It Has Come?

On Sea God Island, Long Yeyue was drinking tea.

The cup stopped at his lips, his hand frozen.

She looked up at the silvery-white beam of light outside the window, her pupils suddenly contracting.

Zhuo Shi and Feng Wuyu rushed out of their respective rooms, bumping into each other, but neither of them cursed at the other.

Cai Yue'er stood at the entrance of the Sea God Pavilion, the files in her hands scattered on the ground, which she did not pick up.

Ya Li ran out of the kitchen, her apron still tied around her waist and a spatula in her hand.

In the outer courtyard of Shrek City, on the training ground, all the students stopped what they were doing.

Some people looked up, some gaped, and some didn't even notice when they dropped what they were holding.

In the Work-Study Student Dormitory, five people stood at the door, gazing at the magnificent pillar of light.

Gu Yue smiled slightly.

Time stood still inside the gray building.

Yun Jingheng's fingers froze on the hilt of the sword. The Moonlight Sword hung in mid-air, its tip still three inches from the leopard's head, but he could no longer pierce it.

His breathing stopped, his heart stopped beating, and even his blood froze in his veins.

His eyes could still see, and he was still conscious, but his body was frozen, like a stone statue, like a painting.

He saw Yun Ming, Yun Ming was standing at the door, his hand still raised, his foot still moving, frozen in place, as if someone had pressed the pause button.

His expression remained frozen from the previous second; his mouth was slightly open, his eyes were slightly wide open, and even the hem of his robe seemed to be suspended in mid-air, no longer fluttering.

Yun Jingheng's pupils contracted; he tried to shout, but no sound came out.

He wanted to move, but he couldn't even move his fingers.

The Nether Ice Fang Leopard slowly rose from the ground, accompanied by a ring of crimson Soul Ring.

He staggered closer to Yun Jingheng.

Yun Ming stood frozen in place.

He is the Limit Douluo, the pinnacle of his time, and one of the strongest people on the entire continent.

But at this moment, he couldn't move even a single finger.

His eyes could still see, and he was still conscious, but his body was frozen in place, like a statue.

He could only watch, watch the leopard sacrifice itself, watch his son be swallowed by the silvery light, and do nothing.

His hands were clenched at his sides, but he couldn't feel them anymore.

His mouth was open, but he couldn't make a sound.

The Nether Ice Fang Leopard slowly stood up from the ground.

Its limbs were trembling, and the chains were detaching from its broken limbs with a rattling sound.

Its body was still locked with the light of the sealing circuit. The light shattered the moment it stood up, exploding like glass. The fragments floated in mid-air, supported by silvery-white light, like tiny stars.

A ring of Soul Ring slowly appeared beneath its feet.

A dark red, thick Soul Ring, as thick as congealed Blood One, spun beneath its feet.

It staggered toward Yun Jingheng.

Every step was slow, every step was heavy.

Its claws stomped on the broken stone slabs, leaving deep claw marks, the edges of which were covered with a thin layer of frost.

Its body was dissipating, starting from its limbs, and silvery-white specks of light floated up from its body, like fireflies, snowflakes, or shattered starlight.

It walked up to Yun Jingheng, stopped, raised its head, and looked at Yun Jingheng's face.

Its eyes were still a deep blue, but the blue had faded considerably, becoming as pale as the moonlight in winter.

Its mouth moved slightly, as if it wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

The leopard lowered its head and gently touched the tip of Yun Jingheng's sword with the top of its head.

It's a touch, like a farewell, like a confirmation, like a final ritual.

Its body suddenly lit up.

A dark red, thick light, Blood One, exploded from its body, like a red giant star being born on the ground.

Beneath its feet, the blood-red Soul Ring peeled off its body, slowly rose, and floated towards Yun Jingheng.

A blood-red Soul Ring was placed under Yun Jingheng's feet, slowly rotating, along with his other four Soul Ring, spinning beneath his feet.

The beam of light has changed.

