Night Journey

Chapter 92 The Time of Revelry
The piercing alarm echoed through the vertical farm, and urged on by the shrill sound, swathes of bacteria stirred and began to writhe.

Cillian opened the backpack he was carrying and took out a heavy explosive device.

This was commissioned by Cillian to be made by Bruce—a perfect creation made from a mixture of dangerous materials such as high explosives, soul essence, steel balls, and iron fragments. Cillian affectionately called it "Fireworks."

"As a guest, how can I not knock on the door?"

As he spoke, Cillian pulled the fuse of the explosive, and after a flash of sparks, he hurled it into the deep darkness below.

After a brief delay, terrifying flames rose from the depths of darkness.

The pure soul essence ignited a wildly expanding fireball, burning away any bacteria it touched, and instantly evaporating countless figures that collided with it into gray-black shadows.

Some people managed to take cover under the shelter, but along with the explosion came countless steel balls and shrapnel, which, like a hail of bullets, pierced through the metal shields, leaving the hiding people torn to pieces.

The building shook violently, the expanded areas collapsed one after another, the inner walls of the broken copper pipes were covered with mineral deposits like scabs, and steam roared out of the cracks with a sharp metallic scraping sound, like the panting of a dying beast.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

Some of the wicked offspring realized what was happening and awakened their primal energy.

"Damn it, is it an attack by the city garrison? Why haven't we heard anything about it!"

The incoherent shouts continued.

Ciri heard all of these sounds, and a calm, "cooing" sound came from under the six-eyed winged helmet.

Cillian raised the jet revolver. Below was a scene of chaos and devastation, but this did not prevent him from using the source energy reaction to deduce the opponent's location.

Similarly, he doesn't need to accurately hit the enemy's body; he only needs to shoot and detonate.

Pulling the trigger, the Soul Essence Bullet transformed into a burning stream of fire, descending from the sky.

Exploding fireballs rose one after another, overturning the sheet metal, burning through the rusted gears inside, melting the pipes, and exposing the humus that caused the blockage.

The accumulated steam inside was released at this moment, spewing out a column of steam mixed with black fungal residue, which corroded into bubbling acid pits after landing.

"I am coming!"

Cillian shouted down, "Isn't anyone going to greet the guest?!"

No one responded to Cillian's taunts. His arrival was too sudden, and his offensive was fierce and frenzied, with one man displaying the momentum of hundreds.

"Ha ha!"

Cillian laughed and threw more explosives down below.

After an earthquake-like roar, the topmost planting platform collapsed, and the pervasive green mist was completely burned away and disappeared.

Cillian saw it.

The mycelium emerged from the cracks in the ground, grayish-green in color, covered with a layer of sticky liquid that glistened in the firelight.

As if possessing self-awareness, they sensed the approaching danger and multiplied and grew wildly, spreading with an almost mechanical precision.

The bacteria spread to a large piece of machinery nearby, first wrapping around pipe joints and softening the sealant, then seeping into the gearbox and mixing with the lubricating oil to form a gel-like substance, gradually causing the delicate transmission system to jam. Finally, they enveloped the entire mechanical structure, forming a translucent biological shell, with digested metal fragments faintly visible inside—these hyphae are not simply parasites; they are also consuming everything they touch.

Cillian pulled the trigger again, and the completely corroded equipment exploded, bursting into flames.

The sound of hurried footsteps came from all directions. After a brief moment of panic, the evil offspring gathered their strength and surrounded Ciri.

Cillian sensed the situation roughly and found that, just as he had predicted, they were all Rank 1 and Rank 2 beings. He had not yet detected any Rank 3 enemies.

The iron gate on one side was violently kicked open, and before Cirion could see the true face of the wicked offspring, a surging fog of spores rushed towards him.

Wherever the spore mist touches, countless fungi sprout out of thin air, corroding the surface of the material and creating pits and craters. The moment they come into contact with the human body, they can parasitize the skin and burrow into the flesh.

