Chapter 150: The Soul Only Knows
"Not bad."
He nodded, his tone flat, but the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.
For a Viltrum, "not bad" was already high praise.
Debbie, meanwhile, took a sip of the soup first.
The moment the soup entered her mouth, her eyes lit up.
"This soup is well-stewed," she said. "It's very fresh, no fishy smell. The collagen from the tail has been simmered out; my lips are even sticky."
Mark smiled and didn't say anything.
He was still waiting.
Waiting for the final dish.
He brought out the cooked crocodile head.
The massive head was presented whole on a large porcelain platter. After being soaked in the braising liquid, it was a deep soy-brown color, emitting a rich aroma of spices.
Mark had already stripped away the hard outer skin, leaving only the chewy meat beneath—cheek meat, tongue root meat, and jaw meat; every piece was a delicacy.
Maeve looked at the dish, somewhat puzzled.
"Is this just boiled in plain water?" she asked.
The crocodile head on the plate did indeed look plain, with no sauce or garnish—bare, like an emperor with no clothes.
Nolan didn't understand either.
He looked at it for a long while and frowned.
Debbie went straight to the point and asked her son, "Is there some specific reason this dish must be boiled in plain water?"
All three turned their questioning gazes toward Mark.
Mark smiled slightly, then pulled out a glass from under the dining table.
A transparent borosilicate glass, its walls thick and heavy in his hand.
He placed the glass next to the crocodile head, then pulled a small cloth bag from his pocket. Unfastening the drawstring, he revealed a pale yellow powder inside.
"The final step of this dish is only happening now."
His voice was unhurried, carrying the characteristic composure of an old-school gentleman.
"First, sprinkle on some New Mexico's Mouthful of Fragrance Salt and Pepper."
He pinched a bit of the salt and pepper, raising it high and letting the powder fall as evenly as snowflakes onto the crocodile head.
The salt and pepper landed on the braised meat, seeping into the grain and intertwining with the aroma of the meat.
"Next, add some piping hot olive oil."
The olive oil was extra virgin imported from Spain, with a rich fruity aroma and a sharp, peppery kick.
He poured the oil into the glass, then picked it up and held it close to the candle flame.
The heat from the flame transferred through the glass wall. The oil's temperature began to rise, and small bubbles rose from the bottom of the glass, making a faint crackling sound.
Ripples appeared on the surface of the oil, and the aroma began to release.
"Finally, add a bit of the stewed meat sauce."
He ladled a spoonful of thick soup from the pot where the crocodile tail was stewing and added it to the glass.
The soup was milky white, and when mixed with the golden olive oil, it formed a warm amber color.
The boiling oil churned in the glass. Mark picked up a spoon and stirred it evenly.
Oil, soup, and salt and pepper—three different substances perfectly fused in the heat, creating a brand-new, multi-layered sauce.
"The Soul Sauce—"
Mark picked up the glass and held it high.
"Pouring it on~~"
The amber sauce poured down from the rim of the glass, evenly drenching the crocodile head.
The moment the hot oil touched the braised meat, a violent sizzle erupted, sounding like a summer rainstorm hitting a scorching stone slab, or the first crackle of flames licking dry wood.
A rich meat aroma instantly filled the air.
It wasn't a simple meat scent, but a complex, three-dimensional, and layered ocean of fragrance.
The spicy scent of the salt and pepper hit the nose first, followed by the fruitiness of the olive oil and the richness of the meat sauce, and finally the lingering notes of star anise, cinnamon, and bay leaves from the braising spices.
All the aromas intertwined like a symphony, echoing in the small dining room.
Debbie's eyes lit up.
Nolan gripped his knife and fork tighter.
Maeve reached out directly.
"Let's eat," Mark said.
Nolan was the first to act.
He used his fork to spear half of the crocodile head and shoved it into his mouth.
The sound of teeth crushing bone was crisp and pleasant; he chewed twice and swallowed.
Then he speared the other half, stuffed it in whole, chewed again, and swallowed.
He ate quickly, yet his movements remained elegant—at least by Viltrum standards, this was considered elegant.
Maeve ate the cheek meat.
That was the most tender part of the crocodile head, only two small pieces hidden behind the eye sockets.
With a gentle flick of her fork, the meat peeled away whole, and she put it in her mouth.
She closed her eyes, chewed twice, and let out a satisfied sigh.
"It's delicious," she said. "The fragrance of the salt and pepper and the richness of the braising liquid blend perfectly, and the olive oil elevates all the flavors. This pouring step is truly the finishing touch."
Debbie ate the tongue root meat.
That part of the meat was firm and chewy, and it had absorbed the braising flavor perfectly.
She ate in small bites, pausing after every chew as if savoring it carefully.
"Mark," she said, "when did you learn to cook like this?"
Mark was dealing with his own portion of steak.
He cut the entire steak into strips and stuffed them into his mouth one by one, like eating noodles.
Hearing his mother's question, he smiled.
"Learned it from books," he said. "Cookbooks are books, too."
Debbie didn't press further.
She had grown used to her son displaying an astonishing, unexplained wealth of knowledge in certain areas.
When Mark and Nolan ate meat, they chewed up and swallowed everything, bones and all.
A Viltrum's digestive system could break down even steel; mere crocodile bones were just a matter of a few extra chews.
Regardless, eating it and having it in the stomach were the same—it would all eventually turn into energy, muscle, and strength for the next battle.
Debbie looked at the father and son's identical eating habits and shook her head helplessly.
Then she turned her head, watching Maeve sip her soup in small mouthfuls, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.
"Maeve," she said, "is Mark's cooking to your liking?"
Maeve looked up, a faint flush of satisfaction on her face.
"Very much so," she said. "Better than what's made in restaurants outside."
Debbie smiled.
"That's good," she said. "In the future, whatever you want to eat, just have Mark make it. If he dares to be lazy, tell me, and I'll deal with him."
Mark was chewing on a bone and almost choked when he heard this.
"Mom," he said, "when have I ever been lazy?"
Debbie glanced at him.
"Not now," she said, "but who knows about the future."
Nolan chuckled to himself on the side. After being glared at by Mark, he immediately wiped the expression from his face and pretended he hadn't heard a thing.
After dinner, Debbie and Nolan went back to their room early.
Before leaving, Debbie gave Mark a meaningful look, then glanced at Maeve, a "been-there-done-that" smile on her lips.
"You youngsters, get some rest early," she said.
Then the door closed.
Only Mark and Maeve were left in the living room.
The candles were still burning, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
Mark finished clearing the table, put the dishes in the dishwasher, and sat back down on the sofa.
Maeve leaned in.
Her head rested on Mark's shoulder, her hair spilling out with the faint scent of shampoo.
