Chapter 1

March, early spring.

In the eastern part of Nanhuanzhou, a corner.

The sky was overcast, a gray-black hue, heavy and oppressive, as if someone had splashed ink on rice paper, the ink seeping into the sky, staining the clouds.

The clouds piled up, merging with each other, emitting streaks of crimson lightning, accompanied by the rumbling of thunder.

It was as if the gods were growling, echoing through the human world.

Blood-red rain, carrying a sense of sorrow, fell to the earth.

The land was hazy, and there stood a ruined city, silent and lifeless in the dim red rain.

Within the city, walls and buildings were in ruins, all things withered, and collapsed houses could be seen everywhere, along with dark blue corpses and shredded flesh, like broken autumn leaves, silently withering.

The once bustling streets were now desolate.

The sandy roads, once filled with people, were now silent.

Only the blood-soaked mud, mixed with flesh, dust, and paper, remained, a sight that was both shocking and heart-wrenching.

Not far away, a broken carriage was stuck in the mud, full of sorrow, with only a discarded rabbit doll hanging from the carriage pole, swaying in the wind.

The white fur was already soaked in blood, giving it a sinister and eerie appearance.

Its murky eyes seemed to hold some lingering resentment, staring alone at the mottled stones ahead.

There, a figure lay prostrate.

It was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, dressed in tattered clothes, covered in dirt, with a damaged leather bag tied around his waist.

The boy squinted his eyes, motionless, the bone-chilling cold seeping through his worn-out coat, gradually taking away his body heat.

But even as the rain fell on his face, he did not blink, his eyes cold and sharp, staring into the distance.

Following his gaze, about seven or eight zhang away, a gaunt vulture was feasting on the carcass of a wild dog, occasionally looking around alertly.

It seemed that in this dangerous ruin, even the slightest breeze would make it take flight.

The boy, like a hunter, patiently waited for the opportunity.

After a long while, the opportunity came, and the greedy vulture finally buried its head completely in the wild dog's abdomen.

In an instant, the boy's squinted eyes flashed with a cold light.

His body shot forward like an arrow, rushing straight for the vulture. With a flick of his right hand, he drew a black iron spike from the leather bag around his waist.

The tip of the iron spike gleamed with a sharp, cold light.

Perhaps sensing the impending danger, the vulture immediately noticed and, startled, flapped its wings to take off.

But it was too late.

The black iron spike, with the boy's expressionless throw, transformed into a black line, shooting out.

Pfft!

The sharp iron spike instantly pierced the vulture's head, shattering its skull and killing it instantly.

The powerful impact carried its body, tilting it as it fell, landing with a thud on the nearby carriage.

The blood-soaked doll, due to the carriage's movement, swayed even more.

The boy's expression remained calm, and his speed did not falter for a moment. He rushed to the spot, grabbing the vulture's body along with the iron spike.

The force was so great that the part of the carriage where the iron spike had pierced was also lifted slightly.

After doing this, he turned and quickly left along the edge of the street.

The wind seemed to grow stronger at this moment, the rain bringing a chill that swept over the boy's thin coat.

The boy involuntarily shivered, his brows slightly furrowed, pulling his coat tighter and letting out a gasp.

He hated the cold.

The way to resist the cold was to find a sheltered place to rest, but the boy, running through the streets, did not slow down for a moment, with broken shops passing by him one after another.

He did not have much time left.

Because hunting the vulture had taken too long, he still had a place to go today.

"It shouldn't be far," the boy muttered to himself, running down the street.

On his way, he saw countless dark blue corpses, their faces twisted in despair, as if they were trying to infect his spirit with their hopelessness.

But the boy was used to it and did not even glance at them.

As time passed, the boy occasionally looked up at the sky, his face showing a hint of anxiety, as if the changing sky was more terrifying to him than the corpses.

Fortunately, when he saw a pharmacy in the distance, the boy let out a sigh of relief and rushed towards it.

The pharmacy was small, with many medicine cabinets scattered on the ground, emitting a musty smell, like a tomb that had been opened, full of disorder.

In a corner, there was a corpse of an old man, his body dark blue, leaning against the wall, as if he had not had time to close his eyes, staring blankly at the outside world.

The boy stepped in, glanced around, and immediately began to search.

Most of the herbs here, like the corpses, had turned dark blue, with only a few remaining normal.

Among these normal herbs, the boy carefully identified them for a long time.

