550: Chapter 550 Son of the Demon Realm God

Everyone's gaze suddenly froze, like countless cold nails, fiercely hammered toward the same direction.

A youth.

A youth of the Demon Race.

He stood there at the edge of the Void Realm, as thin and fragile as if a gust of wind could blow him away.

No—rather than a youth, he was more like a green sprout that had wilted from frost before it could even unfurl.

His frame had yet to fully develop, his bony skeleton propping up a loose, black robe that floated empty, like a tattered flag hanging on a withered branch.

The color of his face was thin, revealing a sickly paleness from long being hidden from the light. His features were delicate yet blurred, like a faint ink painting smudged by water, unable to find even a fraction of the sharpness and flamboyance a member of the Demon Race should have.

What he had was only a fragile, laughable vulnerability.

His name is Wufa.

The son of the Demon Realm God Lord—a "Trash" who could not even forge the most basic Demon foundation.

This title was long since no secret, but a laughingstock known throughout the Three Realms.

The dignity of a God Lord, how illustrious was his Bloodline?

Yet he had given birth to such an anomaly, like a piece of rotten wood smelted in a red gold furnace, or an ant crawling into a magnificent palace.

His Cultivation was so low it was almost nonexistent.

Not to mention comparing him to the peerless Prodigies gathered here who embodied the Luck of ten thousand races, even if thrown into the lowest corner of the Demon Realm, he wouldn't even compare to a cleaning servant.

At this moment, this dangerous Void Realm, which had gathered the top descendants of the Dragon Clan, Void Spirit Race, and Soul Race, fell into an absurd silence due to his intrusion.

Ao Huang's pair of molten-gold vertical pupils narrowed slightly, tyrannical flames dancing deep within his pupils, flashing with a hint of almost comical confusion.

But this ripple vanished in an instant, replaced by a more intense, purer playfulness and disdain.

The massive Dragon head slowly turned to the side, the pitch-black scales on his neck rubbing against each other, emitting a metallic clinking sound.

The corners of his mouth pulled back bit by bit, revealing a row of stark white fangs capable of crushing stars.

"Yo, yo, yo—"

The voice suddenly rose, sharp as tearing silk, dragging out a teeth-gratingly long tone, like the excited screeching of a vulture perched on a mountain of corpses, carrying the scent of blood.

He deliberately tilted his head, his Dragon whiskers trembling exaggeratedly, using a gaze that scrutinized a strange, filthy object to scrape over that thin, small figure from head to toe.

"Did I... see wrong?" He smacked his lips, his voice exploding in the Void Realm, "You guys, quickly, help me look, where did this speck of dust roll in from?"

"Oh no—a speck of dust still has weight, this thing... tsk tsk, I just yawned, and almost blew him away with one breath!"

"I thought it was some blind Void Realm worm that crawled into the wrong nest!"

Xu Ming crossed his four arms over his chest, his ink-jade-like skin flowing with a darkness that devoured light.

His signature raspy laughter rolled from his throat, not loud, but like a rusty, dull knife scraping against bones, every syllable soaked in viscous malice.

"Ao Huang, those two Dragon eyes of yours are quite bright."

His pure black eyes with no whites turned toward Wufa, blinking slowly, like a cat toying with a mouse.

"This person... isn't he that famous 'Little Noble' from the Demon Realm? What was his name again? Let me think..."

He pretended to ponder, his knuckles lightly tapping his own arm, emitting a hollow clack-clack sound.

"Wu... Wufa? Right, it's Wufa!"

He clapped his hands suddenly, his voice erupting with an even greater, mockery-filled "surprise": "Wonderful! This name is absolutely ingenious! Wufa, Wutian... you guys in the Demon Realm naming people, I'm afraid you specifically sought out those blind fortune tellers to learn from, right?"

"One Wufa, one Wutian, they really match well, match very well indeed!"

He laughed until he leaned back and forth, his four arms trembling wildly, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the Three Realms.

The sound gradually ceased, he suddenly restrained his expression, leaving only frozen mockery in his eyes, word by word, slowly slicing:

"However, names, sometimes they are scarily accurate."

"'Wufa'—look, how fitting? Unable to Cultivate, unable to condense a foundation, unable to stand here like a person, and even the qualification to make people look at him straight on is, damn it, 'unable'! Hahahaha!"

Hun Yan remained silent.

His silence was more heart-palpitating than Ao Huang's wild laughter and Xu Ming's sharpness.

He didn't even fully "look" at Wufa. Only when his peripheral vision swept over that figure like the coldest ice shards, without even a ripple of emotion rising in his gaze, he naturally and thoroughly moved it away.

This was not contempt, not disgust.