Even the Throne Guards, known for their physical strength, could not resist this erosion of flesh and blood.

In the minds of his wicked offspring, within seconds, Ciri would be covered in mushrooms, his blood sucked dry, his flesh devoured, leaving behind only a fragile, empty shell.

But what was presented to the wicked offspring was a rising heat wave.

"It's more interesting when the two sides are evenly matched..."

Ciri murmured, his soul essence igniting completely, reflecting countless burning red blood vessels.

He exhaled gently forward, spitting out a series of sparks.

The spore mist was killed by the deadly heat before it could even reach Ciri.

An intense heat concentrated in his palm, and Ciri clenched the Boiling Sword, which then blazed brightly.

A crimson sword light rapidly magnified in the eyes of the wicked offspring.

Cillian's strike was so fast that by the time he felt the slow, agonizing pain, his neck and chest had been completely cleaved open.

"Do not……"

The self-healing ability that the wicked offspring were so proud of failed at this moment.

The flesh and blood that the boiling sword touched were charred and vaporized, losing all vitality. No mycelium grew, and no blood flowed.

Ciri suddenly stopped and spun around, cleaving the head in two with a single strike, freezing the last scene in the eyes of the wicked offspring onto the Boiling Sword.

Open the magazine, eject the empty cartridge cases, and reload.

Cillian raised the jet revolver and fired it three times into the passage ahead.

Three explosions arrived late, and the raging flames filled the passage, slowing down the progress of the wicked offspring.

Cillian strode quickly into a control room.

Corroded by the power of chaos, mycelium sprouted from the cracks in the dashboard, wrapping the pointers into twisted, tumor-like structures.

Cillian didn't know what this place was used to control, but that didn't stop him from plunging the Boiling Sword into the dashboard.

"Ha ha!"

Amidst Cillian's laughter, the pointers on the control panel began to spin wildly.

"Where! Where!"

Cillian looked around expectantly, wondering where the next surprise might occur.

The commotion came from another platform.

Deeper inside, within a steam boiler completely consumed by mycelium, the mycelial network forms an insulating layer on the boiler's inner wall, while steam is directed through mycelial pipes, providing energy to the distant mycelial community. Ciri's playful actions disrupt this fragile balance.

Inside the furnace, the raging fire heated the thick metal walls until they glowed red-hot, causing them to twist and deform like iron blocks gripped tightly by tongs.

As the internal pressure continued to rise, finally, at a certain moment, the tiny cracks on the metal wall rapidly spread into a hideous rift.

Cirien onomatopoeia.

"Boom!"

The steam boiler collapsed and exploded, and the high-temperature steam, like a runaway horse, gushed out with intense heat and violence, tearing the air into countless fragments, and the shock wave swept around.

Countless figures and buildings fell down in unison, like waves of wheat smoothed by the wind.

Before they could even get up, the flying metal fragments, carrying enormous kinetic energy, created a secondary killing effect, leaving the flesh and blood riddled with holes.

The sudden cooling of the steam caused a collapse, which in turn generated a reverse water hammer impact, further tearing the piping system and supporting structure. A series of pipes ruptured as a result, and torrential rain began to fall deep underground.

As Ciri walked through the ruins, each step crushed the mixture of mycelium and metal, producing a teeth-grinding cracking sound.

The scorching heat of the steam clashed with the chill of the mycelium in the air, creating a pungent, acidic smell. In the distance, the groaning of gears mingled with the sticky sounds of the growing mycelium, as if the ruins themselves were whispering.

Cillian spoke softly the whispers of the ruins.

"There is no salvation here, only corruption and the end of death."

Then, rustling sounds came from all directions, and those figures who should have been killed by the explosion stood up again.

Some of them lost their arms, some had their stomachs ripped open, and some were headless.

