395: Chapter 395 Forced Buying and Selling Provokes a True God; A Gentle Wave of a Folding Fan Smooths Down a Shop

The grayish-white Net of Truth, carrying the rigid rules that imprisoned all three-dimensional space, descended in a seamless shroud.

Zhou Wannian stood his ground, his long, fair index and middle fingers reaching out steadily to pinch a single ray of light from the edge of the giant net.

Upon contact, there was no softness of thread, nor the warmth of a Magic Treasure. This ray of light felt cold and rigid, possessing a lifeless metallic resistance, as if he were pinching not a string, but a high-speed mechanical tread.

A cruel ecstasy erupted in the Bald Giant's single eye. His thick mechanical arm swung through the air with a series of clacks, and the hardened steel beast trap snapped shut with a piercing metallic clang.

"Reckless wild beast! Do you, a mere Mortal of flesh and blood, dare to reach out and touch a capture net from the Truth Realm? The Space Freezing Code on this net will instantly turn your Divine Soul into..."

The giant's mocking laughter came to an abrupt halt in mid-air, sounding like a broken gong whose neck had been suddenly squeezed.

*Snap.*

A crisp sound, as faint as a dry twig snapping, emanated from Zhou Wannian's fingertips.

Zhou Wannian didn't even exert force; he merely gave the ray of light between his two fingers a casual twist inward.

That grayish-white ray of light, which the giant had boasted was indestructible and contained High-Dimensional Space Imprisonment Code, instantly crumbled into a small pinch of dull gray powder between Zhou Wannian's fingertips.

This single breaking point was like the first domino falling.

The originally flawless hexagonal giant Net of Truth lost the logical support of this single node, causing the internal closed-loop code to instantly fall into an infinite loop.

*Ripppp—*

A series of dense, fine disintegration sounds exploded in mid-air.

The grayish-white giant net, which had already descended to within three inches of Zhou Wannian's head, was like a piece of rotten hemp cloth exposed to the scorching sun for a thousand years. Starting from the point Zhou Wannian had pinched, it began to collapse frantically in all directions. All the rays of light and every part of the grid turned into drifting gray code residue in less than a breath's time, before completely annihilating in the air without leaving a single trace.

The noisy corner of the market fell into a deathly silence.

The Bald Giant's mouth hung wide open, his single eye staring fixedly at the empty space above Zhou Wannian's head, his eyeball nearly popping out of its socket. His proud trump card, the High-Dimensional Beast-Catching Net he had spent half a lifetime's savings on, had been turned to ash by someone's two fingers with a gentle twist.

Beside him, the rat-headed lackey holding a black leather whip felt his legs go weak, and the whip fell onto the sewage-stained mud with a *thud*. The fur all over his body stood on end; a lethal fear rooted in biological instinct left him without even the strength to turn and run.

Zhou Wannian brushed away the bit of gray dust remaining on his fingertips.

He didn't look at the terrified Bald Giant, nor did he pay any mind to the Immortal-Demon Merchants around him who were gradually casting astonished glances his way.

His gaze bypassed the few lackeys blocking his path and landed on a nearby shop with an eerie decor.

This shop had no door; the entire storefront was propped up by several massive, unidentified beast bones. Inside the shop hung all sorts of bizarre trinkets: dried heads of exotic beasts, a severed arm soaking in preservative formalin, and some Magical Artifacts emitting a cold Aura.

Zhou Wannian set off, his spotless azure cloth shoes stepping onto the uneven, dark gray floor tiles with a steady pace.

He walked straight past the dumbfounded lackeys and arrived at the counter of that shop.

The shopkeeper was a soft-bodied monster covered in pustules, with no eyes and only a large mouth full of sharp teeth. Sensing Zhou Wannian's approach, it instinctively shrunk its writhing body back, causing several glass jars on the counter to clink together.

Zhou Wannian's gaze swept across the counter.

Amidst a pile of junk emitting the smell of blood and rotting corpses, a folding fan lay discarded carelessly.

This folding fan was clearly the personal possession of some plundered low-dimensional Cultivator. Falling into the hands of these monsters who only knew crude stitching, it had been treated as a worthless throw-in.