It seemed he was recalling past experiences. Finally, he picked up a common wound-healing herb, took off his thin coat, and revealed a large scar on his chest.

The scar had not fully healed, and the edges were already turning black, with some blood seeping out.

The boy looked down at it, crushed the herb, took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and began to apply it to the wound.

Instantly, the wound was hit by a wave of intense pain, making the boy's body tremble uncontrollably, but he forced himself to endure it. The sweat on his forehead, however, could not be suppressed, dripping down his cheeks onto the dark ground.

It formed a puddle of ink.

The entire process lasted for more than ten breaths. When he had completely applied the herb to the wound, the boy seemed to lose all his strength, leaning on a medicine cabinet for a while before taking a deep breath and slowly putting his coat back on.

He looked at the sky again, then took out a tattered map from the leather bag around his waist, carefully spreading it out.

The map was simple, depicting the city.

The locations of the pharmacies were marked, and in the northeast direction, many areas were crossed out with fingernails, leaving only two areas uncrossed.

"Having searched for these days, it should be in one of these two areas," the boy said in a hoarse voice, putting the map away and preparing to leave.

Before leaving, he turned to look at the old man's corpse, his gaze falling on the old man's clothes.

It was a leather jacket, which, due to its material, had not corroded much.

The boy thought for a moment, walked over, and took the leather jacket off the old man's body, putting it on himself.

The jacket was a bit big, but it enveloped his thin body, and the boy finally felt a hint of warmth. He then looked down at the old man's open eyes, raised his hand, and gently closed them.

"Rest in peace," the boy said softly, tearing off a curtain from the shop and covering the old man's body, then turned and left the pharmacy.

As he walked out, a faint light reflected from a small piece of broken mirror in the blood-soaked mud.

In the mirror, he saw his own face.

The face reflected in the broken mirror, though covered in dirt, still showed a remarkably handsome face.

But it lacked the innocence of a boy of thirteen or fourteen, replaced by a coldness.

The boy silently looked at his reflection in the ground, and after a while, he lifted his foot and stepped on it.

Crack!

Cracks appeared.

After crushing the mirror, he swayed and quickly ran away.

On the ground, the broken mirror, though covered in cracks, still reflected a vast, half-human face in the sky, as if covering the world, covering all living beings, like the face of a deity.

The face was closed and cold, high above, with only a few withered, curved strands of hair hanging down.

It was a natural existence in this world, like the sun and the moon.

Under it, all living beings were like ants, and the phenomena of growth, influenced by it, had to change.

At this moment, the sky under the half-human face was gradually losing its light.

The shadow of the setting sun, like a black haze, spread over the ruins of the city, covering the earth, as if to swallow everything.

The rain grew heavier.

As the darkness gradually enveloped everything, the wind also intensified, carrying sharp, mournful sounds.

It was as if the wails of ghosts were awakening the eerie beings in the city, causing various bone-chilling sounds to respond, capturing the soul.

The boy, running, quickened his pace, his movements more urgent, weaving through the streets as the darkness descended.

When he passed a collapsed house and was about to jump, the boy's pupils suddenly contracted.

He caught a glimpse of a person not far away, in the ruins.

From a distance, the person was neatly dressed, seemingly uninjured, sitting against the wall.

Most importantly, the skin exposed on the person's body was normal, not dark blue!

Such a figure, in this city, could only be a living person, otherwise, it would be impossible!

And a living person... the boy had not encountered anyone else these past few days.

This scene made his heart tremble, and he quickly thought of something, his breathing becoming slightly faster.

He wanted to go, but the darkness, like a fog, was already enveloping him.

The boy hesitated, remembered the location, and quickly left.

Running all the way, he finally returned to his temporary shelter in the city before the darkness caught up with him.

It was a small cave, filled with bird feathers.

The entrance was narrow, too small for an adult to enter, but the boy could barely fit.

After entering, he skillfully blocked the entrance with books, stones, and other debris.

As he finished, the darkness outside instantly covered over.

The boy did not relax his vigilance, gripping the iron spike tightly, holding his breath, and squatting there, listening for a long time.

Gradually, the sounds of strange beasts' roars and mournful cries began to echo, occasionally mixed with eerie laughter.

When a clearer roar reverberated, the boy, tense, heard it pass by, gradually fading away. Only then did he let out a sigh of relief and sit down.

The cave was pitch black, and the boy sat there silently, as if time had stopped.