The white light that illuminated the entire Shrek City lasted only a few seconds.

The sky was dyed red, and the clouds were churning like boiling blood.

The entire Shrek City was enveloped in a blood-red light, and everyone's face was red.

The Nether Ice Fang Leopard's eyes remained fixed on Yun Jingheng, the light in its pupils growing fainter and fainter, like a candle flame about to go out.

Its mouth moved slightly, uttering a final sound, very soft, so soft as the wind blowing across a lake.

"It's best not to use the second Soul Skill."

Its voice was very calm, as calm as if it were stating something very ordinary.

"I cannot decide what kind of Soul Skill I will bestow upon you... but I can be certain that the power of killing will absolutely not be separated from you."

It paused for a moment, then said, "So I tried to compress it into the position of the second Soul Skill... that way, you at least have one more option."

A small, palm-sized, white-tinged blue Soul Bone was peeled off its body, its surface shimmering with a faint blue luster.

The Soul Bone floated up and slowly flew towards Yun Jingheng, merging into his left arm.

Yun Jingheng felt a chill surge up from his left hand, spreading along his arm to his shoulder, from his shoulder to his chest, and from his chest to his entire body.

Cold, extreme cold.

Then he lost consciousness.

His body leaned back, and the Moonlight Sword slipped from his hand, stuck in the ground, its blade trembling slightly.

He collapsed amidst the rubble and dust, his eyes closed.

Yun Ming stood at the doorway, watching Yun Jingheng collapse.

His body remained frozen in place, unable to move.

He saw his son lying in the ruins, saw the blood-red Soul Ring spinning at his feet, and saw a ghostly blue light emanating from his left hand.

His mouth was open, but he couldn't make a sound.

I wanted to rush over, but my body wouldn't obey me at all.

I wanted to shout, but it felt like something was blocking my throat.

Yun Jingheng stood in a deathly gray fog, his body devoid of any of the ethereal quality of Sea of Spirit, instead enveloped by a dense, impenetrable stillness.

It wasn't fog; it was gray and heavy, like swelled, rotten cotton, clinging tightly to the skin. A coolness seeped into the pores, and a sticky sensation spread along the texture of the skin, gently rubbing against it, carrying a nauseating fishy smell.

He looked around blankly, all he could see was churning gray fog, without a single ray of light or a sound; the entire space was as silent as a grave buried alive.

Looking down at his feet, he saw that his ankles and below were already swallowed by the mist. It seemed as if he was standing on empty air, but his feet were pressed against a hard, piercing ground. The icy coldness rushed from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. The coldness was not an ordinary low temperature, but a chilling cold that could freeze his soul.

He tentatively took a step forward, and the mist in front of him barely cracked open, revealing the grayish-white ground below.

It was an eerily smooth stone slab, its surface covered with fine, twisted patterns that Entanglement and resembled the swirls of a living person's fingerprints, the annual rings of decaying wood, or some kind of ancient rune carrying a curse. The dense pattern made one dizzy and uneasy.

But as soon as he squatted down, before his fingertips even touched the ground, a surging wave of mist rushed in with brute force, instantly covering the ground completely without leaving a single gap.

Yun Jingheng clenched his fists, stood up, and walked aimlessly forward.

He walked for an unknown amount of time. There was no direction, no distance, and no trace of the passage of time. It was as if he had been trapped in this eternal gray fog from the very beginning, never having moved an inch.

Only his footsteps echoed dully in the fog. The echo was not like a normal sound refraction, but rather as if another person was following behind him, repeating his footsteps word for word.

He stopped abruptly, and the echo ceased abruptly.

He took another step, and the echo rang out precisely on time.

But when he paused again, the eerie echo did not dissipate; instead, a distinct additional footstep followed.

In the instant he stood still, something took a step for him.

A bone-chilling cold instantly crept up from his tailbone to the top of his head, making Yun Jingheng's hair stand on end and his blood almost freeze.

Something's coming.

From the deepest part of the fog, it was slowly approaching him.