The ribs of the folding fan displayed a warm jade-like color, polished from the leg bones of some spiritual bird. The fan's surface was woven from the silk of an Ice-Silk Celestial Silkworm, featuring a few strokes of plum blossoms in light ink, exuding the elegant air of a mundane scholar.

In this Immortal-Demon Market filled with stench, blood, distortion, and mechanical code, this folding fan seemed so out of place.

Zhou Wannian reached out his long, fair right hand and picked up the folding fan from beside the pile of stinking, rotten meat.

The ribs felt slightly cool and delicate to the touch.

He flicked it open with a gentle nudge of his thumb.

*Swish.*

The folding fan snapped open cleanly in mid-air, making a crisp, pleasant sound of fabric tightening.

The fan surface with its light-ink plum blossoms gleamed slightly white in the dim light.

Holding the handle, Zhou Wannian's wrist turned slightly as he casually fanned himself twice in front of his chest.

A faint current of air rippled out from the fan's surface, slightly dispersing the unpleasant odor of preservative chemicals and rotting meat lingering around his nose.

"Such an elegant item, falling into this mud pit... it's truly a pity."

Zhou Wannian looked at the plum blossoms on the fan and whispered to himself.

His voice was calm and pleasant, as if he were truly a leisurely scholar who had found a favorite little item at an antique stall.

However, the Bald Giant standing behind him now felt an unprecedented crisis of life and death. The back of the man in the azure robe was clearly defenseless, yet in the giant's perception, he was like a destructive volcano that could erupt at any moment.

"Run... split up and run!"

The giant suddenly snapped back to his senses, an out-of-tune roar squeezing from his throat. He didn't even bother to call out to his brothers as he turned and knocked over several passersby, his thick legs sprinting toward the market exit like a madman.

The lackeys also woke up from their stupor, scrambling and crawling as they fled in all directions.

The commotion here finally drew the attention of the entire bustling market street.

The pig-headed stall owner selling "Heavenly Dao Origins" stopped his hawking, and the half-human, half-mechanical female Cultivator put down her tweezers. Tens of thousands of Immortal-Demon Cultivators, merchants, and patrolling guards all turned their gazes toward the man in the azure robe holding the folding fan.

Zhou Wannian didn't turn to chase the fleeing Bald Giant.

Holding the open folding fan, his gaze slowly swept across the wide, noisy, seemingly endless market street.

The Heavenly Dao Origins emitting faint wails inside jars.

Those customized Flesh and Blood Spiritual Roots writhing in preservative fluid.

The dark gray floor tiles beneath his feet, fired from the ruins of endless worlds.

And these High-Dimensional Bandits draped in human skin, beast hides, and mechanical shells, their eyes filled only with greed and slaughter.

The leisurely smile at the corner of Zhou Wannian's mouth completely vanished, replaced by an absolute coldness devoid of any warmth.

"Too noisy."

Zhou Wannian looked at the foul street, his tone flat without a single ripple.

"And, too filthy."

He stopped fanning.

His right hand, gripping the handle, slowly rose until it was above his head.

The wide azure sleeve slid down his arm, revealing a fair and powerful wrist.

The Immortal-Demon Cultivators along the entire long street looked at this Mortal holding up a folding fan with bewilderment. Some even broke into unabashed laughter, thinking this was yet another low-dimensional prey who had lost his mind from the market's terrifying sights.

Zhou Wannian ignored the mockery.

He looked at the bustling street stretching for dozens of miles ahead.

Then.

Holding the folding fan adorned with plum blossoms.

Simply and calmly, from top to bottom.

He swung it down.

No mountain-toppling True Qi surged forth, nor was there any eye-piercing sword light that tore through the firmament.

He merely performed the simplest fanning motion.

But.

At the very moment the fan surface with the plum blossoms cut through the turbid air ahead.

Time, on this market street extending for dozens of miles, completely lost its meaning of flow.

Under Zhou Wannian's casual swing, the Great Perfection Space Law was pushed to a terrifying extreme that defied the common logic of the Universe.

The trajectory of the fan's surface no longer pushed the air; instead, it directly severed the most fundamental Z-axis within the three-dimensional space of this world.