He stared blankly, calming his nerves, which had been tense all day, and took a few sips from a water flask. Ignoring the sounds outside, he took out the vulture from his pocket.

In the darkness, he put it to his mouth and tore it apart, bite by bite.

A bitter, metallic taste filled his throat, but he calmly swallowed it, pushing the food down his throat into his stomach.

His stomach, in turn, began to contract, trying to digest and alleviate the hunger.

Soon, he had eaten the entire vulture, took a deep breath, and a wave of fatigue washed over him, his eyes slowly closing.

But his hand, holding the black iron spike, remained tightly clenched, like a sleeping lone wolf.

It seemed that at the slightest abnormality, he would instantly open his eyes.

Outside, the darkness covered the city, the land, and the sky.

The world under the sky was vast, and Nanhuanzhou, located overseas, was just one part of it.

The exact size of the world was unknown to few, but the imposing half-human face in the sky, with its strong presence, was visible to all who looked up.

The exact time of the appearance of this half-human face was unknown.

People only knew from fragmented descriptions in ancient texts that, long, long ago, this world, filled with the aura of immortals, was prosperous and vibrant, until... this vast half-human face, bringing destruction, appeared from the depths of the void.

As it approached, the beings of this world used every method to stop it, but all failed. In the end, only a few ancient emperors, with some of their people, abandoned the masses and chose to migrate.

Soon, the half-human face arrived, hanging in the sky, and from then on, a nightmare began.

Its aura spread throughout the world, affecting the mountains, the sea, all living things, and even the spiritual energy that cultivators relied on for cultivation.

All things withered, and most living beings perished.

Since then, those who survived the disaster called this half-human face... a deity.

They called this world the Wasteland, and the place where the ancient emperors migrated was called the Holy Land.

This naming, passed down through many eras, was carried on from generation to generation.

The disaster brought by the deity was not just this. Its authority constantly suppressed all living beings, because...

Every few years, decades, or even centuries, it would open its eyes for a few breaths.

Every time it opened its eyes, the area it looked at would be instantly and strongly polluted.

Living beings would suffer, turning into eternal forbidden zones.

Over many eras, the forbidden zones in this world increased, and the habitable areas decreased.

Nine days ago, the deity opened its eyes again, looking at the area where the boy was.

All species and several human cities in that area, regardless of where they were, whether inside or outside the cities, or in the slums, were instantly and strongly polluted, turning into life-prohibiting zones.

Under this terrifying pollution, some living beings disintegrated into blood mist, some mutated into mindless beasts, and some were completely destroyed, leaving dark blue, polluted corpses.

Only a very small number of people and beasts could survive.

The boy was one of them.

At this moment, outside the dark cave, with a mournful sound approaching, the sleeping boy quickly opened his eyes.

The iron spike in his hand instinctively rose, and he looked vigilantly at the blocked entrance.

When the mournful sound circled nearby and gradually faded away, the boy let out a sigh of relief.

Without any sleepiness, he touched the leather bag, took out a bamboo scroll.

In the darkness, he felt the characters on the bamboo scroll, his eyes showing a glimmer of light, then he sat up straight, closed his eyes, and adjusted his breathing.

The boy's name was Xu Qing, who had lived alone in the slums outside the city since childhood.

Nine days ago, during the sudden disaster, he hid in a crevice, unlike the other terrified and frantic people. He calmly watched the deity in the sky open its eyes, seeing the unique cross-shaped pupils in the deity's eyes, seemingly devoid of fear.

Until he saw a purple light descend from the sky, landing in the northeast part of the city.

In the next instant, he fainted.

When he woke up, he was the only survivor inside and outside the city.

But he did not leave immediately.

Because he knew that the forbidden zone formed by the deity opening its eyes would be initially covered by blood rain, forming a barrier.

People inside could not leave, and people outside could not enter, unless the forbidden zone was fully formed.

The sign of its formation was the cessation of the blood rain.

This disaster, for Xu Qing, who grew up in the slums, was not much of a shock.

Because in the slums, whether it was the various vagrants, wild dogs, a disease, or a cold night, could cause people to lose their lives at any moment, and surviving was already a challenge.

As long as he was alive, other things did not matter.

Of course, amidst the cruelty of the slums, there were occasional moments of warmth.

For example, some destitute scholars would teach the children to read and write for a living, and there were also memories of his family.

But in Xu Qing's mind, the memories of his family had gradually faded over time, even though he tried hard to remember, fearing he would forget.

But he knew he was not an