Chapter 66: Red Days
The moment the booming voice exploded across the heavens of the Tiny Cultivation World, nobody had enough time to react properly.
The cultivators who had gathered near the forbidden Silent River Hill all carried different thoughts before that moment.
Some were afraid.
Some were doubtful.
Some were greedy.
Some were arrogant.
Some truly believed they could challenge whatever mysterious existence lived within the forbidden region.
After all, the Heaven Cleaving Sect and the Nether Corpse Sect were not weak sects.
They were major powers.
They ruled countless territories.
They controlled numerous cities.
Their disciples numbered in the millions.
Their elders could split mountains.
Their ancestors could shake continents.
Meanwhile, many of the cultivators gathered there possessed powerful treasures passed down for generations.
Several carried life saving talismans.
Others possessed defensive treasures capable of blocking attacks from Nascent Soul cultivators.
A few even carried Spirit Transformation treasures borrowed from their sects.
Because of those treasures, many of them secretly believed they had enough confidence to at least survive.
Unfortunately for them...
They were wrong.
Very wrong.
The moment Clayne shouted from outside the Tiny World, the entire heaven of that region shook violently.
The clouds trembled.
The mountains trembled.
The rivers trembled.
Even space itself seemed to distort.
Then came the shockwave.
It spread across the heavens like an invisible tsunami.
No colors.
No techniques.
No spiritual arts.
No profound manifestations.
There was only destruction.
Pure destruction.
The Heaven Cleaving Sect elder who had been shouting moments ago was the first one to notice something wrong.
His pupils shrank.
His sword intent shattered.
Every instinct inside his body screamed.
Danger.
Extreme danger.
Unavoidable danger.
Before he could even form another thought, the invisible wave touched him.
His body exploded instantly.
There was no resistance.
No heroic struggle.
No last words.
His flesh turned into blood mist.
His bones turned into powder.
His Nascent Soul disappeared without leaving behind even a fragment.
One moment he existed.
The next moment he was gone.
The disciples behind him immediately panicked.
Several attempted fleeing.
Several activated flying swords.
Several burned their life force to escape.
Several activated escape talismans.
None of it mattered.
The shockwave swept through them mercilessly.
One disciple riding a flying sword suddenly noticed his arm disappearing.
Then his chest disappeared.
Then his head disappeared.
The flying sword beneath him shattered into countless fragments before becoming dust.
Another disciple activated a golden defensive shield inherited from his grandfather.
The shield had protected him countless times throughout his cultivation journey.
It had blocked Core Formation attacks.
It had blocked Nascent Soul attacks.
It had saved his life more than once.
The moment the shockwave touched it, cracks spread across its surface.
The next moment the shield exploded.
The disciple exploded together with it.
Meanwhile, the Nether Corpse Sect fared no better.
Massive demonic coffins shattered apart.
Several corpse dragons that had taken centuries to refine exploded into rotten flesh.
Thousands of demonic cultivators screamed.
The screams only lasted briefly.
Because soon their bodies followed.
One after another.
Thousands.
Tens of thousands.
Entire formations vanished.
Entire armies disappeared.
The sky that had been crowded with cultivators moments ago became filled with blood mist.
Flying swords rained from the heavens.
Broken coffins fell from the sky.
Pieces of treasures scattered everywhere.
Even Nascent Soul experts died like ants.
A bald elder from the Nether Corpse Sect immediately activated a spatial escape talisman.
The talisman burned.
Space cracked open.
A portal appeared.
The elder almost laughed from relief.
Then the shockwave arrived.
The portal shattered.
The elder shattered.
Everything shattered.
Only a handful survived.
A very small handful.
Perhaps less than twenty cultivators remained alive after everything ended.
Those survivors floated silently in the ruined sky.
Several had lost limbs.
Several were bleeding.
Several looked as though they had aged hundreds of years.
The Spirit Transformation treasures protecting them had become cracked and damaged.
Without those treasures, they would have died together with everyone else.
Silence filled the heavens.
Nobody dared speak.
Nobody dared move.
The armies were gone.
The disciples were gone.
The elders were gone.
The experts were gone.
Everything was gone.
One surviving cultivator slowly lowered his head.
His entire body trembled.
His soul trembled.
His cultivation trembled.
His courage trembled.
Then slowly...
He knelt.
Not because someone ordered him.
Not because someone forced him.
But because he no longer possessed the courage to remain standing.
The others followed.
One after another.
All of them knelt toward Silent River Hill.