Mark looked down and kissed the top of her head.
"Are you tired today?" she asked.
"Not tired," Mark said. "It's just cooking, not fighting."
Maeve laughed.
"You don't even get tired when you fight," she said, "so you certainly won't get tired from cooking."
Mark didn't deny it.
He wrapped his arm around Maeve's waist, pulling her closer to him.
Maeve leaned in even closer, nestling completely into his embrace.
Chapter 151: The Azure planet
The living room lights were dimmed.
The candles had been blown out, leaving only the moonlight streaming in through the window.
The silvery-white light spread across the floor like a thin layer of frost.
The two of them stayed like that in silence.
No one spoke, yet no one felt awkward.
It was a comfortable, familiar silence—a wordless understanding shared only by those closest to each other.
Maeve's fingers traced circles on Mark's chest.
Mark took her hand, their fingers interlacing.
"Maeve," he suddenly spoke.
"Hmm?"
"I'm planning to go out to take care of some business."
Maeve looked up at him.
The moonlight shone on her face, her eyes as bright as the stars.
"What is it?"
Mark fell silent for a moment.
"Something very important," he said, "but it won't take too long."
He didn't specify what it was, and Maeve didn't press him.
She simply nodded and buried her face in his chest.
"Is it dangerous?"
"It's not dangerous," Mark said.
This was the truth.
To him, a trip to Viltrum was essentially no different from going to a grocery market—you go to pick out the strongest one and then pay.
Except he didn't pay with money; he paid with his fists.
Maeve's fingers tightened slightly.
She didn't say anything more, but Mark could feel her heart skip a few beats.
After a long while, she finally spoke: "And after you return?"
Mark lowered his head, his lips close to her ear.
"When I return, let's get ready and get married."
The moonlight fell silently upon them.
Maeve didn't say a word.
She only held Mark tighter, her face buried in his chest, her shoulders trembling slightly.
After a good while, she finally looked up, her eyes slightly red, but with the corners of her mouth turned up.
"I will always support you," she said.
Her voice was soft but firm.
Mark looked into her eyes and smiled.
"I know."
"Do you need my help?"
"No," Mark shook his head. "It'll be over soon. Half a month at most."
Maeve nodded.
She believed him.
If he said he didn't need help, then he didn't.
If he said half a month, then it was half a month.
This man never broke his word.
She tilted her head up and gave Mark a light peck on the corner of his mouth.
Then she stood up and, holding Mark's hand, walked toward the bedroom.
The moonlight cast two long shadows behind them, intertwining until they were indistinguishable.
The night was already very deep.
Mark lay in bed, his arm around Maeve.
She was already asleep, her breathing steady, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, with a faint blush still lingering on her face.
Mark didn't sleep.
He stared at the ceiling, many thoughts racing through his mind.
Viltrum, the Grand Regent, Nolan's plan, Earth's future.
These matters were like a tangled mess, but he had enough patience to unravel them one by one.
Maeve stirred in his arms, burrowing closer to him, muttering something indistinctly before falling back into a deep sleep.
Mark lowered his head and pressed a kiss onto her forehead.
"Soon," he whispered. "Wait for me to return."
Deep in the Universe, a planet called Planet Lyuthris was bathed in the soft light of its star.
It was a highly prosperous civilized planet whose developmental trajectory was remarkably similar to that of ancient Earth, with technology, society, and urban structures carrying a familiar sense of order.
Yet the beauty of Planet Lyuthris was something Earthcould never compare to.
The buildings across the entire planet were not made of cold steel and concrete, but were constructed from a clear, translucent crystal that shimmered with a cyan-green luster.
Skyscrapers like crystal bamboo shoots pierced the clouds, long bridges like emerald bands of light spanned the horizon, and even the most ordinary residences seemed carved from light and glass.
As the sunlight fell, the entire planet sparkled, as beautiful as a fairyland from myth.
The race living on this planet was known as Lutrama.
They were humanoid beings whose bodies were primarily silver-white, occasionally accented with crimson and azure patterns; their skin was as smooth as glaze, without a single extra wrinkle.
Their heads were rounded and smooth, with no hair, no external ears, and certainly no distinct nose or mouth like a human's.
Most striking were the pair of huge, bright, pupil-less eyes on their faces, like two lamps of Eternity that never go out, their gaze calm and solemn, devoid of any superfluous emotion.
In the center of the chest of every one of the lutruma people was embedded a diamond-shaped glowing timer.
Normally, the light was a gentle and steady blue, symbolizing the fullness of life and energy.
Once physical strength was overexerted or energy was nearing depletion, the blue light would abruptly turn into a rapidly flashing crimson, like the Universe's coldest warning.
Their height was not exaggerated, mostly hovering between 1.7 and 1.9 meters, much like ordinary humans.
Elegant, sacred, orderly, and peaceful.
This was the Lutrama civilization, a brilliant civilization that had bloomed quietly in a corner of the Galaxy for tens of thousands of years.
No one could have imagined that this tranquility would be completely torn to shreds today.
The first signs came from deep within the Earth.
First came a slight tremor, like the breathing of a distant behemoth, spreading silently.
The streets built of cyan-green crystal shook slightly, and the towering buildings emitted a faint hum.
The lutruma people stopped in their tracks, and for the first time, confusion flickered in those eyes that usually knew neither sorrow nor joy.
In the next moment, hell arrived.
Boom—!!!
The ground erupted with a roar.
Countless massive cracks spread frantically from underground, like the giant claws of the Grim Reaper, savagely tearing through the surface of Planet Lyuthris.
The cyan-green crystal buildings were as fragile as paper before absolute brute force, collapsing with a crash as shards flew everywhere.
Dust and debris surged into the sky, blotting out the sunlight and instantly dragging the once crystal-clear world into darkness and despair.
A gargantuan claw covered in rough rock armor suddenly burst forth from the ground.
The claw was so large that a single swipe could crush a hundred-meter-tall crystal skyscraper.
Next came a hideous head, a thick neck, a spine covered in bone spurs, and muscles bulging like small hills.
A terrifying behemoth, dark red all over and standing over forty meters tall, slowly rose from beneath the Earth.
Its eyes were burning lava, its mouth and nose exhaled sulfur and ash, and every step it took caused the ground to cave in.
Super Ancient Monster: Rock Hell Behemoth.
It was as if some forbidden floodgate had been opened.
After the first monster appeared, the Earth never knew peace again.
In the ocean, colossal waves surged as a monster with a slender body covered in cyan-blue scales burst from the Water; it could spray high-pressure jets of Water, and a single sweep of its tail fin brought about the annihilation of entire cities.
In the sky, dark clouds rolled as a monster with giant bat wings, its entire body wreathed in black Fire, soared through the air; wherever it passed, the cyan-green crystals melted away.
