Slaying God: I, the insane and witty god

The gale, carrying golden fragments of divine power, raged across the ruins of the hospital like thousands of tiny razors.

Sun Wukong stood in a pile of rubble up to his waist, the golden cudgel in his hand still humming slightly.

In the center of the ruins opposite him, the blond man who called himself the "Oldest King" was struggling to prop himself up.

Gilgamesh's chest was caved in, a dent caused by the impact of the magic needle.

But he seemed oblivious to the pain, his gaze fixed intently on Sun Wukong, those once murky and crazed eyes...

The crimson streaks of blood were receding like the tide, replaced by a clarity that could freeze the air.

"Damn it..." Gilgamesh cursed under his breath, spitting a mouthful of golden blood onto his dusty boots.

Memories flooded his mind like a burst dam.

It wasn't the glory of Uruk, nor the majesty of the throne, but rather a series of nauseating images—he was like a puppet on a string.

His body was being controlled, and he was issuing commands to a group of ants.

That bastard named "Nanna" is using his name to perform a clownish dance in his own country.

Even if he were insane, even in this damned hospital, the king's pride would not allow such desecration.

“That… bastard.” Gilgamesh’s fingers dug deep into the cement slab, his nails breaking and bleeding from the force.

Sun Wukong didn't say anything, but simply flicked his staff and shook off the dust.

He tilted his head, his sharp eyes scrutinizing his prey, or perhaps confirming the effectiveness of the surgery.

【Ding--】

In the void, a notification sound rang out, audible only to a few people present.

Gilgamesh's healing progress: 100%

"Looks like he's awake." Sun Wukong grinned, a wild and untamed laugh.

This was nothing like the honest monk who usually only chanted "Amitabha." "This beating wasn't for nothing."

With trembling hands, Gilgamesh pulled out a palm-sized object from the lining of his tattered golden armor.

It was a black mud slab, its surface covered with scorch marks, like a fragment just rescued from a fire.

It was inscribed with some kind of ancient cuneiform script, radiating a chilling aura of power.

"then."

Gilgamesh didn't waste any words. He exerted force with his arm and flung the mud slab toward Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong raised his hand and scooped up the clay tablet, which landed steadily in his palm.

It felt cold to the touch, yet as heavy as a mountain.

“This is the only backup of that 'key'.” Gilgamesh gasped for breath, his eyes terrifyingly sinister.

"Take it out. Don't let that woman who uses my corpse to bully others... defile my treasures."

Sun Wukong looked down at the clay tablet in his hand, then looked up at the man who maintained his sitting posture even with only one breath left.

"Do you know what I, Old Sun, am going to do?" Sun Wukong weighed the clay tablet in his hand, a smile curving his lips.

“Murder.” Gilgamesh sneered.

"Or the god of slaughter. I am very familiar with that look. Thousands of years ago, I looked at those so-called gods in the same way."

Sun Wukong laughed.

That kind of laughter didn't belong to the compassion of the "Victorious Fighting Buddha," but rather to the arrogance of the "Great Sage Equal to Heaven."

"Deal." Sun Wukong tucked the clay tablet into his robes, turned his back to Gilgamesh, and said, "You can just lie here quietly, patient."

"Wild monkey!"

Gilgamesh suddenly called out behind him.

Sun Wukong paused in his steps.

"Once I've recovered from my injuries..."

Gilgamesh wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his fighting spirit rekindling in his eyes—a stubborn refusal to admit defeat.

"I will avenge that blow."

"Anytime."

Sun Wukong didn't even turn his head; he simply waved his hand.

The next second, his hand rested on the tattered yellow robe he was wearing.

"Wearing this thing makes it really inconvenient to fight."

There were no sacred ceremonies, nor any superfluous words.

"Tear-!"

The sound of tearing silk was crisp and piercing.

The robe that represented both bondage and conversion was torn to shreds by him like a piece of waste paper.

Yellow pieces of cloth fluttered in the wind, like withered leaves scattered across the sky.

The instant the robe left the body, a terrifying aura that made one's soul tremble erupted without reservation from that not-so-tall body.

Surrounded by ruins, Li Yifei and several caregivers, hiding behind cover, only felt a blur before their eyes.

It was as if I could see a giant beast that had broken free from its cage in the primordial era.

Crimson flames suddenly ignited, burning the fragments of the robe to ashes.

Amidst the raging flames, a set of dazzling golden chainmail armor seemed to grow out of thin air, clanging as it covered Sun Wukong's body.

The phoenix wings and purple-gold crown soared into the sky, its two long feathers fluttering wildly in the gale, slicing through the air with a sharp whistling sound.

A scarlet cloak, as red as blood, suddenly unfurled behind him, moving without wind, as if spreading out a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood behind him.

He is no longer the lukewarm patient.

He is the Demon King.

He is the Monkey King, who dares to tear a hole in the sky.

Sun Wukong slammed his golden cudgel down on the ground.

"Open it for me, Old Sun!"

With a loud shout, the void in front of him, like a fragile mirror, was instantly covered with cracks.

Immediately afterwards, the crack rapidly expanded and shattered, revealing a dark and deep spatial rift.

On the other side of the crack, there was endless yellow sand, a blood-red setting sun, and... a nauseating aura of the gods.

Sun Wukong stepped into the crevice.

The golden figure vanished into the darkness in an instant, leaving only a whisper that dissipated with the wind:

"Just wait and see how we smash those false gods to pieces."

Outside, in the ruins of Wucheng.

The wind seemed to have stopped.

The world-destroying spear named "Sky Boat," carrying enough kinetic energy to pierce through the continent, pierced straight towards the tiny figure on the ground.

Tali could even see the destructive runes flowing along the tip of the gun.

The scent of death froze her blood first. She tried to close her eyes, but found that fear had already made her eyelids slip out of control.

At this critical moment.

"Click."

That wasn't the sound of bones breaking.

That was the crisp sound of space shattering.

Just as the spear was about to touch Tali's nose, a dark crack suddenly tore open above her head.

Immediately afterwards, a stick was extended.

It was an ordinary-looking iron rod that, in that instant, stole all the brilliance from the world.

It stood there, like an insurmountable chasm.

"when--!!!"

The sound of metal colliding exploded instantly, and the resulting shockwave spread in a ring, leveling the ruins within a radius of 100 meters in an instant.

Tali felt a sharp pain in her eardrums, and was thrown into the air, crashing heavily into the sand.

When she struggled to lift her head, she saw a scene she would never forget.

The spear, which even the gods would avoid, was actually blocked by that stick, suspended in mid-air, unable to advance any further.

At the other end of the stick, a hand covered in golden monkey hair is casually holding it.

The owner of that hand turned his head slightly, and two phoenix wings of purple and gold drew a sharp arc in the air.

Those eyes, burning with golden flames, revealed a nonchalant killing intent.

Through the void, he looked straight up at the goddess high above in mid-air.

"Is this enough strength?"

Sun Wukong tilted his neck, and his joints cracked and popped.

He didn't look at Tali behind him, nor at Lin Qiye in the distance. His gaze passed through Inanna and looked further away—there.

The corpse of a hero-king, who should have been dead, slowly turned its head, its lifeless face...

Seemingly because of this sudden change, he showed a very incongruous look of astonishment.

Sun Wukong grinned, revealing his gleaming white fangs.

"You dare call yourself king?"