*Buzz—*

A low hum, so deep it felt like some ancient giant beast groaning from the bottom of an abyss, boomed deep within everyone's eardrums.

Immediately after.

A scene that made the Souls of all living beings tremble unfolded before Zhou Wannian's folding fan.

There was no explosion.

There was no collapse.

The invisible ripple swung from the folding fan was like an infinitely large, infinitely thin invisible iron. Following the Void Realm of the street, it surged forward in a straight line at a speed exceeding that of light!

Wherever this ripple passed, all matter, all energy, and all life forms were stripped of the very concept of "thickness."

The Bald Giant who had just run several hundred feet away had just lifted a thick mechanical leg, not yet having time to set it down.

The invisible ripple swept across his back.

The giant's massive body lost its three-dimensional depth in an instant. His chest and back were forcibly pressed together by an irresistible power of Laws. There was no blood splatter, no crisp sound of shattering bones.

The entire Bald Giant was like a decal flattened by a heavy hammer, instantly becoming a two-dimensional planar figure with only length and width. The metallic luster of his mechanical iron arm remained, and the terrified, twisted expression on his face was still clear, but he had become a sheet of drawing paper without thickness, drifting lightly onto the dark gray floor tiles.

This terrifying spatial folding did not pause for a moment, sweeping through the entire market street like a silent, world-ending tsunami.

The pig-headed stall owner selling Heavenly Dao Origin, along with the large Obsidian counter in front of him.

The half-human, half-mechanical female Cultivator, as well as the white jade tray she held and the wriggling Spiritual Roots inside it.

The towering bone tents, the illuminating light orbs suspended in mid-air, and even the Immortal-Demon patrol guards flying above the street.

"Sha-la... Sha-la..."

A strange friction sound, similar to the rapid flipping of heavy book pages or the forceful flattening of giant sheets of paper, echoed continuously through the originally boisterous street.

The sound became the only death knell.

The Heavenly Dao mists stored in jars, along with the thick glass walls, were compressed into planar ink paintings in an instant. The flesh and tissue wriggling in preservative fluid became a few twisted red lines on the scrolls.

Everything happened too fast—so fast that these Immortal-Demon Cultivators didn't even have time for the thought of "fear" to arise in their minds.

The guards who opened their mouths to call for help couldn't make a sound. Because after becoming two-dimensional planes, they lost their three-dimensional lungs and vocal cords; three-dimensional air could no longer enter their flattened shells.

This was the ultimate erasure—clean, efficient, and leaving no room for survival.

A light breeze blew past.

Zhou Wannian stood quietly at the start of the long street.

The Winter Plum Folding Fan in his hand had already been closed, held casually in his palm.

He raised his head and looked forward.

The bustling market street that had just been overcrowded, filled with deafening cries of vendors and the stench of blood...

...was gone.

What appeared before him was a flat, open, and deathly silent boulevard.

On the ground of the boulevard, a grand "floor painting" spanning dozens of miles was spread out—colorful, yet exuding endless horror.

Tens of thousands of Immortal-Demon Cultivators, countless stalls piled with illicit goods, and even the strange beasts flying in mid-air had been neatly "printed" onto the dark gray floor tiles after losing their thickness.

Their terrified faces, twisted limbs, and the flickering glimmers on their Magic Treasures were all perfectly preserved in this two-dimensional plane. The red blood no longer flowed, becoming merely a patch of bright red paint; the cold metal was no longer hard, becoming just a dull block of color.

A gentle wave of a fan.

Space Law folding.

The entire den of iniquity, where countless dirty deals of the Immortal-Demon Great World converged, was smoothly crushed into a thin sheet of scrap paper by Zhou Wannian using a method that transcended dimensional understanding.

Zhou Wannian lightly tapped the closed folding fan twice against his left palm.

"Now, this looks much cleaner."

His tone was steady, as if he had just finished sweeping the fallen leaves in his own courtyard.

However, the price of this cleanliness was the total erasure of the most important material distribution center in the inner city of the Immortal-Demon Great World from the three-dimensional Universe.

"Woo— Woo— Woo—"

Just after this suffocating silence lasted for a mere two breaths...

...from deep within the inner city of the Immortal-Demon Great World, the most shrill and piercing highest-level blood-red alarm suddenly erupted!