From deep within the magma, a monster that fed on Fire and had a body like an active volcano roared forth; with every breath, it could spew flames hot enough to melt steel.
Beneath the deserts lurked monsters clad in sandy carapaces, experts in underground ambushes.
Within the permafrost, skeletons frozen for ten thousand years were revived, turning into cold killing machines.
Even from the void, twisted, writhing, bizarre creatures carrying eerie psionic fluctuations slowly descended.
One after another.
One type after another.
Terrifying forty-meter-class behemoths sprang up like bamboo shoots after a rain, frantically emerging across every continent, every ocean, and every sky of Planet Lyuthris.
They had no reason, no mercy—only the most primal desire for destruction.
The city of cyan-green crystal wailed.
The order of civilization was collapsing.
Years of peace were crushed to dust beneath the monsters' feet.
The Scientists of Lutrama, in their despair, recognized the identity of these monsters.
They were Super Ancient Monsters.
They were ancient beasts that had existed since the planet's birth, the incarnations of chaos and destruction.
In the distant ages before the Lutrama civilization had risen, their ancestors had engaged in endless bloody battles with these monsters.
It was a history of ultimate darkness, with corpses littering the land and civilization on the brink of extinction several times.
Ultimately, their ancestors gave everything they had to suppress and seal all the Super Ancient Monsters, forcing them into a permanent slumber deep underground.
For that victory, the ancestors paid an unimaginable price.
And precisely because the monsters were completely suppressed, later generations of lutruma people no longer needed to maintain the massive bodies required to contend with such behemoths.
Over the long ages, they continued to evolve, discarding their forty-meter-tall combat forms.
Instead, they pursued the prosperity of spirit, technology, and civilization.
Their physical size also shrank step by step, eventually stabilizing between the current 1.7 to 1.9 meters.
Chapter 152: Monsters!
They thought the darkness had long since departed.
They thought the war had long since become a legend.
Yet they never expected that today, tens of thousands of years later, the nightmare would repeat itself.
On the streets, the lutruma people were fleeing in a frenzy.
Their usually elegant and solemn demeanor was completely gone, their giant eyes filled with fear as their frantic figures darted between the collapsing crystal buildings.
"The monsters are here!!!"
"It's the Super Ancient Monsters! They've awakened!!"
"Run!! Don't look back!!"
Cries, screams, and desperate roars intertwined.
One of the lutruma people wept bitterly while sprinting: "Why... why did such monsters appear! This... this is as terrifying as the Viltrums!!"
His companion's face turned pale, and he suddenly covered his mouth, his voice trembling almost out of tune: "Shut up! Do you want to die?! Viltrums... are ten thousand times more terrifying than these monsters!! They are gods, demons, monsters that can destroy an entire planet with a wave of their hand!!"
At the mention of those three words, all the lutruma people shuddered from the depths of their souls.
In the galaxy, the Viltrumite Empire was the butcher's knife hanging over all civilizations.
They were a natural warrior race, possessing infinite strength, capable of flying and burrowing, ignoring cannons, and traversing the Universe with their physical bodies.
In the face of absolute power, any technology, any defense, any resistance seemed pale and ridiculous.
Monsters were scary.
Viltrums were even scarier.
The Planet Lyuthris Defense Force mobilized quickly.
Sleek fighter jets streaked across the sky, rows of ground mechs advanced in formation, and energy cannons, missile pods, and beam weapons were all activated, pouring firepower onto the rampaging monsters.
Explosions erupted one after another, flames soared into the sky, and energy beams exploded on the monsters' rough skin, yet only left shallow scorch Marks.
This was a scene that would only appear in a tokusatsu drama—the defense force giving their all, fighting a bloody battle against giant monsters.
But this time, the number of enemies was beyond imagination.
Those crawling on the ground, flying in the sky, swimming in the water, burrowing in lava, floating in the void... monsters emerged continuously like a tide.
The more intense the gunfire, the more violent the monsters became.
The defense force's fighter jets fell one by one, mechs were crushed one after another, and the defensive line collapsed layer by layer like paper.
The city was destroyed.
Homes were gone.
Loved ones were dead.
Planet Lyuthris was already riddled with scars after years of warfare.
The green crystal city had turned into ruins, the earth was full of cracks, the oceans were polluted, and the sky was shrouded in black smoke all year round.
The once prosperous civilization was now left with only despair and silence.
The lutruma people huddled in the remaining shelters, waiting for death to arrive.
They had lost.
Completely and utterly, they had been defeated.
Just when everyone thought this civilization was about to be completely annihilated.
Hope arrived.
In the void of the Universe.
Two figures were traveling through the dark galaxy at speeds exceeding the speed of light.
The leader, with a tall build and a young face, radiated hot and violent sun ion energy—it was Mark Grayson.
Not far behind him followed a middle-aged man with a more composed aura and eyes as deep as the starry sky—Nolan Grayson.
The father and son had been flying continuously for several days.
They were getting closer and closer to the home planet of the Viltrumite Empire.
Reaching the atmosphere of a dead planet, Mark and Nolan were finally able to communicate.
"Dad, I'm starving to death."
Mark rubbed his stomach with a hint of helplessness in his tone, "After not eating for so many days, although I'm not exactly hungry, I feel a bit empty."
Nolan nodded slightly, his gaze scanning the surrounding stars: "Find an uninhabited planet to rest and have a simple bite to eat.
It's necessary to stay in peak condition since we're about to return to Vitrum."
As soon as he finished speaking, Mark's eyes suddenly lit up.
He suddenly looked down at the planet wrapped in green light, a startling brightness erupting in his eyes.
"Whoa—!!"
"Dad, look! The meat on that planet is huge!!"
Nolan followed his gaze, and his pupils also shrank slightly.
On Planet Lyuthris, giant forty-meter-class monsters were rampaging.
Those massive bodies, those full muscles, those explosive frames were not monsters at all in the eyes of Viltrums, but walking top-tier ingredients.
Nolan took a deep breath, a hint of uncontrollable shock in his tone: "Indeed... the meat quality looks quite good."
Mark's eyes lit up, and he rolled up his sleeves on the spot, his fighting spirit boiling: "Wait here! I'll go down and grab a few to satisfy my craving!"
Before his voice had even faded.
Mark's figure blurred as he dived straight down from the Universe.
All over his body, sun ions surged wildly.
Golden light erupted from every inch of his skin, wrapping around his body and making him seem as if he had become light itself.
The light tore through the atmosphere, turning into an extremely brilliant golden meteor, falling toward the ruined continent of Planet Lyuthris.
At this very moment.
On the ground.
A Rock Hell Behemoth was raising its giant foot, stepping down hard toward a group of lutruma people huddled in the ruins.
