air of refinement. Like blood, red wine was poured into a tall glass, cup after cup, while the horrors outside were ignored completely. Occasionally, he would lick the corner of his mouth, and whatever pleasant thought crossed his mind would bring a charming smile to his lips.

Dipping his finger into the viscous red wine, he wrote the letters “ZZ” on the tabletop, then casually struck a cross through them.

“The first one…”

Creak.

The bar’s door swung open, and a man in a tailcoat entered, a bizarre silver smile fixed to his mask.

“I’m quite curious—you actually dared to come in here.”

The masked man’s voice was slightly shrill, impossible to tell if he was laughing or crying. “I’ve come to discuss a business deal.”

“Not interested.”

“Oh, but you will be…”

Saying this, he deliberately wiped away the ‘ZZ’ letters on the table.

The young man, still drinking his red liquid, smiled soundlessly. “A god needs a gun pointed at the heads of mortals, yet in the end, that gun will kill the god himself.”

Crack!

In a flash, the young man’s gloved hand shot out, striking the masked man’s head with a slap that spun it three hundred and sixty degrees. The headless corpse toppled over stiffly. It was so fast, there wasn’t even a blur; the masked man had no chance to react. Even in death, he didn’t understand why, given his status, he died so easily.

“There are no gods in this world. When the ignorant abound, gods will always emerge.” The young man drained the viscous liquid in his glass in one go, then laughed aloud. “And I—will kill a god before your very eyes!”

Shortly after, two figures entered the bar, handling the aftermath and awaiting the young man’s orders. He picked up a white handkerchief, wiped the corner of his mouth, and said calmly, “Cancel the plan. Let them scatter.”

…

Downtown ZZ City.

Once, this city had been the economic hub of the southern region, lauded as the flower of the Central Plains. The city center was the most developed area, its daily foot traffic almost terrifying in scale. Yet after disaster struck, it became the site of the deadliest infection. In less than an hour, the contagion spread from the central district to the entire city.

A book had once said: when Heaven seeks destruction, it always offers hope for survival.

Thus, the Sky Pillar appeared.

To call it a pillar was misleading—it was more like a gigantic cylindrical skyscraper. At its core lay an open space several hundred meters wide, with magnificent, transparent bridges connecting its center to the outside world. These bridges were the only passage between the Sky Pillar’s interior and the outside.

No one knew who had built the last true sanctuary on earth; with old world technology, it would have been impossible. Beyond the bridges lay the perimeter of the Sky Pillar, where dazzling white light illuminated a hundred-meter radius, repelling all corruption and evil. Yet this radiance, known as the Holy Light, was now steadily diminishing—from a hundred meters at its brightest, to less than thirty meters now.

Endless tides of corpses pressed against the sanctuary, completely encircling the area. Among them were many still dressed in the uniforms of the security forces, a testament to their failed attempts at breaking out or pushing back the horde.

The Sky Pillar, once hailed as the absolute safe zone of the ruined era, now teetered on the brink of collapse.

The predators could not enter, but they could besiege the survivors within, waiting for their resources and energy to run dry.

Sky Pillar, Floor Thirty.

A middle-aged man stood there, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, standing tall at one eighty-five, his hair cropped close to the scalp. The scars on his skull—some from blunt force, some from blades, others from bullets—set him apart. Yet he still stood strong, and his aura was so severe and cold that it repelled anyone who dared approach.

This, the man known as Bian Qiu, was reputed to be the most formidable in the Sky Pillar. He was the Chief of the Operations Command Group, wielding military power—one of the true decision-makers.

The thirtieth floor was the headquarters for the regular stationed forces; currently, it was under the command of Operations Group One. The Sky Pillar had a total of six hundred ninety-nine floors—hence its name, for it seemed to reach the heavens.

“Minister, should we attempt another breakout? We could request permission from the boss to deploy all the gravity armor units at full force—otherwise, we won’t last much longer,” a worried man asked respectfully.

Though he was a division chief with considerable status, he was still worlds below his superior—especially this legendary figure, Bian Qiu.

Bian Qiu remained silent, his eyes fixed on the massive smart screen displaying the scene outside the Sky Pillar. A long time passed before he finally turned and left. From the moment he entered the command center to the moment he departed, he hadn’t spoken a single word, nor did his expression change. He arrived with a stern face and left the same way, leaving everyone guessing at his true thoughts.

Division Chief Lan Bei watched him go, and only after Bian Qiu’s figure vanished completely did he let out a long sigh, shaking his head with a wry smile.

Sky Pillar, Floor 680, Research Department Laboratory.

“Bian, did you see anything new on your visit?”

“Nothing at all. Same as before. The boss hasn’t called a meeting in ages, gives us no clear direction. Are we still counting on those teams we sent out earlier? Or support from other Pillars?”

“Sigh. Complain all you like, but don’t smoke in my lab. Put it out, or I’ll throw you out myself.”

“Alright, alright, I know fire’s banned in your lab. I actually came to ask you something.”

“Don’t bother! Whatever it is, I won’t answer.”

Resigned, Bian Qiu stubbed out his cigarette and slipped it into his pocket. The man before him was as stubborn as they came. He wondered if all researchers had bad tempers and a lofty air.

“You shouldn’t be called Bai Clear—you’re Bai Confused! Just hand over the item, and I’ll lead the Operations Group to carve us a path out!” Bian Qiu berated the man in the white lab coat.

Bai Qingchu replied with measured calm, “I am the Research Director. I have my duty, my mission—I cannot betray it. Besides, I don’t want you dead. You cannot bear the cost.”

Bian Qiu tried to protest, but Bai Qingchu cut him off. “Even if you are the strongest man in the Sky Pillar, you still cannot bear it.”