It's so painful! So hard! So difficult!

"Aren't we always... doing that?"

Bai Lin asked a few more words, while Xiao Nuo looked at him calmly, and a faint smile on the corner of his mouth outlined another sentence.

"You, idiot, aren't you referring to that Hero's Bar? Don't be so ridiculous. I've already said that it's just a joke battlefield."

As she spoke, Xiao Nuo made a surprising move. She clenched her fist, widened her eyes, and moved a little closer to Bai Lin, who was kneeling on the ground. She used her eyes to penetrate Bai Lin's soul, making him feel as if he was being held captive and told something.

"So pitiful and weak! Don't you understand? This is a war between worlds. Every enemy carries an entire world on their shoulders! Whether it's the mischievous girl, the iron-blooded musketeer, the instigated cook, the fragile princess of the last descent... the bastard, the king who reigns supreme, everyone! They all inevitably carry the immense weight of the entire world."

"You want to be the lion that devours the other guests? Or perhaps you want to be the next Chinese meal? Oh... People like you may not even be qualified for that. After all, you haven't experienced anything firsthand yet. Even if something were to happen, I wouldn't give you any chance."

As she spoke, Xiao Nuo burst into laughter. Her laughter was loud and unbridled, the most brilliant expression Bai Lin had ever seen on her face. But the smile itself wasn't beautiful at all, because the person laughing didn't really have the heart to laugh. Enjoyment? Madness? It wasn't an emotion that could be pinned down. Perhaps she didn't even know why she was laughing.

As if feeling that the darkness around her did not respond to her smile, Bai Lin just stared at her. Xiao Nuo's laughter stopped abruptly, and then she showed an expression of extreme disgust for a moment, but it was also fleeting. She sighed, then stopped looking at Bai Lin and walked towards the door.

"Poor, feeble human... Because of your immortal body, you seem bound to watch the world you cherish slowly crumble before your own eyes. If you still have the courage to challenge me when I return, I will grant you a quick death and eternal death. I respect enemies who deserve respect, even if they are insignificant maggots."

Just as she had suddenly launched an attack, she was about to leave. But when she was about to open the door and leave, a sudden voice came out from Bai Lin's mouth.

"You...are you Xiao Nuo? No, who are you?"

At the call, the departing steps came to an abrupt halt. "Xiao Nuo" turned her head and glanced at Bai Lin again. Even in the moonlight streaming in through the window, her face was still clearly visible, and one could clearly feel the moon-like whiteness.

But the mysterious aura that seemed older than the moon gradually drowned out all Bai Lin's memories of her. Those deep red eyes seemed to be silently lamenting, like a candlelight that was about to go out, gradually wiping out the last light in the room. She only opened her mouth slightly, and in an old tone, she spoke,

"We once held different identities in our respective worlds. Whether gods or demons, kings or bandits, the depths of our souls are all marked by the past, each one bearing the marks of time."

"But our past, like a joke, has been casually erased from our sight by others. We are adrift, without support, and even the most powerful have become refugees. We are constantly forgetting everything, our minds twisted, gradually forgetting everything we once had and experienced. We are left without a trace, and everything we have is taken away. It's as if nothing ever happened, not even a grain of sand remains."

"Today, people don't know our past. We are creatures from another world, gradually being forgotten. We are all losers, having lost everything we had. Our hearts and minds are rotting, our glory is gone. Even our names are no longer mentioned by others. In people's mouths, only an empty title remains: Dusk God."

After saying this, the emotion of remembrance and sympathy in his eyes vanished in an instant. In its place was the face of the Goddess of Dusk, a face that no one could ever accept, a face that could never be seen clearly, could never be remembered.

The door creaked shut, Xiao Nuo raised his hand, left a few spells, and disappeared.

-

"Poet, is this really okay? It's not that I doubt your ability to predict the future, but... doesn't it sound too simple?"

Sharpe asked. He, along with five other dark knights and the poet, was in the same enclosed space. He bent slightly, his other hand grasping a ceiling handle, seemingly to steady himself.

Chapter 998 Tram

The surroundings seemed to be completely painted with the purest color of platinum. The ceiling, the floor, the window sills, the walls, the entire long elevator car was composed of a single color...

Even the "people" besides them were all the same color. They were fixed here like sculptures, standing quietly or sitting on chairs nearby.

If Bai Lin, far away at this moment, were to witness this scene, he would surely have felt a sense of familiarity. This was a city train. Trams, subways, elevated railways—these public transportation options familiar to modern people—were all city trains. Commonly known as "buses," or buses, also had a similar structure.

Yes, it's a train, a commuter train.