For a forty-meter-tall monster, that one step was enough to completely crush everyone along with the city ruins into meat paste!
death was close at hand!
A lutruma child, in despair, instinctively looked up at the sky.
His large, bright eyes suddenly froze.
The child reached out a small finger, trembling as he pointed at the golden light streaking across the sky, shouting in a naive and terrified voice: "Light!!"
The parent beside him was desperately holding the child and fleeing, having no mind to care about any light, dismissing it as the nonsense of a frightened child.
"Don't talk nonsense... where is there any light..."
Before the words were finished.
That light had already arrived before them.
Shoom—!!!
The golden light flashed and vanished.
So fast the trajectory was invisible, so fast it exceeded comprehension, so fast it was as if time had been skipped.
The next moment.
A dull, massive explosion suddenly erupted!
The forty-meter Rock Hell Behemoth that was about to crush everyone had its chest directly pierced through!
The massive wound was as smooth as a mirror, lava-like blood gushed out, and its huge body shuddered violently, falling powerlessly toward the ground.
But it didn't crash down.
That golden light actually lifted the forty-meter-tall giant beast with one hand, as if carrying an insignificant little chicken, and continued flying forward!
Mark hovered in mid-air, looking down at the scarred planet beneath his feet.
Looking at those lutruma people who looked almost exactly like Ultraman, his brows furrowed sharply, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch.
He ranted frantically in his heart.
"What kind of bootleg Ultraman is this?"
"It's one thing for Invincible to parody U.S. comics, but now it doesn't even let Ultraman off the hook?"
Looking at this group of lutruma people with silver-white bodies, giant eyes, timers on their chests, and no mouths or noses, Mark was momentarily dazed.
They were similar, too similar.
They were simply a scaled-down version of the giant of light.
Chapter 153: giant of light!
But in the next second, an extremely interesting thought suddenly burst from the bottom of Mark's heart.
He might not be unable to... act as an incomparably righteous giant of light for once.
Anyway, it's just a temporary guest role, just for fun.
Thinking of this, a wanton curve hooked at the corner of Mark's mouth.
"In that case..."
"Then leave this group of monsters to me."
BOOM—!!!
The light on Mark's body suddenly surged!
He no longer held back any power. The power of solar ions burned frantically, turning into an incomparably bright golden meteor that pierced through heaven and earth, flashing across the sky of Planet Lyuthris!
Speed, reached the extreme.
Power, reached the extreme.
Light, reached the extreme.
Like a true giant of light, he descended upon this despairing planet.
Mark dove down and threw a punch.
BANG—!!!
The head of a forty-meter-tall Lava Monster was directly blown apart by a single punch. Its massive body crashed to the ground, lava blood splashing everywhere.
Mark's figure flashed, appearing behind a Flying Monster, and he delivered a hand-blade strike.
RIP—!!!
The monster's giant wings were sliced clean off. It fell from the sky, smashing heavily onto the ruins, unable to move ever again.
A monster opened its mouth to spray a destructive energy beam.
Instead of retreating, Mark advanced, charging straight into the beam, letting the energy blast against his body while remaining completely unharmed.
He grabbed the monster's neck and gave it a violent twist.
CRACK.
The monster died on the spot.
Mark roamed wantonly through the sky, the earth, the ocean, and the lava.
Everywhere he passed, monsters fell in swaths like grass being mowed.
Not a single Super Ancient Monster could take one of his punches.
Not a single giant beast could withstand him for an instant.
Those terrifying monsters that had plagued the lutruma people for years and destroyed an entire civilization were as fragile as infants before Mark.
He was the light.
He was the God of War.
He was the savior who had descended here.
The sky gradually cleared.
The earth gradually settled.
The ocean gradually calmed.
When the last monster let out a despairing wail and crashed to the ground.
On the entire Planet Lyuthris, every single monster had been wiped clean.
Silence.
A long silence.
The lutruma people stood blankly in the ruins, gazing at that golden figure hovering in the sky. Their giant eyes were filled with awe, worship, and tears of joy for what was lost and found again.
They had survived.
They were saved.
"Hero..."
"He is a hero!!"
"A hero who fell from the sky!!"
"We will remember him forever!!"
In the crowd, someone spoke with a trembling voice: "Such a great hero, how should we address him?"
One person had a sudden inspiration and shouted loudly: "Why not call him Mountain-Sized Super Mighty Overlord!! It sounds both domineering and powerful!"
The surrounding crowd immediately burst into complaints.
"That sounds terrible!!"
"What kind of strange name is that!!"
"No, no, absolutely not!"
Just then.
The child who had previously pointed at the sky and shouted "Light" looked up again at the golden figure and said softly in a naive and sincere voice: "His body is glowing... let's just call him the giant of light, okay?"
"He's clearly the same size as us, yet he's as magnificent as a giant..."
In an instant.
Everyone fell silent.
This name was gentle, sacred, fitting, and struck straight to the soul.
"Good!"
"Let's call him the giant of light!!"
"From now on, he is our Planet Lyuthris's eternal giant of light!!"
The lutruma people cheered excitedly. Gazing at the figure in the sky, hope was rekindled in their hearts.
Some even secretly hoped in their hearts—if the giant of light were willing to take action, perhaps... they would also have a chance to overthrow the rule of that terrifying Viltrumite Empire.
And at this moment.
On a deserted island on Planet Lyuthris.
Mark was dragging the massive corpse of a monster, sharing a meal with Nolan.
This was a Lava Monster that looked somewhat like Red King, with a thick body, two astonishingly large fists, and knotted muscles full of explosive power.
Nolan leaned to one side, looking at the monster remains scattered across the ground, and couldn't help but tease: "You're quite kind-hearted, solving this group of aliens' planetary civil strife on the way."
Mark gnawed on a piece of monster meat and waved his hand nonchalantly: "Just a whim, done in passing. Besides... this meat is truly delicious."
As his voice fell, he once again set to work, eating in huge gulps.
The Lava Monster spent all year soaked in magma, so its meat came with a wild and uninhibited charred aroma. It didn't even need extra cooking to have a somewhat well-done feel.
It was full of chewiness, the meat fragrance was rich, and every bite was filled with a sense of power.
The father and son were both Viltrums.
That was a terrifying race whose physical bodies could withstand the gravitational pull of a black hole. Their stomach's compression ability could be called top-tier in the Universe; no matter how massive the food, they could swallow it easily.
A monster a full forty meters tall decreased at a speed visible to the naked eye under the two men's frantic eating.
Nolan's appetite was relatively restrained, eating only half as much as Mark.
Mark, however, let loose completely.
He had an almost obsessive persistence regarding eating.
Especially after obtaining this invincible body.
