Nine Venoms Sect Founder - Chapter 146: Enslave the Gods

Spiritual Incense flowed out of Harun’s cracked body, merging with the coiling serpent whose height increased to 10 meters. But even as his wounds healed at a rapid pace, blood dripped from Harun’s injuries, fusing with the devastated ground to produce a bed of thumb-sized plants. Too absorbed by Harun’s condition, at first, Jiyan didn’t care for the plants’ rise. But when the floral species multiplied across dozens of square kilometers, laced in a foreign scent that filled both Mukri and her with a sense of foreboding, her eyes grew dignified. Thunderous cries pealed from the floral legions as they twisted and morphed into spiritual mandrakes. With emerald leaves and brown roots, those mandrakes carried the most toxic energies Jiyan had ever come across of. At the roots, the faces of wrathful demons took shape, giving the eerie plants an oppressive aura.

Jiyan had two choices: destroy them all, or watch them grow into whatever they aimed to. Her eyes darted between Harun and the growing mandrakes, which by now had reached one million, yet still kept growing. Worse, some split into two, three, four, and so much more—yet retained the same virulent potency. Jiyan couldn’t tell if those creatures somehow benefited Harun’s cultivation. After all, they stemmed from his blood. But at the same time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the world would be a better place with them six feet under. This hesitation would forever alter the pattern of the Mountain Edge World.

The fiendish mandrakes shrank to become dark-green worms from which tiny tendril-like roots stretched out. Akin to shooting stars, each raced across the atmosphere, passing through the air, sky and ground as they escaped toward unknown locations. The cracks on Harun’s body vanished, but though all his external wounds seemed healed, Jiyan could not shake off the feeling that perhaps…she’d committed a terrible mistake. For once Mukri kept his mouth shut, he too unable to foresee the consequences of this lapse.

Rousing from his momentary torpor, Birandar glanced at the two, seeing in their grave looks that a major event just occurred. Only Dolma Doll remained stoic. Worse, with a broken soul held up by the plague lords’ spiritual venoms, whenever she didn’t have clear commands driving her, the puppet sank into a vegetative state and lifelessly stood on her knees.

Knowing that she could not handle an incident she did not understand, Jiyan focused on what mattered the most: Harun.

“We’re moving Harun and the Abyssal River back to the Dark Stone City. As we wait for him to wake up, Gulseni’s spies will watch out for any change in the First Range. Let’s go,” Jiyan ordered. Just like Dolma before her, Jiyan couldn’t seal the Abyssal River in a cosmic pouch, or any other storage device for that matter. At the same time, she could only summon its powers when she stood in its vicinity. This wouldn’t change until she reached profound enlightenment in the Mysteries of Life, Blood and Space. Pushing her Devil Essence to the limits, Jiyan placed one hand on the ground, attempting to excavate all that supported the Abyssal River. Meanwhile, she sent her puppet a mental order, commanding her to assist her efforts. With the two joining hands, carrying the Abyssal River across the sky became a simple matter. A floating island rose into the sky, leading fuzzy Mukri, weak Birandar, Dolma Doll, unsettled Jiyan and comatose Harun back to the Dark Stone City.

As all would expect, the barrier didn’t stop them. Still lying in his coffin, Mehran welcomed them through his royal guard, freeing his personal quarters for Harun’s use. Gulseni’s spies got to work, and for several days, the Birusk clan watched over the comatose Harun. Little did they know that, failing to recognize an intruder, the barrier let something else pass, enabling the God-ruled Mountain Edge World to kick-start a new age.

…

One of the six grand nations that dominated the First Range’s secular life, the Treasured Jewel Country seduced its neighbors and tributaries through its massive supply of red diamonds, black opal, and most importantly, jadeite. Not to be confused with the lower quality jade, jadeite was a prized and scarce material that, throughout the omniverse, ranked at the very top of luxury stones. Regardless of the world and history, jadeite somehow became the most coveted stone, as if all lives were destined to gravitate toward it. And while all knew of its mystical properties and irresistible appeal, very few dared carve it into jewelry. Only the Ancestral Land’s citizens knew the reason behind this supernatural phenomenon: the Devil’s Will.

Even in the Treasured Jewel Country, jadeite was more a symbol of luck and heavenly blessing than a marketed stone. Around it, to say nothing of mortals, even celestials and gods behaved. Jadeite’s protection enabled the Treasured Jewel Country to escape much of Dolma’s treachery, and although they too bowed to the Soul Refining Hall, Weeping Soul never once let his disciples encroach on the jadeite-blessed areas. In recent days, those mineral spots had turned into massive churches where the grand nation’s billions of citizens prayed to the jadeite veins for safety. All knew of the chaos ransacking the jadeite-free areas of the Treasured Jewel Country and therefore fled toward the country’s largest veins to escape the scourge.

In the past, this worked just fine. But as the Treasured Jewel citizens kowtowed toward the mineral veins, nanoscopic worms raced across the atmosphere and infested 15% of the refugees! Settling in the unaware men and women’s hearts, the worms spread their tendril-shaped roots throughout their hosts’ bodies, making them swell with bulging gray veins. The victims’ eyes went bloodshot, and to their relatives and friends’ shock, they all collapsed, writhing and gasping as if a formless force compressed their lungs.

“Ohh…”

“Ugh…”

“AAAAAAAARGH!”

Muffled cries turned into full-blown screams as the victims’ skin tone turned into a dark-gray. Under the alien worms’ manipulation, the very nature of the victims’ bodies and genes changed, evolving for arcane purposes. Dark-green cocoons wrapped all the infested, making panic fill the refugees’ ranks. Across the First Range, this scene replayed in 15% of the population, billions twisted and reshaped by hordes of ever-multiplying worms that sang victory hymns in their hosts’ bodies.

For three days and three nights, the transformation carried on. Terror-stricken friends and relatives had no choice but to abandon their loved ones and rush to safer grounds, leaving the transforming victims to their fate. Authorities attempted to destroy the scourge before it arose, but were reduced to ashes by dreadful bursts of noxious energies.

About 20% of the First Range’s population had fallen to Dolma’s attacks, leaving roughly 16 billion behind. From those survivors, 2.4 billion creatures emerged, breaking free of their noxious cocoons to return to their homes and kin—not quite. Driven by an eldritch link, the infested citizens left their houses to gather in packs. From mutated wolves to humanoid plant monsters, none retained a human shape—united only by their green color and the guiding voice within their mind: Harun’s voice.

That voice spoke to the newly ascended mutants, granting them a singular purpose:

“Cleanse this world of its corruption, exterminate all cultivators, and enslave the gods!”