"Don't be too nervous, Shar-Pei. You've already experienced enough of the so-called chaos. Even if you're facing a perfect person this time, it won't be any different from before."

The poet spoke calmly, her words never containing too much comfort, but expounding on the extremely plain facts.

The train pulled out of the dark tunnel. White sunlight streamed in, revealing the entire scene to everyone inside the train car:

Like the Central European style of the 17th century and beyond, the layout is precise and elegant, yet also feels a bit airy. The architectural charm seems to depict a rich sense of splendor, interspersed with a sense of pilgrimage. Like a spoonful of cream from a monastery, it is sweet and delicious, and for some reason, it inevitably evokes associations with the divine.

The vast city stretches endlessly. Even from the train, where one can overlook much of the landscape, one can't see its end. It feels like a completely different world from before, with an added sense of invisible oppression. This seems to be due to the nearly pure white color scheme. It seems to disrupt the light, making it difficult to see clearly, yet unable to distinguish reality from illusion.

Smoke billowed from the factories. The streets were deserted. Only transport vehicles, resembling trucks, moved back and forth, making one wonder if there were any living beings living here.

Oh, or maybe that unexpected divine feeling was brought about by the fact that there was no one here.

Shapi didn't change his expression at this scene, as he had obviously seen the whole city. He just asked,

"But... isn't this too big? Are we really supposed to memorize every key point in the battle and kill everyone with our own hands?"

The poet did not answer immediately, but just looked at the sun in the sky, as if waiting for something. After a long while, she said,

"If we charge into the highest palace, the number of enemies that can rush in at once will be limited. Before that, the battles we have to fight won't be many, and we can employ some techniques to mitigate them without suffering too many losses. Once inside the palace, you must remember every detail I've mentioned before, and do your best to avoid taking any damage. A quick and decisive battle is essential."

"Although the Perfect People have a large number of elite soldiers, and each of them is as powerful as you, you have me. You have eyes that can see into the future. If handled properly, enemies of the same or lower level will be nothing more than numbers. I have already given specific instructions for those who are stronger."

"This city is so large, and with their surveillance network, setting up bombs and then attacking is impossible. Our ability to sneak in here is the only loophole I can foresee. Besides, we can't bomb everyone. For the Land of Perfect People, that is, this Platinum City, bombs are no different from our bare hands."

The poet explained everything carefully. She knew when to tell the story and how to give people a reassuring message.

"As you can see, there aren't many useful creatures here. Can you communicate with any of them? Those beings with intelligence are completely brainwashed, with no way to break through. Although a few have independent individual thoughts, they are all the perfect Lord... that is, the closest relative of You."

As he spoke, the poet walked to Shar-Pei's side, patted his shoulder with one hand, and stretched out the window with the other hand, as if showing everything.

"Just imagine, by the king's side, you are one of the masters of this entire city. Such a large amount of magic crystals are constantly being produced. Almost anything you want can be achieved. As long as you can imagine it."

"Your appetite for food, wealth, sleep, sex, even the desire to kill—everything will be satisfied. Even if you can't leave the city often to travel far away, the simulated world created by magic crystals can turn everything you imagine into reality. Imagine if it were you, would you be provoked?"

In this unshakable land, his infamy spread across the continent, he made countless enemies, all of whom were annihilated. Under the radiance of the Perfect King, who did not personally walk the earth, yet seemed to be everywhere, he would never fall. This wealth would only grow, with no possibility of disappearing.

So, do we still need to think about whether to offer eternal loyalty?

"Uh… I can't imagine."

Shapi thought for a moment, and finally answered honestly. When everything in his imagination could become reality, it would be another kind of life that he could never imagine. The poet nodded.

"So, relying on our own hands is the best and most arbitrary strategy. Don't worry, Shar-Pei."

"And you all, there's no need to be nervous. As always, if something were to happen, I would have told you in advance."

The poet looked at the dark knights and said so. After that, including herself, the team of seven, in total, blended into the life of this city that seemed to be devoid of living people. They all waited, waited for the final battle that all this had happened.

Light and shadow flickered, weaving within the white carriage. And the arrival at the final stop would eventually arrive. The train door slowly opened before them, illuminating the knights, each clad in black armor, their figures varied, yet their goal united. With a gleam of black light, they emerged from the darkness of the carriage into the world's presence.

Their goal is very clear.

What they faced, however, was something even more glittering, physically speaking. In the glare of daylight, rows of perfect men, neatly lined up in battle formation, aimed their magic cannons at the people in front of them. They crouched in formation, their cannons piercing through the human wall. Clearly, they had set an ambush, waiting for the crowd to appear.