Toward the forbidden region.
Toward the place where the mysterious deity lived.
Because now they understood.
That existence was not something they could challenge.
Not something they could understand.
Not something they could provoke.
From this day forward, the legend of the Silent River Hill Deity would spread throughout the cultivation world.
A deity who could erase armies with a single shout.
A deity who could kill Nascent Soul cultivators as easily as breathing.
A deity whose anger could wipe out entire sects.
Meanwhile...
The deity himself could not care less.
Clayne completely ignored whatever happened inside the Tiny World.
To him, they had merely been noisy.
That was all.
The moment they stopped talking, he immediately lost interest.
His attention quickly returned toward the far more immediate problem.
The insects.
The insects below his school.
The insects that were continuously gathering beneath the building.
Without hesitation, Clayne immediately placed several remaining pieces of dried mango inside the Silent River Hill once again to gain spiritual Qi and be tampered by heavenly tribulations.
The reaction was fast, it just went like a click and sizzle and soon, heavy dark clouds began gathering like last time.
Lightning began crackling.
Tiny heavenly tribulations appeared once more.
Meanwhile, the surviving cultivators throughout the Tiny World nearly fainted from fear.
The deity was doing something again.
Nobody dared approach.
Nobody dared investigate.
Several surviving cultivators immediately fled thousands of miles away.
Meanwhile, Clayne remained completely unconcerned.
His focus had already shifted toward reality.
The insects were still approaching.
Beetles.
Centipedes.
Mutated rats.
Spiders.
Cockroaches.
Thousands upon thousands of them.
The sight alone was enough to make ordinary people despair.
Immediately, Clayne removed the chips from the center of the formation.
Then he carefully replaced them with heavenly tribulation dried mango.
The effect was immediate.
The formation brightened dramatically.
The mist thickened.
Spiritual energy surged.
The entire school building vanished beneath layers upon layers of dense white fog.
The concealment array became stronger than ever before.
The insects that had been approaching suddenly became confused.
Several stopped moving.
Several turned around.
Several began fighting one another.
Others wandered aimlessly.
The formation was working.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
Unfortunately, not every creature became affected.
Several giant beetles continued climbing.
Several rats squeezed through tiny openings.
Several insects somehow reached the upper floors.
Whenever that happened, Clayne personally dealt with them.
Tile fragments shot forward.
Heads exploded.
Bodies fell.
Then he immediately returned to maintaining the formation.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Hours passed.
The red sky remained.
The roars outside continued endlessly.
The city remained a battlefield.
Undead fought beasts.
Beasts fought insects.
Insects fought one another.
The apocalypse devoured itself continuously.
Meanwhile, Clayne never relaxed.
Every time the formation weakened, he reinforced it.
Every time the mist thinned, he strengthened it.
Every time creatures approached, he drove them away.
Several times he nearly collapsed.
Several times he nearly fell asleep.
Several times his vision became blurry.
Yet he continued.
Because if the formation failed even once...
Everything would be over.
The monsters outside would discover him.
And he knew he was not strong enough yet.
One day passed.
Then two.
Then three.
Then four.
Then five.
Five entire days.
Five days maintaining the formation.
Five days cultivating whenever possible.
Five days eliminating creatures that slipped through.
Five days without proper rest.
Five days of constant vigilance.
Gradually, the sky began changing.
The crimson color slowly faded.
The giant insects became fewer.
The giant beasts disappeared.
The endless roars weakened.
Even the undead hordes gradually thinned.
The terrifying phenomenon that had engulfed the city finally began ending.
Inside the fourth floor hallway, Clayne sat cross-legged beside the formation.
His face looked exhausted.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His body felt heavy.
His mind felt numb.
Yet he continued watching.
Watching.
Waiting.
Making sure nothing unexpected happened.
Eventually...
The red sky disappeared completely.
The sounds of battle faded.
The city became strangely quiet.
The formation stabilized itself.
The mist continued functioning normally without requiring constant adjustments.
Only then did Clayne finally allow himself to relax.
A long breath escaped his mouth.
His shoulders loosened.
The tension that had accumulated throughout five entire days finally disappeared.
Then slowly...
Clayne fell backward onto the cold floor.
His entire body felt heavier than stone.
His eyelids became difficult to keep open.
His thoughts became sluggish.
Finally...
After five exhausting days of keeping himself alive...
After five exhausting days of maintaining the formation...
After five exhausting days of surviving another stage of the apocalypse...
Clayne was completely exhausted.