Blinding red light shot into the sky from all directions of the inner city, tearing the layer of dark purple haze to shreds. Countless powerful Auras sleeping deep beneath the inner city ground, like awakened ancient Vicious Beasts, let out roars of fury.

The Void Realm trembled as countless visible spatial ripples surged above the inner city.

Squads of Law Enforcement Overseers clad in heavy armor, exuding Auras of Nascent Soul Perfection or even Half-step Deity Transformation, rode war chariots pulled by giant black dragons. From all directions of the sky, they converged like a dense black cloud toward the market ruins that had turned into a two-dimensional scroll.

A chilling, violent, and terrifying killing intent that sought to tear the intruder into ten thousand pieces at any cost completely locked onto the space where Zhou Wannian stood.

The ruling body of the Immortal-Demon Great World was utterly enraged.

If the Star Ring was destroyed, they could still endure it; after all, that was the periphery.

But now, someone had flattened their most prosperous trading market in their heartland with a single fan stroke. This was equivalent to a harsh slap across the faces of all the high-level figures in the Immortal-Demon Great World.

Zhou Wannian listened to the rumbling of the war chariots from the sky and felt the cold killing intent locked onto him.

He did not look up at the aggressive law enforcement army.

Instead, those deep eyes lowered slightly, falling onto the center of the flat two-dimensional floor painting ahead.

At the very center of the street.

Right where the Obsidian stall that specialized in selling Advanced Heavenly Dao Origin had originally been located.

Everything had been compressed into planar graphics by the spatial folding. The originally incredibly hard Obsidian was now just a layer of black color clinging to the ground.

However...

...in the dead center of this perfect two-dimensional scroll, a strange, pitch-black "hole" appeared.

This hole presented a perfect circle, about ten feet wide. Inside the hole, there was no flattened image, only endless depth and darkness, like a mouth growing on the drawing paper.

The Great Perfection Space Law folding had leveled all three-dimensional buildings and life on the surface.

But this folding force had swept across parallel to the horizon. It flattened all objects protruding from the ground, but unexpectedly unveiled a "fig leaf" that had been hidden beneath this prosperous market.

Because the cover and Formations above were completely crushed into a plane without thickness, this secret entrance that had been buried deep underground was exposed to the air without any concealment.

Zhou Wannian gripped his folding fan and took a step, walking onto that eerie two-dimensional floor painting.

Stepping on the faces of the Immortal-Demon Cultivators who had become graphics, there was no uneven tactile sensation; it was like walking on a smooth sheet of glass.

He walked to the front of the perfectly circular pitch-black hole.

He stopped his pace.

He looked down into it.

Inside the hole was a wide spiral staircase extending downwards. The material of the stairs was not bone or stone, but an unknown metal shimmering with a cold silver light.

An extremely pungent odor, a thousand times purer than the market on the surface, surged up from deep underground along this spiral staircase.

It was a peculiar scent—a mixture of concentrated preservative fluid, fresh blood, and the cold, rigid smell of mechanical oil from the High-Dimensional Truth Realm.

In this scent, Zhou Wannian also keenly captured countless weak, chaotic life fluctuations filled with pain and frenzy. These fluctuations intertwined, as if a giant flesh-and-blood blender was frantically operating deep underground.

"Putting the business on the surface, and hiding the slaughterhouse beneath their feet."

Zhou Wannian looked at the bottomless metal staircase, a cold arc curling at the corner of his mouth.

He knew that what was hidden down there was the true core of the Immortal-Demon Great World's continuous mass-production of Half-step Deity Transformation monsters.

The rumbling of the war chariots in the sky had already approached overhead, and countless destructive Spell lights were brewing in the clouds, about to pour down.

Zhou Wannian paid no heed to the thunderous rage above his head.

He lightly tapped the folding fan in his right hand against his left palm.

Then...

...his spotless green cloth shoes stepped steadily onto the silver metal staircase leading to the depths of the earth.

"The thunder in the sky is too noisy."

Zhou Wannian's figure slowly descended along the spiral staircase, his voice calmly drifting at the entrance of the pitch-black passage.

"I'll head down first to see what recipe you used to brew this big pot of hodgepodge."