Chapter 999 What a pity

This wasn't a world of reason; there wouldn't be any persuasion like, "Drop your weapons, stop resisting, you're surrounded." Almost the moment they confirmed the situation, countless cannons simultaneously unleashed a burst of flames.

At the same time, the figures of the Dark Knights flashed away. In a moment, only the poet remained.

She unhurriedly pulled a slightly yellowed sheet of paper from behind her waist. It was swiftly thrown into the air, obscuring the intense daylight. Delicate handwriting appeared out of thin air, etched with the traces of fate. In the sunlight, they flashed like shooting stars, passing by.

And the gears of fate began to turn.

Before the poet, the artillery fire seemed to have been distorted by some spatial distortion, deviating from its original trajectory. They instantly collided, unleashing a powerful burst of heat. The heat wave only reached her face, blowing a few strands of her hair. On the other side, however, the scene was as counter-scientific as it was, overwhelming the Perfect People's defenses.

The fierce explosion exceeded the expected level of defense, and in an instant, their formation was blown apart.

"Writing my fate in broad daylight... is indeed a bold move. But you, who didn't anticipate this, certainly underestimated my resolve. It seems my decision to pass this message on to you has been a completely profitable one."

The poet spoke calmly as she drew her own blade. A rainbow of light streaked across the sun's crack, and her figure flashed forth simultaneously. The curtain of flames at this moment undoubtedly provided the perfect cover for everyone. Thus, the dark knights and she, almost simultaneously, attacked the Perfect Man, who had just lost his formation.

Taking advantage of the gap, they inflicted a crushing defeat on the enemy. The poet's power immediately threw the Perfects into disarray, leaving them like lambs to the slaughter. Their advantages in numbers and terrain were naturally lost. A vast amount of flesh, blood, and fish carcasses flew out at the knights' blades. They didn't resort to prayer directly, but instead tried their best to maintain their condition.

At the same time, they attacked, leaving two others to hold their ground and secure the area of ​​the battlefield. The poet, after a brief clash, quickly retreated to the rear of the established area. She used the tip of her knife to pick up the corpses of the Perfect Men, and the platinum attached to them quickly disintegrated, transforming into streams of light that flew towards the poet's body.

Platinum itself is a crystal of extremely strong magical energy, usable by anyone. Of course, it can be used as a weapon, but it can also be used in reverse, acting as a time bomb around you. Perfect people cannot fail to consider this.

Just like the principle Bai Lin used to defeat Araniah's platinum ship, this is inherently related to the caster's control ability. It is no different from the universal magic in the atmosphere. If other spellcasters have a deeper understanding of magic and are more proficient in it, they can call upon more magic and more easily interfere with others' magic.

On the other hand, if the caster is skilled enough, they can ensure that their own magic power is not used by others. Therefore, the troops of the Perfect People are strictly required to use spells within certain specifications, so as to ensure the stability and strength of their army. Now that they are corpses, the platinum they leave behind can naturally be used recklessly.

Beyond that, platinum that has been used to forge instruments or physical objects, such as armor and buildings, is naturally uncontrolled. Perfect people will apply extremely complex encryption, completely locking it down. To use an analogy, the outermost layer of encryption is like a constantly floating MD5 code, requiring an analyzer to simultaneously complete a reverse analysis of it before it can be fully analyzed.

We all know that MD5 codes cannot be parsed. The only way to do this is to retrieve the original text from a database and then perform a reverse comparison. It's impossible for a single parser to understand all the original formulas; few people have the experience. Furthermore, after moving on to the next level of parsing, you must maintain the first level of parsing, otherwise it will fail.

The layers of encryption are more and more, and people naturally have their own way of applying them. This can ensure that the city’s buildings are safe enough, and the armor on their bodies and the weapons in their hands are reliable and powerful enough.

But they were easily resolved and accepted by the poet in such a casual manner.

"What?! What did I see? Wow, this is too much. That fortune teller absorbed the platinum? This is too bad. Could she even decompose buildings?"

A young woman whose appearance made Bai Lin feel extremely similar, yet somewhat unfamiliar, sat in a room that looked like a surveillance room, slapping the table in front of her with an exaggerated expression. She was obviously shocked. Who wouldn't be shocked when seeing this scene?

While platinum is the embodiment of magic and an energy entity, it's still a solid substance, primarily used to construct external spells and difficult to absorb into the body. Seeing the poet devour it like this was like a normal person watching a monster instantly drain a power station. Such an impact is beyond the ability of the average body to withstand.

Besides, as we just mentioned, encryption is a problem. This is like someone taking one look at your computer and hacking it. It's so easy to do that, how can it not be shocking?

