115: Chapter 115 Death

The boy looked at the gloomy and eerie scene before him, unable to help but feel a shiver of fear in his heart.

Darkness, like thick ink, spread wantonly throughout this space, swallowing everything within it.

The faint moonlight struggled to pierce through the heavy clouds, stingily casting a few slivers of silver, yet it could not illuminate this bottomless fear.

He gripped the kitchen knife he had brought from home tightly and slowly took a step forward with his left foot.

In his trembling hand, that kitchen knife seemed to become his only reliance, yet it appeared so thin and powerless.

His breathing was rapid and chaotic; every inhalation felt like swallowing icy fear, and every exhalation carried an uncontrollable tremor.

It was precisely at this moment.

A blood-curdling scream suddenly erupted in the air; the sound was like a cursed soul wailing in pain, or perhaps a demon from the depths of hell roaring in anger.

The boy's body stiffened abruptly, his heart seemingly gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

The scream echoed in the empty surroundings, as if countless invisible hands were reaching out from the darkness, wanting to drag him into an endless abyss.

The boy subconsciously looked up, only to see a black shadow sweep over his head, bringing with it an eerie, chilling wind.

The shadow's eyes glinted with an eerie red light, like burning hellfire.

The boy's eyes widened in terror, a stifled cry escaping his throat, and his legs could no longer support his weight, causing him to collapse onto the ground.

"Heh heh heh..."

The black shadow let out a mocking laugh, a sound that seemed to come from the nine nether abysses, carrying endless chill and evil.

Every syllable was like a sharp icicle, piercing straight into the depths of one's soul, making one's hair stand on end.

Then, it slowly revealed its true form.

This was a black-haired young man with eyes glowing red.

His face was indistinct in the dim light, his features seemingly carved by darkness, exuding a strange, uncanny beauty.

That pair of blood-red glowing eyes was like burning charcoal, yet without a shred of warmth, possessing only cold killing intent and deep madness.

The young man held a massive scythe in his hand, its blade flashing with a chilling, cold gleam, as if it could easily sever any life in the world.

The young man waved the scythe slightly, and a sharp whistling sound came from the air, as if it were the prelude to death.

He walked towards the boy step by step, each step carrying a heavy sense of oppression.

The ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble, as if fearing his power.

A cruel smile curled the corners of his mouth, revealing a row of white yet sharp teeth, like a beast ready to pounce on its prey at any moment.

The boy looked at the approaching young man, his body retreating involuntarily, and the kitchen knife in his hand began to tremble.

However, his retreat was blocked by darkness; he had nowhere to run.

The young man stopped, stared fixedly at the boy with his red eyes, and said coldly.

"I was just one soul short of completing my mission today; I didn't expect one to deliver itself to my doorstep."

His voice was low and hoarse, like a judgment delivered from the depths of hell.

At this moment, the wind suddenly stopped, and the surroundings fell into a dead silence, with only the young man's terrifying words echoing in the air.

Upon hearing this, the boy was so scared that he shook all over, his teeth chattering, and his legs went so soft they could barely support his weight.

His eyes were filled with extreme terror, as if he saw the end of his life right before him.

Seeing that the other party was about to sever his head.

He hurriedly shouted: "I am a disciple of your God! I am His disciple!"

The sound, filled with desperate wailing, broke through his throat and echoed in this gloomy and eerie environment.

As soon as these words were spoken.

The young man's movements paused.

A flicker of doubt and hesitation flashed through his originally firm and cold eyes, and the massive scythe in his hand stopped in mid-air.

He stared intensely at the boy, seemingly judging the truth of the boy's words.

The surrounding air seemed to solidify, so quiet it felt suffocating.

The boy gasped for air, sweat pouring down his forehead like rain, his heart beating rapidly as if it were about to burst from his chest.

The young man was silent for a moment, then slowly said: "You are a disciple of my Lord... do you have any proof?"

His voice remained cold, but his tone held a bit more inquiry.

The boy said, his voice trembling: "White hair! He has white hair!!"

Upon hearing this, a trace of surprise appeared in the young man's eyes, but he quickly returned to indifference and said.

"Even so, that does not prove what you say is true."

The boy hurriedly continued: "Wheels! There are wheels in His pupils!!"

The young man's brows shot up, his eyes locked onto the boy.

White hair, wheels in the pupils.

My Lord indeed has these characteristics, and those who have seen my Lord, besides them, are almost all dead.

He was curious; if this child were truly my Lord's disciple, that would be fine, but if not...

Thinking of this.

The black-haired young man looked at the boy with great interest, his gaze like one examining a rare treasure, or perhaps eyeing a lamb ready for slaughter.

"You may call me Death, a name personally bestowed by my Lord."

His voice seemed to come from a distant void, cold and ethereal, devoid of any emotion.

The boy's body tensed; he suppressed the fear in his heart, trying hard to make his voice sound calm.

"Lord Death, every word I say is true; please allow me to pay my respects to Master."

Death narrowed his eyes slightly, a faint arc appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"When the soul ascends to heaven, that is the day you shall see the future."

Having said this.

A massive head soared into the sky, accompanied by crimson blood.

The blood gushed out like a fountain, tracing a shocking arc in the dim light.

The boy's body collapsed with a thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Death looked at this scene indifferently, the air filled with the scent of blood.

At this moment, a faint blue light emanated from the boy's headless corpse.

The light was initially like a faint firefly, flickering in the darkness, but it quickly became bright, like a newly rising star.

Wherever the light reached, the scent of blood seemed to be slightly diluted.