35: Chapter 35 Great Black Heaven & Ordinary One Punch

Yang Hang froze for a second.

Then, he reread those last four characters.

"Upper limit unknown."

He slowly sat up from the recliner, held the crystal up to his eyes, and looked at the sky through the deep red crystal.

The twin suns were positioned slightly west of directly overhead, and their light refracted through the crystal, casting a patch of golden-red light spots onto his face.

He smiled.

Then he began to laugh loudly.

"Hahahaha—"

His laughter echoed across the deck of the golden Houseboat, startling several seabirds perched on the mast into flapping away.

The bionic maid didn't understand why, but she remained standing in place with a proper smile.

Yang Hang finished laughing and tossed the crystal into the air.

The Power of Causality surged, and the Ability Crystal exploded in mid-air, turning into a cloud of deep red light that sank into his chest.

In that instant, he felt it.

Every pore on his skin was like an open eye, capturing every wisp of wandering radiant energy in the air.

The sunlight landing on his body no longer felt "warm and cozy," but rather like countless extremely thin threads piercing into his skin, flowing along his blood vessels, and weaving into a denser network within his muscles and bones.

He could feel his body getting stronger.

Every minute, every second.

Every moment.

This feeling was wonderful.

So good that it made him want to do something.

Yang Hang stood on the deck, looking up at the twin suns.

His consciousness operated at high speed within the Karmic Star Sea, calling upon the mass of power in the energy pool that had already expanded to an astonishing degree.

A thought took shape.

"Sorry everyone, I'm borrowing your sun for a bit."

The Power of Causality erupted from the energy pool in the Karmic Void Realm, instantly covering the entire Magic Sea along fourteen billion lines of Karma—from the frozen seas in the far north to the boiling currents in the far south, from the dawn line in the far east to the twilight zone in the far west.

All survivors felt the space above their heads darken simultaneously.

They looked up.

The twin suns were extinguishing.

It wasn't the gentle dimming of a solar eclipse, where something blocked the light.

It was the light itself fading, as if someone had turned the brightness knob of the entire sky all the way to the left.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

The Magic Sea plunged into total darkness.

The screams of 1.4 billion people erupted at the same moment, merging into a torrent of emotion that transcended language and civilization—

"What's happening?!"

"Where's the sun?!"

"The compass has gone black too! I can't see anything!"

"Who! Who did this!"

Millions of messages instantly flooded the regional echo of the Cause and Effect Fate Platform; the server—if it had a physical form—would probably have already burned through.

But Yang Hang had no time to look at those right now.

He stood on the deck, arms spread wide, facing the sky.

All the stellar radiation he had intercepted was now converging at a single point along the lines of Karma.

Ten meters above his head, a microscopic singularity less than a meter in diameter was forming.

It was a creation of pure light and heat compressed to the limit, its brightness ten thousand times that of the twin suns in their normal state.

But all the light was constrained within an extremely small range, not spreading outward in the slightest.

Yang Hang looked at the singularity and took a deep breath.

Then he released control over his own body. The next moment, a thick, dazzling liquid of white light flowed slowly toward him until it enveloped his entire body.

The Stellar Body talent was pushed to its limit at this moment—no, beyond its limit.

Every inch of his skin was frantically absorbing radiation, and every cell was dividing, recombining, and strengthening at a terrifying speed.

He felt pain.

Not the pain of being burned, but the pain of his body being unable to withstand this surging power, being torn apart and re-molded at the most microscopic level.

Muscle fibers grew thicker replacements the moment they snapped.

Bones were filled with denser bone matter the second cracks appeared.

As his skin burned and peeled away, a new layer grew underneath—deeper in color, finer in texture, with golden patterns faintly moving beneath the surface.

How long did this process last?

He didn't know.

Perhaps a minute, perhaps ten minutes, perhaps longer.

He only knew that when the singularity above his head finally began to shrink, extinguish, and dissipate, his body had become—

Different.

Completely and utterly different.

He looked down at his hands.

His skin was a shade deeper than before, and his palms had faint golden patterns, like fissures left after lava cooled.

He clenched his fist, and the sound from his knuckles wasn't the "crack" of bone, but a deeper, resonant hum, like metal under pressure.

He looked up.

On the sea surface, the stellar light he had blocked was shining down once again.