However, the woman in the monitoring room did not seem to be panicking at all. Instead, she seemed a little excited and agitated, as if her interest had been piqued. She looked at the poet on the screen and commented,

"Fortunately, she still has an upper limit. This is really a pity."

Indeed, the poet's actions ceased after she had emptied the corpse from the ground. However, such a vast magical power was enough to surpass anyone's imagination. Coupled with her ability to write fate to a certain extent, it left everyone feeling unpredictable.

Currently, no one knew if the poet's abilities had any limits. This venue was nothing more than a natural reservoir of magic power for the poet, only making the battle for the perfect people more difficult. Therefore, the perfect people now had only one tactic to choose from.

"Quantity"—victory through quantity. Whether releasing abilities or absorbing mana, even a brief moment of time is required. Only when the poet leaves no time for these actions can they prevail.

Chapter 1000 Blood and Flowers

If you don't know the limit of an ability, just don't activate it.

Outside the station, a white-gold crowd filled the Dark Knights' field of vision. They no longer stood in neat rows, or rather, there was no point in doing so. When infantry launched a charge, breaking up the enemy's defenses was the most important priority, not defensive tactics.

In the blink of an eye, their armor, along with their cold white skin, which shone like platinum, transformed. They seemed to form exoskeletons, replacing much of their original body structure. Horse feet, scorpion tails, crocodile mouths, and other unrecognizable features of otherworldly creatures emerged from their bodies.

The word "perfect" in the Chinese character "perfect" stands for completeness and perfection. By analyzing and extracting the genes of countless organisms, evolving, integrating, and sublimating them, they achieve the ultimate state of perfection, fine-tuning the ultimate organisms and reaching a supreme race. This is the reason for the name "perfect people" and is also their ultimate aspiration.

Before reaching true perfection, they exploited the strengths of other creatures as a byproduct. Because they used highly manipulable equipment like the magical crystal "Platinum," harnessing the genes of other creatures was a simple task. Each soldier was assigned a specific genetic modification.

Perhaps it sounded like just a vast alien army. In this bizarre and strange world, it wasn't a particularly powerful attribute. But in reality, the "racial characteristics" of this world were extremely terrifying.

For example, a poet's ability to foresee the future and alter fate is a genuine racial ability. Sleeplessness is merely a secondary attribute. Elves excel at everything, especially mastering magic to the extreme, a characteristic of theirs.

Of course, not every perfect person possesses genes at this level. With characteristics, there are naturally weaknesses.

However, with such a large number of people, who can truly determine each other's characteristics and grasp their weaknesses? There are too many abilities that can kill on first sight, and the Dark Knights with equal abilities will only increasingly expose their own abilities, leading to an information asymmetry. So from this perspective, the Perfects still have the upper hand...

Millions of troops rushed forward. This time, there were no more flame curtains or surprises; the Dark Knights couldn't afford to take the enemy by surprise. They were about to be drawn into a bitter battle. Yet, none of them showed any sign of fear. Some even smiled faintly.

Crimson blood, gleaming with platinum brilliance, splattered onto the ground, coating the snow-white world. This was the first scene to unfold after the head-on collision between the two sides. Or rather, it wasn't enough to be called a "clash," simply the Dark Knights slaughtering each other with ease once again.

Ivan's two serrated blades met, and he sank into the ground like a drop into water, splashing a dark mist. With a grab, he dug the Centaur's front hooves into the ground, then leaped out of the water, severing it in two, and then flew even faster into the wall to the side.

The burly man, Ju Men, stretched out his arms, wielding a drum-like hammer with one hand, striking it forward. With his other hand, he wielded a massive iron ball, nearly as large as his own body. Then, a giant wheel, summoned by his prayer, appeared, charging forward with him. His charging form, like a fleeting tank, instantly crushed the bat-winged Perfect Man before him.

Our long-haired man, on the other hand, chuckled, wielding a nine-section staff in one hand, slashing horizontally and vertically, instantly knocking an elephant-shaped Perfect Man off balance. He then transformed the staff into a whole, his body instantly merging with the blazing black light, before splitting into countless pieces and knocking back several flying wolf-shaped Perfect Men.

The Dark Knights continued their devastating slaughter. Although the enemy's advance had caused some confusion on their side, the situation was still in their favor. And the cause of all this was still the woman, gently holding a piece of paper in one hand and a knife in the other.

When it comes to intelligence, who can surpass the fortuneteller? She meticulously explains the characteristics of every enemy each person will encounter, one-on-one. Memorizing the characteristics of every creature in the world is nearly impossible, and the Dark Knights don't have that kind of experience.

