Slaying God: I, the insane and witty god

No sooner had number 22 finished wailing than she threw that thigh bone at her like a dart.

It grazed Lin Qiye's scalp and flew into the darkness behind him.

Immediately afterwards, a bolt of lightning crashed to the ground.

The massive shockwave sent the surrounding rocks flying like bullets.

The Netherworld Bone Dragon was just about to open its mouth and chew up Number 22 like a snack

Before he could even scream, a warhammer crackling with raging lightning smashed him from the top of his head to his tailbone.

Snap—whoosh.

The once arrogant behemoth was instantly shattered into a pile of white bone fragments.

As the smoke cleared, Thor, holding Mjolnir in one hand, pulled the swaying Sif into his arms with the other.

Although the armor was tattered and worn, it was now crackling with lightning.

They managed to make this gloomy underworld dungeon look like a golden palace of the gods.

"It's alright now," Thor said softly, his voice even trembling slightly.

"I smashed them all."

Sif buried her face in his breastplate, said nothing, her shoulders trembling.

The suffocating sense of oppression seemed to dissipate considerably with that hammer blow.

Even those colossal beasts that hadn't yet fully emerged from the mountain of corpses...

Their movements slowed down, as if they were stunned by this divine power.

"Is this... finished?"

Wu Hen got up from the ground, patted the dirt off his backside, and looked somewhat incredulous.

"This is way too easy! I thought I'd have to take two people down with me."

Lin Qiye didn't respond, but just stared at Thor's back, his brows furrowed into a knot.

It went so smoothly.

If it were a normal dungeon, the results screen should be up by now.

But this is the underworld, the mythical hell where even the dead plot against each other.

"Pah, pah, pah."

A sudden burst of applause came from above.

Everyone looked up suddenly.

Two figures stood on the highest rock at the edge of the pit.

A man dressed in a long emerald green robe, twirling a golden dagger in his hand.

He had that mocking smile on his face that made you want to punch him hard on the nose.

The other was shrouded in black deathly aura, with only half of its face being exquisite flesh and the other half being withered bones.

Loki, the god of mischief, and Hela, the goddess of death.

"Brilliant, truly brilliant." Loki looked down at the group of "old, weak, sick, and disabled" at the bottom of the pit, his dagger twirling rapidly between his fingers.

"I couldn't help but shed a couple of tears for this touching reunion."

"Don't you think so, my dear daughter?"

Hela didn't laugh; she simply raised her skeletal hand slightly.

Rumbling--

The mountain of corpses that had been intimidated by Thor suddenly became violent, as if they had been injected with a stimulant.

And it wasn't just those twelve; from the depths of darkness in the distance, even more muffled sounds emanated in unison.

"You think you can just smash a little lizard and leave?" Loki laughed so hard he almost fell over.

"Sol, my good brother, look around."

"These big guys combined are enough to crush your Asgard like a cookie."

"With just a snap of Hela's fingers, you'll turn into bits of flesh between their teeth."

Thor gripped the hammer tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Sif trembled slightly in his arms.

The sense of relief I felt after surviving the ordeal vanished instantly, replaced by a deeper despair.

It's like climbing out of a fire pit and looking up to find it's raining knives outside.

"Don't listen to his nonsense." Lin Qiye suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but as calm as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.

"He's stalling for time."

He turned to look at number 22 behind him: "Can we leave?"

Number 22 was huddled in a corner, panting heavily, when he heard this...

His face was deathly pale as he shook the half-bone in his hand, which resembled a scepter: "No... I overexerted myself too much just now, it's backed up..."

The scepter, which had once emitted a faint glow, was now dull and lifeless.

It was even subtly absorbing the already meager life force of Number 22.

The teleportation channel is closed.

"Then there's nothing we can do." Wu Hen licked his chapped lips, twirling his long sword in his hand.

"Let's just charge in."

"Charge? Charge with your head?" Loki heard the commotion below and laughed even harder.

"Stop struggling, why not just obediently become nourishment? This is an honor that many mortals would rather die for."

As he spoke, he leaned forward slightly, as if wanting to admire the contorted expressions on these people's faces as they faced death.

Just at this moment.

There were no signs, and no energy fluctuations whatsoever.

There wasn't even a wisp of wind.

Tyr, the God of War who had been standing silently behind Thor, suddenly had his shadow twist in a strange way.

It's like a drop of ink falling into clear water, quickly spreading and stretching.

A figure so dark it almost blended into the background.

Like a venomous snake shot out from the deepest part of hell, it silently darted out from Tyr's shadow.

too fast.

It was so fast that even a god of Thor's caliber didn't blink.

puff.

A soft sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh.

Loki's smug smile hadn't even faded yet.

A pure black, non-reflective short blade had already pierced his back and emerged from his chest.

This is not finished.

The dark figure flipped its wrist with an extremely cunning move, then flicked it upwards.

A head that was still grinning foolishly flew off, and blood spurted out three meters high like a fountain.

Loki's headless corpse swayed, like a puppet with its strings cut, before plunging straight into the bottomless pit.

Deathly silence.

The mountain of corpses, which had been roaring and howling just moments before, seemed to have been silenced; even the wind stopped.

Hela maintained that raised hand posture, her skeletal eyes wide open as if about to burst, yet she dared not move an inch.

Thor turned around abruptly, his pupils shrinking to the size of pinpoints.

Everyone is stupid.

That was Loki! The god of mischief, the toughest guy to kill in Asgard, just like that... gone?

The dark figure did not linger in the fight; after landing a successful blow, it landed lightly on a protruding rock.

He wore a tattered black cloak and a half-mask without any patterns on his face.

Those exposed eyes showed no emotion, not even the pleasure of killing.

There was no tension, just like when I casually swatted a mosquito.

He flicked the blood off the blade, a practiced movement that sent chills down one's spine.

As he moved, a corner of the hem of his cloak, which was being blown by the wind, flipped up.

There should have been some kind of mark there, but it seems to have been wiped away forcefully, leaving only a blurry trace.

But even in the dim light, Lin Qiye could still make out the faint number.

"27".

A chill ran down my spine and straight to the top of my head.

Lin Qiye and Wu Hen exchanged a glance, both seeing shock in each other's eyes.

This number, this method of killing from the shadows,

And that suffocating sense of oppression... it's definitely not something native to the underworld, and it doesn't even belong to this system of gods.

"Now..." Wu Hen swallowed hard, his voice extremely low.

"We're in big trouble."