First came a blurry, ethereal figure, neither walking out nor floating out, but rather seeping out little by little from the thick gray fog, like ink seeping into rice paper.

The outline gradually became clear, first the slender figure, then the long, flowing hair. It was a head of pale white hair that was almost transparent, hanging down to the waist like a Ice Seal waterfall, without a single ripple, as if frozen by an invisible chill. Even the surging mist around it flowed around it, making it strangely incongruous.

The figure stood motionless in the mist with its back to him, surrounded by swirling waves of fog. The place where it stood was deathly silent, as if the air itself had frozen.

Then, the figure moved.

Without lifting a foot, without turning around, without even the slightest sway of the limbs, the person was like a soulless shell, being dragged along the ground by an invisible hand, moving eerily.

It slides three steps, then suddenly stops, remaining dead silent for a moment, then slides two more steps, and again comes to an abrupt halt.

Then it suddenly slid five steps forward and stopped in place, like a jerky shadow puppet show.

With each shift, its body twists and turns eerily; its limbs, torso, and outline resemble reflections on water churned by a storm, contorting and deforming before strangely returning to their original shape, exuding a chilling, illogical quality.

Yun Jingheng stared intently at the figure, his eyes stinging and swollen, yet he dared not blink. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, crashing against his ribs, the pain almost suffocating him; each beat seemed to foreshadow the approach of death.

In the blink of an eye, the figure had moved right in front of him, so close that they could see the texture of each other's clothes.

She was still facing away from him, her tattered white robe stained with dark grime, the edges worn and frayed, and a dark brown-black stain spreading around the cuffs—blood that had dried long ago and seeped into the fabric, emitting a putrid stench.

Her long, snow-white hair cascaded down, completely obscuring her neck, shoulders, and even her entire back, like a cold barrier that isolated her from all breath, leaving only a suffocating sense of oppression.

Yun Jingheng's body stiffened, his limbs felt like they were filled with lead, and he couldn't move a single finger. He could only stare intently at that cold back, his breathing becoming cautious.

Just then, the figure slowly turned around.

It wasn't a normal person's turning motion; it made a sharp, grating friction sound as it turned, and every joint seemed to be stuck, stiff and awkward, with a teeth-grinding sense of incongruity.

The head turned slowly, its neck twisting and making a chilling sound, but the drooping white hair remained motionless, firmly stuck in its original position, as if the head and the hair were two separate entities.

Finally, that face turned completely around.

His face was as white as if it had been coated with putty, without a trace of blood. His lips were a deathly bluish-gray. His nose was prominently high, his brow bones were high, and his eye sockets were deep-set. His whole face was exquisite but cold and lifeless.

And where the eyes should have been, there was no space.

There were no eyeballs, no pupils, no whites of the eyes, only two bottomless black holes, pitch black and deep.

Yun Jingheng's breathing stopped instantly, his heartbeat halted, his blood seemed to freeze, his mind went blank, and only extreme fear remained.

He tried to close his eyes, but his eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds and wouldn't obey him.

He tried to back away, but his feet were firmly planted on the icy ground, making it impossible for him to move an inch.

He was forced to stare directly at those two terrifying black holes, feeling the excruciating pain as his soul was being torn apart.

Suddenly, two scarlet lights slowly emerged from the depths of the black hole.

At first, it was just a faint red dot, but it grew brighter and brighter, more and more intense, like two balls of blood-red embers burning in the depths of hell, carrying scalding ferocity and icy killing intent, illuminating the entire eerie face.

The red light stung his eyes, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, yet he still couldn't look away.

The figure stared intently at him with its bloodshot, empty eye sockets, its face devoid of any expression, joy, anger, sorrow, or any other emotion.

After a long silence, a dry, hoarse sound, like two pieces of withered bone rubbing against each other, was squeezed out, word by word, from its flat lips, carrying a chilling coldness that pierced the soul, slowly echoing in the mist:

"They've arrived...?"