This was a more ultimate negation—it was the vast starry sky ignoring the drifting of a speck of dust, it was the towering mountain ignoring the rolling of a grain of sand.

In his eyes, the youth was no different from the dead, silent rubble floating in the background of the Void Realm, perhaps even worse than the rubble—the rubble might at least bruise a foot, while that youth didn't even have the value to make his gaze pause for a fleeting moment.

Thorough disregard was the most arrogant verdict.

Xu Ming keenly captured this extreme indifference of Hun Yan. He seemed to have discovered some more interesting fun, dragging out a long "Aiyo" sound, pointing his finger at Hun Yan, then turning to Wufa, his expression as exaggerated as if performing a clumsy farce:

"Look, everyone look! Our Soul Race Young Master is too lazy to even lift his eyelids! His golden mouth is hard to open, he doesn't even disdain to bestow a single word upon you, little Trash."

He leaned closer, his voice pressed extremely low, yet like a viper spitting its tongue, clearly drilling into every inch of air:

"I say... Young Master Wufa, you ponder it yourself, living in such a state, what is the point?"

"Your father, the Demon Realm God Lord, is a figure who makes all directions tremble with a stomp of his foot. But how did he... hatch such a thing as you?"

"I guess, when the God Lord lies on the ten-thousand-foot Demon couch at night, closing his eyes he sees you, this good-for-nothing son, opening his eyes he sees you, this disgrace to the family, his intestines must have turned green with regret, right? Would he be so annoyed he tosses and turns, wishing time could flow backward, to... hmm?"

He left a malicious suspense, his tail tone rising, wrapped in endless ridicule.

Ao Huang cooperated by letting out a deafening roar of laughter, his Dragon body trembling wildly, stirring the surrounding Void Realm into chaos: "Regret? More than just regret!"

"If I were his father, the moment you were born, I would have slapped you back into your mother's womb to be remade!"

"No—I would have directly pinched you into a wisp of Devilish Qi and scattered you!"

"Keeping you is simply a stain unprecedented in the history of the Demon Realm!"

"Living, you are just a waste of the Spiritual Qi of this Void Realm!"

One Dragon and one Void Spirit, like clowns on a set stage, singing and acting, performing the drama of malice to the fullest.

They recognized him. This laughingstock of the Demon Realm, a walking disgrace.

A piece of Trash, daring to step into this forbidden Void Realm where only the strong are qualified to compete?

Absurd!

In the dead, silent air, a certain consensus was instantly reached.

No eye contact, no Divine Thought communication, not even the slightest omen—

Killing intent, like a polar cold wave, erupted with a boom!

The first to move was Ao Huang!

The massive Dragon claw suddenly reached out—no, not a simple physical grasp. Within the center of the claw, a black hole seemed to generate, devouring light, twisting the rules!

Five pitch-black cracks entwined with destructive energy, like the claws of the Grim Reaper, first tore through the Void Realm, carrying the pure, tyrannical, savage power of the Dragon Clan, covering him from above!

Where the claw wind passed, space let out an unbearable groan, plowed into trenches deep enough to see the "Void"!

Almost simultaneously, Xu Ming moved.

His four arms danced in an irrational trajectory, silent and soundless, yet more lethal than thunder.

The surrounding space seemed to become plasticine in his hands, easily kneaded, folded, and cut!

Countless transparent, colorless space blades condensed out of thin air, no cold light, no sound of breaking wind, only an absolute concept of "sharpness" quietly emerged from all directions, sealing off all gaps for evasion, twisting and killing toward the thin figure in the center!

The most bizarre assassination, impossible to guard against.

And the most vicious strike came from Hun Yan, who still seemed unmoved.

He only slightly raised his eyelids.

Deep in his pupils, two clusters of ghostly blue soul fire jumped violently!

An intangible, formless, cold-to-the-bone sharp force had transformed into the finest and most lethal soul needle, crossing the barriers of matter and energy, ignoring all physical defenses, piercing straight into Wufa's unprotected Sea of Consciousness between his brows!

A secret technique of the Soul Race, attacking the Divine Soul Origin directly. For those with low Cultivation, often one strike could cause their Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering, their true spirit dissipating!

Three killing intents!

From three peerless Prodigies of different races!

Wrapped in the tyranny of the Dragon Clan, the strangeness of the Void Spirit Race, and the viciousness of the Soul Race!

From three directions where simultaneous defense was absolutely impossible—

Locked onto the same target.

That

This thin, small, pale youth, who seemed about to be crushed by the pressure of the Void Realm in the next second.

Death had already opened its giant mouth.

The fangs were only an instant away from his throat.

The Void Realm froze, time seemed to be infinitely stretched.

Only the torrent of destruction remained, roaring toward the only destination.