And the reason he was so frantic was not just because of hunger, but because he believed in a school of thought from the bottom of his heart.
The Darwinian School.
All living creatures in the world have a reason for their existence; this is the original intent of the Darwinian School.
And the disciples of the school follow an iron rule carved into their marrow—whenever you see a living thing, you must taste it personally.
Regardless of status, beauty or ugliness, or flavor, one must eat it in its entirety to witness the Way of all things with one's tongue.
Deliciousness is a blessing; bad taste is cultivation.
Leaving not a single bite is the highest respect for life.
Years ago, the school's founder, Darwin, and his disciples once captured an owl and boiled it in plain water without adding many seasonings.
When the meat was served, the disciples only forced down a few bites before showing difficult expressions, crying out that it was terrible and refusing to touch their chopsticks again.
Darwin, however, did not change his expression and ate everything cleanly from beginning to end, leaving not a single bit.
He only said faintly: "Any life has a reason for its existence. Since it has been cooked and served, it should naturally be eaten in its entirety to count as not failing this encounter."
Mark had always liked this story.
Especially after having this current stomach and intestines that weren't afraid of anything and had heaven-defying digestive capabilities.
In his eyes, as long as it wasn't a humanoid-looking creature in the Universe, he could almost always try it for freshness.
He didn't want to be some Hannibal, but with his current culinary skills, he might not be unable to recreate a Hannibal-style Manchu Han Imperial Feast.
Respect life, start by clearing your plate.
A moment later.
The forty-meter-tall Lava Monster was eaten completely clean by the two of them, without even a single bone left.
Mark patted his stomach with a look of satisfaction.
"That was refreshing."
"As expected, the feeling of having something in your stomach makes one feel at peace."
Nolan stood up and looked into the depths of the Universe, his gaze becoming solemn: "Let's go, it's time to head back."
Mark nodded, and a golden light once again rose from his body.
The father and son took off simultaneously, turning into two streaks of light, breaking through the atmosphere and re-entering the pitch-black Universe.
They traveled rapidly through the galaxy.
They flew for an unknown amount of time.
Mark's eyes suddenly lit up.
At the end of that endless starry sky.
An incomparably blue, incomparably beautiful giant planetwith a circle of pure white planetary rings slowly appeared in their field of vision.
That was.
Viltrum.
Their destination.
Chapter 154: Planetary Ring
Mark Grayson approached the planetary ring.
The closer he got, the heavier his expression became.
That young face, usually carrying a hint of a smile, was now taut like a piece of cold, hard iron.
Not because of fear, not because of nervousness.
He was long past being troubled by such emotions.
It was because what he saw before him exceeded the weight any comic, any text, or any imagination could bear.
The planetary ring was not composed of ice crystals and rock.
Instead, it was made of corpses—countless corpses, dense and layered upon one another.
Floating in the orbit of the planet Viltrum, they formed a pale and jarring halo.
Those corpses wore white Viltrumite Empire uniforms, shimmering with a dismal silver-white hue under the faint light of distant stars.
Some were whole, some were mangled, and some had frozen into ice sculptures, their faces locked in the expressions they wore at the moment of death;
Others were still slowly rotating, arms slightly spread and legs slightly bent, as if performing a final dance in the Universe.
Tens of billions.
The population of the Viltrumite Empire at its peak numbered in the tens of billions.
And now, these once-proud conquerors, these War Machines that had once made countless planets tremble,
Were left only as this ring of remains, circling their former home, as if declaring the end of a civilization to the Universe.
It was not war.
It was a viral catastrophe.
A deadly virus that spread quietly through the Universe, specifically targeting the genetic structure of Viltrums.
Of course, that was for the current Viltrums.
But Mark knew this was a virus specifically engineered by Thaddeus using Viltrum genes, targeted at Viltrums.
It was silent, colorless, and odorless, erupting during the peak of the Viltrums, reaping tens of billions of lives like a sickle cutting wheat.
The empire that once spanned the galaxy disintegrated in just a few decades, leaving fewer than fifty survivors scattered across every corner of the Universe.
And those who died were dragged by their kin to the orbit of their home planet, stacked layer by layer, accumulated year after year, eventually forming this ring of remains.
Mark hovered at the edge of the ring of corpses, watching it all in silence.
The vacuum enveloped his body; there was no wind, no sound, only absolute silence.
His super vision could clearly see the faces of every corpse—some young, some old, some with peaceful expressions, others twisted and ferocious.
Most of their eyes were closed, but some were open, their empty sockets gazing into the endless void, as if questioning fate, as if waiting for someone to return.
Nolan flew downward.
Whether it was a coincidence of timing or some arrangement of fate, he didn't know.
His gaze locked onto one corpse, which was floating on the inner side of the ring, wearing more ornate white clothing than the others.
On its chest was the badge of an Imperial General, and dark red traces still remained on the shoulder armor.
That was blood, frozen into ice crystals in the vacuum, yet still striking.
Nolan gently embraced the corpse of that Viltrum.
It was an elderly male Viltrum with a resolute face, his features bearing a strong resemblance to Nolan and Mark.
His eyes were closed, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, as if he were sleeping, or perhaps smiling.
His hands were crossed over his chest, clutching a broken longsword.
The blade had snapped in the middle, the break jagged, as if it had been severed by a single strike during some battle.
Clearly, Viltrums did not use swords.
It was likely that his old man felt his Own Grandfather was living too boringly and often brought some gifts to decorate for him.
Although it felt strange, it seemed acceptable when applied to Viltrums.
A species capable of living for thousands or tens of thousands of years would inevitably have some traits beyond ordinary people.
One could not speak in a vacuum.
But Mark understood who the person before him was.
His grandfather.
Nolan's father.
He also slowly approached the corpse, his expression solemn, as if mourning.
He had also watched the anime and knew clearly that the person before him was one of the few Viltrums who could retain a certain level of humanity after going through such a high-pressure society.
As for the form of expression of this humanity, it was indeed a bit Viltrum.
For example, when his grandmother wanted to beat his old man to death, at least this Own Grandfather stepped in to stop her.
Otherwise, Mark wouldn't have come into this world.
Just based on the fact that he could slightly protect his son, his Own Grandfather could be considered a rare philanthropist among the Viltrums.
After all, when his old man faced children of his own kin who said the wrong thing, his first reaction was always to crush their skulls in one go.
One could only say that this was just so Viltrum.
"I will end all of this, grandfather, whom I have just met; I promise you..."
Mark said in his heart.
He reached out and gently touched the back of the corpse's hand.
Cold, hard, like a sculpture.
But Mark could feel the warm blood that had once flowed beneath that coldness, the pulse that had once beaten beneath that hardness.
That was the pride of a Viltrum, the final dignity of a warrior.
