Perhaps because two lifetimes had overlapped, or perhaps due to the influence of the White Calamity, Zhao Cheng had now entered a state of liberating his nature. His sense of self had been unleashed as never before. Facing the terrifying Empire, he felt no hesitation, no fear, no bewilderment. All he had was the conviction that the strong were meant to defy the heavens.
Under such circumstances, though he was the uncrowned king of the rat race, he carried not the slightest aura a king ought to possess. There was only tyranny—ever greater tyranny—an aura so intense it seemed ready to suppress heaven and earth!
To stimulate the electric field to its utmost limit, the cells in his body were collapsing and dying every moment. Cancer cells might not possess pain receptors, but their instincts were millions of times fiercer and more tyrannical than those of ordinary cells. If the instincts of cancer cells were not tyrannical, how could they madly plunder every scrap of nutrition, even if it meant dying alongside their host in the end?!
Yet Zhao Cheng's will was even more tyrannical, even more insane, than the instincts of cancer cells!
His life form was collapsing? So what! Cancer cells, unwilling to be exploited, rebelled and tore his body apart? So what!
Though he walked the edge of death every moment, beset by troubles within and without, Zhao Cheng still had not the slightest regret.
Even cancer cells, inherently brimming with destructive intent, had been squeezed by him until they developed the instinct to flee simply because they wanted to survive. That alone showed the state of Zhao Cheng's mind.
Probably even the Zhao Chengs of the future timeline and the present timeline would fail to recognize this composite version of themselves—to realize that this big fellow