On the Cause and Effect Fate Platform, the panicked crowd had yet to recover from the sudden alternation of darkness and light.

And Yang Hang stood on the deck of the Houseboat, the surrounding sea—

Was empty.

Centered on the golden Houseboat, a massive, bottomless spherical depression had been burned into the sea for ten thousand meters in all directions.

The seawater formed a wall of water at the edges, slowly flowing back toward the center in a way that defied fluid dynamics.

His Houseboat had been protected by his Power of Causality, floating in mid-air, with that bottomless sea pit directly beneath the deck.

The rock layer at the bottom of the pit had been vitrified by the high temperature, glistening with an eerie, mirror-like sheen under the sunlight that was shining back in.

Yang Hang was silent for three seconds.

"...That was a bit much."

He lowered the Houseboat back to the sea surface. Under the soothing influence of the Power of Causality, the sunken seawater didn't create a devastating tsunami, but instead flowed back docilely, as if gently placed back by someone, filling that massive void.

The sea surface returned to calm.

As if nothing had ever happened.

Except for—

On Yang Hang's personal panel, the information in the [Stellar Body] entry had completely changed.

[Stellar Body (Gold · Talent)]

Current Radiation Absorption: ∞ (Overloaded state, value overflow)

Physical Body Strength: ??? (Exceeds panel calculation range)

Special Effects: Stellar Radiation Resistance MAX | Self-Healing Speed + 4700% | Physical Body Attack Power + ∞ (?)

Note: You broke the panel.

Yang Hang closed the panel.

He stretched his neck, making a "crack" sound.

But the sound was like two continental plates grinding against each other.

He needed to test it.

To test what this body had actually become.

Yang Hang walked to the edge of the deck and looked down.

A few meters below the surface, a three-meter-long Serrated Fish was swimming by.

He jumped down.

He didn't use any abilities, didn't employ the Power of Causality, just simply, like an ordinary person, jumped from the deck into the sea.

The moment he entered the water, what he felt was—

Nothing.

Water resistance? Nonexistent.

Water pressure? Nonexistent.

Breathing? Unnecessary.

He didn't even need to open his eyes; the panel could perceive the flow of every drop of seawater within several nautical miles, the swimming trajectory of every fish, and the location of every reef.

The Serrated Fish sensed his presence, turned, and charged toward him, its mouth full of sharp teeth agape, carrying the typical ferocity of a predator.

Yang Hang didn't dodge.

He extended a finger.

The Serrated Fish's teeth bit into his fingertip.

Then the Serrated Fish's teeth shattered.

Like glass hitting diamond, all forty-plus sharp teeth crumbled the instant they touched his skin, fragments dispersing in the seawater like a miniature snowstorm.

The fish was stunned.

It hovered in place, its mouth still in a biting posture, but not a single tooth remained inside.

It stared at Yang Hang with those lidless, round eyes, likely having encountered such an outrageous thing for the first time.

Yang Hang patted its head.

The Serrated Fish acted as if it had been electrocuted, turned, and fled at the fastest speed of its life, its tail fin kicking up a stream of bubbles.

Yang Hang smiled.

Then he dove deeper.

Ten meters. Fifty meters. One hundred meters. Five hundred meters. One thousand meters. Five thousand meters.

He reached the bottom.

The light had long since vanished; total darkness surrounded him.

The water pressure at this depth was enough to crack the hull of an ordinary submarine, but for him, it was like lying in a pile of cotton.

He changed direction.

Ten thousand meters. Thirty thousand meters. One hundred thousand meters.

He saw something.

A deep-sea behemoth with a body length exceeding a thousand meters, measured in kilometers, was curled up in a trench on the seabed, like a sleeping mountain range.

Luminous deep-sea creatures were attached to its skin, like fireflies on a mountain.

Yang Hang stopped in front of it.

Compared to this behemoth, he was like a speck of dust floating before its nose tip.

The behemoth sensed him.

An eye nearly a hundred meters in diameter opened slowly, its vertical pupil contracting in the darkness, focusing on that "speck of dust."

It emitted a sound.

Not a roar, not a screech, but a kind of ultra-low-frequency hum that could vibrate internal organs directly.

If it were an ordinary person, at this distance, this sound alone would be enough to shake their internal organs into mush.

Yang Hang frowned.

"Stop making noise, it's annoying."

He threw a punch.