At this very moment, one of the bodies in the pile, pretending to be a corpse, suddenly moved!
It was a female Viltrum, relatively petite, wearing a white uniform similar to the corpses, but the muscle lines beneath the uniform were smooth and full of power.
She had been lurking in the ring of corpses, suppressing her aura, feigning death, waiting for prey to take the bait.
She had adjusted her breathing frequency to synchronize with the surrounding vacuum, minimized her heartbeat, and even lowered her body temperature to freezing point.
This was an external planetary defense personnel of the Viltrumite Empire.
Her mission was not to fight, but to keep watch—to sound the alarm before the enemy approached, to delay time, and to wait for reinforcements.
But today, she did not intend to only do that.
Just a moment ago, she had sensed the arrival of Nolanand Mark.
Those two figures flew in from the depths of the starry sky, one after the other, carrying a vitality that did not belong to this land of dead silence.
She recognized Nolan—the great Nolan, the former pride of the empire, the warrior who had been missing for many years.
She also noticed that young man—black hair, black eyes, with a faint golden light flowing beneath his skin.
A half-breed.
A mongrel.
"Since when did a mongrel dare to set foot on the holy land of Viltrum?"
And now, at the moment when the two were at their most relaxed.
Nolan was holding his father's corpse, and Mark was mourning.
She lunged out from the pile of corpses!
Her speed was extreme, leaving a trail of afterimages in the vacuum.
Her gray-white hair was braided into a ponytail, trailing behind her like a bolt of silver lightning.
And at the very end of the ponytail was tied a sharp blade.
The blade was dark silver, its edge gleaming with a cold, piercing light.
It was forged from the hardest metal known in the Universe, capable of easily slicing through Viltrum skin.
Between the blade and the hair was a layer of bio-magnetic field, almost invisible to the naked eye, which firmly fixed the two together, ensuring it would not fall off during high-speed movement.
She came straight to Mark's back, raised the blade high, and fiercely stabbed at the back of Mark's neck!
Chapter 155: The scourge virus
That strike had been long premeditated.
The angle was tricky!
It sliced into the gap between the third and fourth cervical vertebrae of the back of the neck.
That was one of the weakest spots for a Viltrum, and the area where the neural centers were most densely packed.
The speed was pushed to the absolute limit!
Even for Nolan, it would have been difficult to dodge if caught off guard.
Her gaze was as cold and sharp as a blade.
In her over six thousand years of life, she had carried out countless similar missions and had never failed.
But Mark was not Nolan.
The next second—Mark turned around.
The movement was incredibly fast, so fast that Thula only saw an afterimage.
So fast her retinas didn't have time to form an image, so fast her consciousness didn't have time to react!
Then the blade in her hand was easily caught by a palm.
Thula's pupils constricted violently.
She saw those eyes.
They were a pair of eyes radiating golden-red light, like two miniature suns burning before her.
The light pierced through her pupils and her consciousness, making her momentarily forget who she was and what she was doing.
Those were the eyes of a predator, a gaze that only a creature at the top of the food chain could possess.
"You—!"
The words hadn't even left her mouth.
Two golden-red beams of light shot out from Mark's eyes, directly piercing through Thula's abdomen!
The beams exploded silently in the vacuum, blood mist blooming like flowers before quickly freezing into tiny red ice crystals floating between the two.
Simultaneously, Mark's other hand swung out in a Viltrumite Hand Chop, striking the blade and the ponytail attached to it.
The blade snapped on Shockwave, emitting a dull hum that conducted only through solids.
The ponytail was severed at the root, and those silver-white strands of hair, now free from their binding, drifted slowly in the vacuum like a silent snowfall.
Mark held the broken section of the blade in one hand and crushed it into fragments right in front of Thula.
His fingers slowly closed, and the metal capable of slicing Viltrum skin was squeezed, deformed, and shattered within his palm.
First it bent, then it cracked, and finally it burst!
The fragments grew more numerous and finer, eventually turning into countless tiny metal shavings.
Those shavings suspended in the vacuum, drifting slowly due to the lack of gravitational pull, becoming part of the planetary ring.
Mixing with those tens of billions of corpses, they could no longer be distinguished from one another.
Thula's expression shifted from bewilderment to terror.
She had personally watched the weapon that had accompanied her for thousands of years.
That metal, which she had traded countless military merits for and was claimed to be the hardest in the Universe, crumbled like a biscuit in that palm.
Even the Grand Regent probably couldn't do this, right?
Just what kind of thing was this guy in front of her?
Thula knew all pure-blooded Viltrums, and there was absolutely no young man like Mark—which meant this guy was a half-breed!
Since when did a half-breed's strength surpass a pure-blood's?!
Before Thula could think it through, Mark pressed a hand against her face right under Nolan's shocked gaze.
That palm was broad with distinct knuckles, and his fingertips still bore faint scorch Marks from crushing the metal just now.
It steadily covered Thula's entire face, leaving only one eye exposed.
Thula's eye bulged wide, reflecting Mark's burning golden-red pupils.
Then—she felt it.
A terrifying force compressed her head, like a mountain pressing down, like a planet falling.
Her cervical vertebrae groaned, her jawbone trembled, and her eyeball filled with blood.
Then her entire body broke through the planetary ring at an incredible speed, charging straight toward the surface of Viltrum!
Just as they pierced the atmosphere, Mark's cold voice rang out.
The voice echoed in the thin atmosphere, carrying a metallic hardness and an unquestionable majesty.
The wind howled in her ears and flames burned at her sides, but that voice was clearer than anything else.
"I appreciate your decisive sneak attack, my compatriot."
Thula's ears were being pressed by the palm, but the voice seemed to penetrate her skull directly, exploding in her mind.
"But you interrupted me while I was paying respects to my grandfather."
Thula wanted to struggle, wanted to say something, but that hand remained motionless.
Her teeth bit into Mark's palm, but it felt like biting into neutron star matter—not even a Mark was left.
"Regarding this—I am very unhappy!"
A terrifying Shockwave came from the back of her head.
In the time it took to say those two sentences, Mark had slammed Thula from the atmosphere down onto the surface of Viltrum!
BOOM—!!!
The earth tore open and caved in!
A crater nearly a hundred meters in diameter formed instantly upon Shockwave. The shockwave spread outward, kicking up a sky full of dust!
The dust was grayish-white, carrying the unique mineral scent from deep within Viltrum's crust, forming a pillar of smoke that shot into the thin atmosphere.
The back of Thula's head was embedded in the rock layer, her entire body pinned to the center of the crater.
Her body shuddered violently from the Shockwave, her bones making overwhelmed creaking sounds.
Her face was pinned down hard by Mark's palm, with only one eye exposed, and that eye was full of bloodshot veins and terror.
