108: Chapter 108 Post-War Ruins

The Lord of the Ultimate End's body, so massive it inspired despair, began to crumble and dissipate from its edges inch by inch under Lin Chen's "format" command, like a pencil drawing being erased by an invisible eraser.

There was no deafening explosion, only a heart-palpitating, absolute "erasure."

The massive rift torn into the sky slowly closed, and that eerie blood moon seemed to dim slightly. The terrifying pressure that had continuously blanketed the earth receded like a tide, leaving behind only a deathly silence and... a shocking expanse of ruins.

The once magnificent Underworld Fortress, which Lin Chen had built up using a massive amount of nether talismans, was now over eighty percent dust. The towering city walls were reduced to broken remnants, and the iconic soul suppressing pagoda had snapped in the middle; the eyeball at its peak that once monitored all directions was now dim and lifeless, rolling onto the ground and becoming covered in dust. As for the Ghostly Grand Supermarket, built specifically for enjoyment, not even a single intact brick could be found, and the luxury goods inside that had made survivors green with envy had long since vanished into ash.

“My goods... all gone!” Lin Chen stood in the open space that was originally the Fortress square but was now a pile of rubble, his face terrifyingly dark. He wasn't heartbroken over the Fortress, but over his supermarket filled with various post-apocalyptic luxuries! Those were all exchanged for with hard-earned gold and silver... no, with real nether talismans!

Thick dust and gravel lay beneath his feet, with the occasional glimpse of twisted metal components and congealed dark red blood. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, dust, and an indescribable stench left behind after the dissipation of Bizarre Monsters.

Faint groans and suppressed sobbing began to drift from every corner of the ruins, echoing like sounds from a ghost realm. Survivors of the catastrophe struggled to crawl out from under cover and from piles of corpses, each one grimy and soot-covered, their eyes hollow and filled with fear and bewilderment. The Fortress had originally been densely populated, but now, looking around, people were few and far between—hardly one in ten remained. The casualties were truly heavy.

Su Qingyu's face was covered in black soot, and her originally neat short hair was a mess. There was a deep wound on her arm that exposed the bone, tied simply with a strip of cloth and still seeping blood. But she seemed not to feel the pain, stumbling as she ran between mountains of rubble, hoarsely calling out and digging with her bare hands, searching for any possible survivors.

“Is anyone there? Anyone down there? Answer me!” Her voice carried a sob, yet she forced herself not to let the tears fall. As the “Chief Steward” of the Fortress and the de facto manager under Lin Chen, the immense grief and sense of responsibility were nearly crushing her.

“Sister Qingyu... over here... Brother Zhang, he...” A lucky surviving Ghost Soldier squad leader pointed toward a collapsed wall nearby, his voice trembling.

Su Qingyu's heart tightened, and she rushed over, practically crawling. She saw Zhang Hao's body mostly pinned under heavy reinforced concrete, with only his chest and above exposed. His face was as pale as paper, and his breath was as thin as silk. The uniform Lin Chen had rewarded him with, designed to resist attacks from low-level Bizarre Monsters, was already tattered. A gruesome wound slashed diagonally from his forehead to his chin, with the flesh turned outward, looking incredibly wretched.

The most terrifying thing was that his lower body... had completely lost all sensation.

“Zhang Hao! Hold on! You can make it!” Su Qingyu knelt beside him, fruitlessly trying to move the floor slab pinning him down, but the weight was far beyond her capability.

Zhang Hao's eyelids flickered with difficulty and slowly opened. His gaze was somewhat unfocused, and it took a while before he recognized Su Qingyu. He tried to pull a signature, flattering smile, but only managed to make the corners of his mouth twitch, looking worse than crying.

“Steward... Steward Su...” His voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, “Don't... don't waste your strength... I... I seem to... can't feel... my legs...”

He turned his eyes with difficulty, seemingly searching for something. Finally, he saw that cold figure standing in the center of the ruins, frowning while taking stock of the losses (mainly grieving over the nether talismans).

A final spark of light suddenly erupted in Zhang Hao's eyes. Using all his remaining strength, he called out in what was almost a wheeze: “Mas... Master...”

Lin Chen was drawn by the faint voice and walked over, his boots making a crunching sound on the gravel. He looked down at Zhang Hao, who was pinned and reduced to half a body, his face expressionless. There was neither sadness nor pity, as if he were looking at a damaged object.

“Master...” Zhang Hao stared intently at Lin Chen, his eyes filled with a certain obsession, as he asked haltingly: “Did I... this time... count... as a loyal dog...?”

The question was nonsensical, even somewhat ridiculous. But those present who understood felt an inexplicable chill and heartache. This man, who had been arrogant and overbearing in his past life and had survived despicably in this one, was actually obsessed in his final moments with seeking validation of his "loyalty's" value from a master who viewed him as nothing more than a tool.

Su Qingyu turned her head away, unable to bear watching any longer.

Hearing this, Lin Chen raised an eyebrow, seemingly finding the question somewhat interesting. He crouched down, meeting Zhang Hao's eyes—eyes filled with longing and despair—with a flat, emotionless tone that revealed nothing:

“Well, considering you self-detonated at the end to take out one of that ugly thing's cores...”

He paused, and under Zhang Hao's expectant gaze, he said slowly:

“You can be considered... a dog that passed.”

The words were cold and cruel, devoid of even a hint of warmth.

But upon hearing them, a light of near "satisfaction" suddenly flared up in Zhang Hao's unfocused eyes! It was as if this was the highest praise he could have received. A “he-he” sound came from his throat, like he wanted to laugh but couldn't, and then that bit of light rapidly dimmed. His head slumped to the side, and his final breath escaped.

Even in death, a trace of a distorted sense of "relief" seemed frozen on that half of his face.

Su Qingyu suddenly covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling slightly.

Lin Chen stood up, glanced expressionlessly at Zhang Hao's corpse, then scanned the ruins that looked like a scroll from hell, and the survivors who were shivering and looking at him with terrified eyes.

He gave a soft “tsk,” as if annoyed by the trouble of this mess.

“Those who aren't dead, make some noise.” Lin Chen's voice wasn't loud, yet it clearly reached every corner of the ruins with an unquestionable authority. “Clean up, get ready to...”

The corners of his mouth curled into a familiar, playful, and absolutely confident arc.

“...rebuild our home.”

(Hook: Zhang Hao's tombstone suddenly cracks, and a knocking sound comes from inside.)