People should have died, but they came back to life. Fungi writhed in their horrific wounds, like a swarm of maggots gnawing at flesh and blood, as if they were trapped in the world by some vicious curse, unable to find peace.

"I cannot save you, nor do I intend to."

Cillian continued speaking his lines as if he were on a stage, putting on a personal show.

Countless rotting zombies, wriggling like maggots, emerged from the darkness, emitting chilling growls, and surged toward Cirion like a tidal wave.

"But fortunately, I can mercifully grant you eternal peace."

Ciri charged into the horde of corpses like an arrow released from a bow, his sharp blade slicing through the air with a piercing whistle.

With a flick of his wrist, the Boiling Sword instantly sliced ​​across the neck of a zombie, black blood gushing out like a fountain. Without pausing, he made a graceful turn, and the Boiling Sword swept across like a scythe of death, severing several zombies in half at the waist, their rotting flesh and entrails falling like raindrops.

Cillian fought his way through the enemy lines until he reached a high vantage point.

These zombies pose no danger to him; what he really needs to be wary of are those lurking, wicked offspring.

"It's rather disappointing."

Ciri thought to herself with a sense of relief that she had swaggered in and brutally destroyed everything they had.

I thought my wicked offspring would shout about faith and madness, and have a fair fight with me.

As a result, apart from the few he killed at the beginning, Cillian could only sense the presence of chaotic power and could not see any other evil offspring.

"coward!"

Cillian cursed furiously, his voice trembling with rage.

He turned sideways and raised his elbow, slamming it hard into the walker's chest. At the same time, the Boiling Sword thrust upwards, piercing through the walker's chin and into its brain, exploding into a pool of foul blood.

The horde of corpses grew increasingly frenzied, raising their hands. Cillian followed suit, raising his hands and letting out strange cries of cheer.

"Fan meeting!"

Ciri shouted affectionately, his Boiling Sword swung like a whirlwind, dismembering the zombies wherever it went, with limbs flying wildly in the air and black blood pouring down like a torrential rain, turning him into a blood-soaked figure.

In an instant, hundreds of zombies fell to Cillian's sword, their deaths gruesome. Even the most professional coroner would have difficulty piecing the bodies back together.

A series of energy reactions suddenly rose from among the corpses, and the evil offspring appeared at this moment, seizing the moment when Cirion was catching his breath, and raised their deadly daggers.

The dagger was pressed against Ciri's throat, but the Boiling Sword struck first.

The blades clashed, and the two remained locked in a stalemate.

"Reverse Falcon, after such a fierce battle, how much source energy and soul essence do you have left to burn?"

The wicked offspring sneered, gripping his sword with both hands, attempting to overpower Cirion by force.

"Oh, why don't you try it and you'll see?"

Ciri responded with a smile, the intense heat spreading from the Boiling Sword red-hot the wicked offspring's dagger, and then... it melted!
Blessings and hatred.

Like splitting soft water, the boiling sword melted and severed the dagger, plunging heavily into the chest of the wicked offspring.

His eyes were filled with shock, unable to believe what was happening before his eyes.

"why?"

Why does Cillian still possess such immense source energy? Why does he still have soul essence to burn? Why does he still have the stamina to fight?

Why was he so ecstatic?
The wicked offspring couldn't understand it, and they never had the chance to understand it.

The raging flames devoured his remains, and Ciri strode forward past his corpse.

The Ouroboros Sign was pleased with Cirion's atrocities, and he was ecstatic about what he had done.

"Next!"

Cirien brandished his sword and roared.

"Where is the next challenger?!"

Suddenly, a hazy green mist spread out, and wherever it went, fungi grew wildly, transforming the devastated ruins into a lush green landscape.

The knight, clad in bulky heavy armor, gripped a moss-covered halberd and strode toward Cirion.

"Oh, here comes the challenger."

As Ciri spoke, he opened fire on the approaching figures, and the Soul Essence Bullets ignited a series of sparks.

(End of this chapter)