"Don't worry, I won't kill you."
Mark's voice rang out again, terrifyingly calm.
He crouched down, looking down at Thula from above. Those golden-red eyes looked like two ghost fires in the dust.
"The number of pure-blooded Viltrums is too small."
"With every one lost, I would feel distressed."
He paused, his palm applying a bit more force, pressing Thula's head deeper into the ground.
The rock shattered beneath the back of her head with a dull crunch.
"But there are some things you must keep in your heart."
His voice grew colder and colder.
"Because you made a mistake."
The next moment—Mark delivered a Viltrumite Hand Chop, piercing through Thula's abdomen.
The palm stabbed in through her abdomen and out through her back, bringing out a spray of blood mist.
Warm blood splattered in the air, landing on the grayish-white rock layer, steaming and making a sizzling sound.
Thula's body arched violently like a pierced shrimp, an oppressed groan escaping her throat.
Originally, Mark had intended to chop her in half.
But considering her age, he slowly withdrew his hand.
His palm pulled out from her abdomen, bringing out some small tissue fragments.
Blood gushed from the wound, spreading on the ground and staining a large area of rock red.
The current injury was enough to make her suffer for a week.
Mark stood up and flicked the blood off his hand.
The droplets of blood traced arcs in the air, landing on the edge of the crater and seeping into the cracks in the rock.
He looked up toward the sky.
There, someone was still waiting for him.
And in the next second, a sonic boom burst out from beside Mark!
Nolan dropped from the high altitude. He saw someone else about to launch a sneak attack on his precious son and immediately wanted to intervene.
But in the next second—General Craig and Lucan, two Viltrums, appeared!
General Craig was a burly white male, bald with a resolute face, wearing the silver armor of an Imperial General.
The armor was covered in battle scars—scratches, dents, and scorch Marks, each telling the story of the wars he had endured.
His gaze was cold and sharp as a blade as he stared intently at Nolan.
Lucan was a muscular man of Black appearance, covered in explosive muscles that looked as if they were cast from steel.
His bald head glinted in the sunlight, and a golden earring hung from his earlobe—a trophy from when he killed his hundredth enemy.
A cruel smirk hung on the corner of his mouth, as if he were enjoying the impending battle.
The two of them firmly blocked Nolan's advance.
Chapter 156: Forced Kiss
"You have no idea how strong my son is!"
Nolan roared in anger, his voice exploding in the thin atmosphere, making the surrounding dust tremble!
"Do a few more of our kin have to die before you understand what it means for the strong to rule?!"
His eyes were bloodshot, not with burning rage, but with a father's most primal protective instinct.
He would not allow anyone to harm his son!
Even if that person couldn't actually hurt his son, it still wouldn't do!
Before setting out, he had promised Debbie.
Viltrums have always found it difficult to find a suitable opponent.
Because a suitable opponent can repeatedly challenge their limits.
Once the limit is reached, Smart Atoms evolve, recording the state at the limit and turning it into their normal state.
As luck would have it, Nolan had a good son.
Mark's strength has always been above Nolan's.
To help push his old father, Mark would often take the time to give Nolan a sound thrashing.
Normal bruising and muscle strains are painful for Earthlings.
But for Viltrums, Mark would usually beat Nolan until his whole body was fractured—broken ribs, cracked bones, and displaced organs were commonplace.
So much so that the old father's strength had also seen a leap in improvement during this time!
Nolan moved.
His speed was so fast that General Craig only had time to see an afterimage.
That punch was thrown from an unbelievable angle.
With the sound of breaking wind, with the screech of air being torn apart, and with all the anger Nolan had accumulated over two thousand years.
It smashed heavily into General Craig's chest!
"Bang—!!!"
General Craig was sent flying!
His body tumbled a dozen times in the air, like a stone being struck away, and he barely managed to steady himself hundreds of meters away.
He looked down at his chest—the armor there was caved in significantly, almost pressing against his flesh.
A trace of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, standing out starkly against his gray skin.
His face was full of disbelief.
When did the great Nolan become so strong?
He truly lived up to the name "Great"!
Lucan, who was nearby, wanted to help.
He lunged at Nolan, throwing a punch toward the back of Nolan's head!
That punch carried a sonic boom and immense power, enough to shatter an asteroid!
Nolan didn't even turn his head.
It was as if he had eyes in the back of his head; his left hand reached back and firmly caught Lucan's fist.
His palm was like an iron clamp, gripping Lucan's fist tightly without moving an inch.
Lucan's pupils contracted.
Then Nolan countered with a knee strike, slamming it hard into Lucan's stomach!
"Bang!"
The sound was dull and powerful, like a heavy hammer striking leather.
Lucan's eyes instantly bulged, his mouth opened wide, and he let out a roar of pain.
His body bent like a shrimp, his hands clutching his stomach as he tried to retreat.
Nolan didn't give him a chance to catch his breath.
He turned, his right hand forming a blade, and a Viltrumite Hand Chop pierced through Lucan's abdomen!
The palm entered from the front and exited from the back, bringing with it a mist of blood and fragments of internal organs.
A gurgling sound came from Lucan's throat, like a drowning person struggling.
Nolan didn't stop.
He sliced horizontally—his palm moving across Lucan's abdomen, cutting open most of his waist and belly!
Internal organs—intestines, stomach, liver—poured out from the wound, scattering all over the ground.
Those organs were still squirming, still steaming, spreading out like a dark red carpet on the gray-white ground.
Blood gushed out like a fountain, staining half of Nolan's body red.
Lucan collapsed on the ground, his eyes unfocused, but they were still moving.
He used his last bit of strength to lift his head and look at the young man who was entangled with Anissa.
It was Mark.
That half-breed.
That mongrel.
There was shock and confusion in his eyes.
But his own injuries were too severe; he could no longer fly or fight, and could only slump helplessly on the ground.
Nolan stood beside Lucan, panting heavily.
His expression was grim, and there was no joy of victory in his eyes.
He didn't like this.
He didn't want to kill his own kin.
But for Mark—for his son—he was willing to do anything.
Nolan was preparing to rush down and help Mark.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his posture, and flew toward Mark's direction.
The next second, Nolan's charging speed came to a halt.
The old father froze in the air in bewilderment.
His mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide, and his entire expression looked as if someone had pressed the pause button.
The impact of the scene before him was no less for Nolanthan making this Viltrum, who had lived for over two thousand years, relive his entire life.
Those memories...
His father's teachings, the fear of his first time on the battlefield, the trembling of his first kill, the fluttering heart when meeting Debbie, the joy of Mark's birth.
All the images flooded his mind in an instant, only to be crushed to pieces by the scene before him.
What the ***?
