A Gamble

It seemed no miracle had occurred. Tang Chuan, who had charged forward to fight with his last breath of spirit, was still crushed by False Misfortune's omnipotent power.

He had failed to inflict any harm on his opponent. Every attack had been neutralized by that power, while he himself had been grievously wounded beyond measure, with barely any strength left to fight.

The surroundings were filled with surging omnipotent divine power, carrying boundless killing intent. Once Tang Chuan's power was crushed, only the last wisp of his consciousness remained. He had clearly fallen into a certain death trap.

Even the form of his body had been erased. The traces of his existence were like a candle guttering in the wind, on the verge of vanishing.

He, too, felt utterly powerless. Nothing had happened after all. Had his intuition been wrong?

Could it be that the purpose of Calamity at his peak deceiving even himself was this—to use his own death to accomplish certain things?

Otherwise, why had none of the foreshadowing appeared even at a moment like this? Was I really going to be this ruthless toward myself?

False Misfortune was equally surprised. His true body had not truly appeared even now, which meant he still had an absolute Trump Card and power held in reserve.

His previous conversation with Tang Chuan had indeed set alarm bells ringing in his mind. After all, he was facing Calamity. Who could possibly afford to let down their guard?

The supreme name that represented Calamity and terror alone was enough to intimidate all living beings.

When he saw Tang Chuan launch a desperate counterattack, he had been fully prepared, ready to deal with any unforeseen circumstance that might arise.

But unexpectedly...

He had resisted Tang Chuan's counterattack so easily, so strangely. He himself