2 Years…
Under the dense forest, a lone figure lay motionless, as if dead. Yet, if one listened closely, faint breathing could still be heard. His breathing was heavy—ragged—and his body was a bloody mess. Even the ground beneath him was stained crimson. The soil and grass around him exuded a terrifying deathly aura, as though death itself had taken root there.
His color had long changed to a shade of crimson—the same as Meng Meng's blood.
For two long years, Meng Meng's body had continued to breathe in and out, subconsciously absorbing spiritual energy. Slowly, his body mended itself. Almost 80% of his strength had recovered, and if fortune allowed, he would fully heal within one or two months—unless a miracle happened sooner.
He slowly opened his eyes. Resentment filled his gaze as he struggled to stand. His entire body trembled. His sea of consciousness was in disarray, and though the wound on his arm had closed, his hand was gone forever. He was now a cripple.
He took a deep breath. Killing intent surged from his body. He roared—an earth-shaking roar filled with boundless rage and sorrow.
"Not even in my forty years of life have I felt such pain! Not even when my entire sect was annihilated! This… this hatred…"
Meng Meng's eyes burned with fury. He dreaded the one who had taken his arm but swore an oath in blood: he would grant his enemy a death so painful that he would beg for mercy before the end.
Slowly, his killing intent subsided. His eyes softened, and in a voice so calm that even someone standing beside him would struggle to hear, he whispered—
"Ping… you were with me for eight years. In those eight years, you made me feel I had someone I could rely on—someone of my own."
A sharp pain gripped his heart. He didn't know why these emotions tore through him. His mind throbbed, ready to burst.
"Why… WHY!!"
He screamed until his throat bled. Twin streams of blood-red tears flowed down his cheeks. His eyes—scarlet and deranged—would make anyone who saw him think of only one word: madman.
Chaotic waves of spiritual energy erupted from his body. His aura became unstable—this was spiritual deviation. His Dao trembled, and his emotions spiraled out of control. The freedom he once sought was now in shambles. Anger, hatred, sorrow, and fear flashed across his face one after another.
Cold sweat drenched his forehead. Breathing heavily, he took out a pill, swallowed it, and sat cross-legged in meditation. His divine sense entered his sea of consciousness. There were no cracks—no signs of damage—but his soul orb had only one star left.
That single star had been rekindled after two years of unconscious recovery. Meng Meng frowned and examined his meridians—they were intact.
But then, pain struck again—this time inside his head. His mind fell into chaos. He grabbed his skull, bit his tongue, and his body convulsed violently, as if his soul were being pulled from his flesh.
Spiritual energy spiraled madly around him, condensing and swirling like a storm. He spat a mouthful of blood and fell to one knee. At that moment, a realization dawned upon him.
He directed his divine sense inward—not toward his soul, but his body.
Lightning-fast, his sense scanned every corner of his being—until it reached his head.
And then, his heart froze.
Half of Meng Meng's brain was gone. Worse yet—a small creature was devouring what remained.
His face turned deathly pale. Terror filled his eyes. He immediately poured all his spiritual energy toward his head, forming a barrier of pure light. The creature screeched and was thrown back.
Meng Meng gritted his teeth and began driving his fingers into his own skull, forcing the parasite out. Blood poured down his face, staining his clothes crimson once more.
The pain was indescribable, but he knew—if he didn't act now, he would die. With a roar, he used every ounce of his remaining strength. He found the squirming creature, seized it, and tore it out of his head.
A surge of blood followed. His trembling hands were soaked scarlet, but in his grasp writhed the parasite that had nearly devoured him alive.
He gasped for breath, biting his tongue to stay conscious. The flowers around him soaked up his blood, their crimson petals regaining their sinister luster.
Meng Meng took another pill and began healing. As his wound closed, he trapped the parasite inside a spiritual seal. Slowly, he inhaled and exhaled, drawing in spiritual energy. The pill worked its wonders, and after a month, his wound fully healed.
He stood, looked to the sky, and smiled faintly.
"Meng Meng… why must you struggle? Just die—you'll be free…"
His expression darkened. His eyes turned cold as he stared at the parasite he had captured.
"This…" he muttered, confused. His hand moved subconsciously toward the creature. "Stubborn parasite."
It was a Mind-Eater, a parasite known to devour the brains of living beings. Though only a second-stage creature, it was deadly enough to threaten even a Golden Core cultivator.
He tossed it into his bag of holding and looked behind him. The crimson flower swayed gently. He hesitated, then picked it up as well, placing it beside the creature.
But as he did, sorrow flashed across his face. Two tears slid down his cheeks.
He raised his remaining hand to his throat and whispered—
"Why… did you leave me here…?"
His voice broke. A chill ran through his body.
Boom!
Smoke erupted around him. From within the smoke, a figure emerged—Meng Meng. His eyes blazed with killing intent. Rage consumed him.
Everywhere his gaze landed, chaos followed. The forest trembled beneath his wrath.
Boom! Boom!
Flames devoured the dense woods. Every beast below the fourth stage was slaughtered. Only two words echoed through the forest—
"Painless death!"
Meng Meng's slaughter began. Blood mist filled the air. His laughter echoed like thunder, like the will of Heaven itself.
His eyes were blood-red as he faced a fifth-grade beast—an Emerald Bear. Every exchange was deadly. Meng Meng coughed blood, his clothes torn, deep scars marking his back and face. Yet his will remained unbroken. Laughing like a madman, he shouted—
"I am the absolute! One day, I will crush Heaven and Hell beneath my feet!"
Retreating ten steps, he raised two fingers, his voice chilling—
"Painless Death!"
The Emerald Bear lunged, its claws sharp enough to slice through steel—but it was futile. Deathly aura gathered from the countless corpses of beasts around, condensing at Meng Meng's fingertips.
The bear was ten feet away when the Death Beam burst forth. It pierced straight through its chest—a clean kill.
Meng Meng laughed madly. His eyes slowly shifted from bloodlust to confusion. His mind wavered.
The forest was silent, save for the sound of crackling flames and distant screams. Bodies of beasts lay scattered, blood soaking the earth.
Then, countless memory fragments flooded Meng Meng's mind.
He saw himself holding the severed head of a beast. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead. His soul trembled.
He understood.
With a voice barely above a whisper, trembling in horror, he said-
"Split… personality!"