But if you only memorize the hundreds of possible scenarios you'll encounter in this battle, that sounds like a lot more drama, doesn't it? It's like giving you the exam questions in advance and you just have to memorize the answers.

A perfect, bull-like being, scattering its allies, charged directly at the poet, seemingly unstoppable. Our tan-haired sister, Sphia, swooped in at the perfect moment, a massive chainsaw in hand, laughing as she engaged the opponent. Though she was thrown far away, the opponent's momentum was noticeably diminished.

The mortal body resisting the chainsaw's devastating blow was still excruciating, and the opponent was momentarily unable to muster any strength to charge again. Meanwhile, Sphia held the saw with one hand, her other hand thrust out like a claw, and in the blink of an eye, she passed through the bull-shaped man. The next moment, the mountain-like figure collapsed completely, and the poet dodged with a sidestep, avoiding another attack.

Meanwhile, Shar-Pei used his small sickle and chain to hook a large number of enemies, twisting his body to tighten the chain. Kingfisher leaped out, holding two giant battle axes.

With a throw and a charge, the black light absorbed the blood and magic power absorbed by the flying axe, increasing her speed and the power of her leap. In the blink of an eye, she turned into a meat grinder, crushing all the living things restrained by the Shar-Pei.

The knights each displayed their own prowess. They each had their own enemies to contend with, clearing the way for the poet. The poet, on the other hand, slowly paced the blood-soaked battlefield. Spattering blood stained the paper in her hands and landed on her armor. She softly opened her mouth and began to chant.

The cold poem was turned page by page. The melodious and almost ethereal melody seemed like a dirge, filled with the heavy atmosphere of dusk that obscured the sun.

At some point, raindrops began to fall from the sky, mixing with the blood splattering everywhere. On the one hand, they washed away the sins on the battlefield, and on the other hand, they caused the blood and corpses to flow far and wide, and made scarlet flowers bloom all over the mountains and plains.

Chapter 1001 Broken Path

She walked past the ruined platinum holy wall, treading on the broken path soaked in blood, her steps graceful and resolute, as if she were simply strolling through the ordinary. She merged with the rain, and even the chanting from her heart was just a feeling of being apart from it.

After all, the rain from the sky is not part of the battle.

The poet marched relentlessly forward, treading the path blazed by the Dark Knights. Her practice and poetry seemed surprisingly harmonious on this battlefield. Even the occasional swing of her blade seemed seamlessly harmonious. The blood on the blade's tip and on her body became an incomparably harmonious part of her being.

After this situation persisted for a while, the mostly defeated Perfect Warriors seemed to realize something was amiss. Even though the poet hadn't chanted before using his ability, this behavior was incredibly frightening, making every Perfect Warrior realize that if the poet continued, something unpredictable would likely happen. Furthermore, if the current situation on the front lines persisted, defeat was the only outcome.

Then, from behind those tall buildings, giant machines began to appear. Machines with the same appearance as the "Platinum Ship" that Bai Lin had seen Araniah control earlier—or rather, exactly the same thing—were shuttled out from the buildings.

As the concentration of magic power in the air increased, an overwhelming sense of oppression spread towards the people on the ground. However, no one, whether knight or perfect person, had time to observe the situation.

The only poet who had some free time didn't even spare a glance at the giant instruments. She simply continued to chant softly and pinched the paper in her hand. The rain and blood shattered it, leaving scars on the already shapeless paper.

The poet's voice was ethereal, yet amidst the chaos of a battlefield where no one should have paid attention to it, anyone who paid close attention could clearly hear it. And on that material, which could barely be called paper, lay a "poem," visible to anyone who paid even the slightest attention, formed by the traces left on the paper by everything on the battlefield.

Marennia, noticing this from behind the screen, instinctively gasped. A chill ran through her body, instantly pausing her thoughts. And what happened next was even more shocking.

A flood of explosive flames instantly filled the entire Platinum City. First, a building collapsed, striking the side of a Platinum Warship, slightly shifting its center of gravity and triggering the pre-read spell. Intense flames struck another warship, causing it to fall forward and to the ground, becoming completely engulfed in another curtain of flames.

Some machines inexplicably self-destructed, leaving only the unknown to the operators within. Perhaps the infiltration of rainwater, by a twist of fate, could be transformed into a sharp weapon, like a butterfly flapping its wings, ushering in a storm of death. For those ships destroyed by other machines, their demise might be even more immediate.

But no matter what, the final outcome was the same. In just a few tens of seconds, the dozen or so platinum warships that had troubled Bai Lin were all dissipated in the flames of the explosion.

This situation left Marennia unsure how to react. She stared at the screen for a long time, remaining silent until a cold female voice interrupted her thoughts.