What is this? What are you doing?!
In the clearing, Mark held Anissa's wrist with one hand and pulled her into his embrace with the other, fiercely biting her lips!
The action was domineering and skillful, like an experienced veteran picking a flower about to bloom.
His lips were pressed tightly against Anissa's, his teeth gently nibbling her lower lip, his tongue wandering between her teeth, exploring every inch of territory.
Anissa—one of the few female warriors of the Viltrumite Empire, younger than Nolan but equally powerful.
She had short, silver-white hair and a refined, cold face, like a goddess carved by a Renaissance sculptor's chisel.
Her figure was tall and slender, wearing a white Imperial Combat Suit that clung to her body, outlining smooth curves.
At this moment, she was held in Mark's arms, looking completely bewildered.
Her silver eyes were wide and round, reflecting Mark's face in her pupils.
Chapter 157: Guee
Her lips were blocked, and she couldn't make any sound; only occasional faint, kitten-like whimpers escaped from her throat.
She originally wanted to ruthlessly punch Mark Grayson a couple of times, but she found that her hands and feet were all pinned down.
As a Viltrumite, Anissa didn't hesitate for a moment and immediately intended to bite back hard on his lips.
However, as soon as she bit down, something felt wrong.
She bit down with force, her teeth colliding with MarkGrayson's lips as if biting into a steel plate—no, even harder than a steel plate.
Her teeth felt sore and her jaw went numb, yet MarkGrayson's lips didn't even have a Mark left on them.
But at the moment she bit down, Mark Grayson let out a low, satisfied grunt.
That sound was like an electric current, entering through her ears and traveling all the way down her spine, making her feel half-paralyzed with weakness.
It was like dry tinder meeting a blazing fire, a clash of two unyielding forces!
Powerful male hormones surged into Anissa's nose.
It was a primitive scent, carrying the scorching heat of the sun, the wildness of Fire, and an irresistible dominance belonging to a top predator.
Her heart began to race, her blood began to boil, and her limbs began to go soft.
She wanted to push Mark Grayson away, but the hands holding her were like cast iron, remaining motionless.
She wanted to curse him, but her lips were blocked, and she could only make muffled "mhm" sounds.
The way he devoured her was so domineering, yet so gentle.
It was like tasting a ripe fruit, like unwrapping a long-awaited gift, like completing a long-planned hunt.
It must be said that Anissa was indeed as she claimed in the comics—one of the absolute gentlest among the current Viltrumites.
After all, while other Viltrumites only thought of killing, Anissa would at least think of persuading the opponent to surrender.
And now...
Anissa felt like she was about to break.
She struggled but couldn't get free; Mark Grayson's strength was far superior to hers.
And the posture he used to hold her was extremely firm.
His tongue was also very restless.
Like a flexible snake, it wandered everywhere within the cave.
She felt like her lips were about to swell.
That feeling of being repeatedly gnawed and sucked made her feel both ashamed and... and indescribable.
His hands were also very restless.
One of Mark Grayson's hands firmly pinned Anissa's other arm while simultaneously wrapping around her waist.
That hand was large and hot, like a piece of iron just taken from the furnace, pressed against Anissa's waist; the heat seeped through her Combat suit into her skin, making her whole body start to burn.
And his other hand—that palm—was firmly pressed against Anissa's buttocks.
It wasn't just resting there; it was kneading forcefully.
Five fingers sank deep into the soft muscle, like kneading a ball of dough, like shaping a piece of pottery taking form.
Every squeeze carried just the right amount of force, making Anissa's breath hitch, her legs go weak, and her consciousness begin to blur.
Oho...
Anissa's other wrist was firmly grasped by Mark Grayson, making it impossible for her to escape his embrace.
When she finally managed to kick her legs a couple of times, she could feel that thick male member pressing against her abdomen.
Instead, a surge of heat flowed through her entire body, making Anissa feel even more limp.
She wanted to curse him, kick him, and use the combat techniques Viltrumites excelled at to beat him down.
But at this moment, only one thought remained in her mind—
So hot.
Mark Grayson was also thoroughly enjoying the kiss!
She truly lived up to being a caring big sister!
Her physical stats were also top-tier among Viltrumites!
He didn't have to worry about breaking her at all and could release his full strength without any reservations.
He felt the temperature of Anissa's lips and teeth, her gradually fading resistance and growing softness, and the entire process of her going from rigid to limp.
Her lips went from initially tightly closed to slightly parted, from dodging to tentative responses, and her breathing went from rapid to frantic.
Feeling the gradually loosening teeth and the relaxing sweet tongue across from him, Mark Grayson understood even more the Viltrumites' lack of love.
These conquerors, who appeared cold-blooded and ruthless to outsiders, actually craved warmth more than anyone and feared loneliness more than anyone.
If he remembered correctly, it seemed Anissa was still a virgin.
In the original comics, she only lost it during that time she overpowered Mark Grayson.
But now...
Heh heh, just consider this as repaying the debt for your comic book self!
Feeling him kiss her harder and harder, Anissa was almost moved to tears.
Because her buttocks were about to be kneaded into a swollen mess by Mark Grayson.
His hands were too large, too restless, and so hot, constantly kneading her buttocks!
Oh... Guee!
A tingling sensation spread from her buttocks to her entire lower body, making her almost unable to stand.
Seeing Mark Grayson about to go for another French kiss, Anissa steeled herself and bit down hard.
She bit down hard on Mark Grayson's tongue, as if biting into a piece of pork tongue!
But with one bite, Anissa felt her teeth ache, as if she had bitten into a piece of tempered steel.
There was no wound, no blood, only a low chuckle from Mark Grayson's throat.
Even like this, she couldn't break Mark Grayson's defense.
Mark Grayson let go of Anissa, licked his lips, looked at her, and said with a smile:
"Thank you for the treat."
"To hell with your 'treat'!"
Furious, Anissa kicked Mark Grayson hard in the abdomen and, in the gap as she turned, swept her long leg fiercely toward his head.
But in the next second, her ankle was caught by MarkGrayson again.
Mark Grayson directly held Anissa upside down in his hand; his palm was far from well-behaved, stroking from her calf all the way up to the root of her thigh!
That palm started from her ankle and moved all the way up her calf.
The muscles of her calf were tight and firm, her knee bones were distinct, and her thigh muscles were soft and elastic.
His fingers brushed against her inner thigh; the sensation was like a feather, like an electric current, like some unspeakable suggestion.
!?
Anissa's face was now as red as a Fuji apple.
The redness spread from her cheeks to her ears, from her ears to her neck, and from her neck to her collarbone, as if a fire were burning under her skin.
Because she felt it—Mark Grayson had just touched her...!
Although it was just a light touch of the fingertips, the feeling was like an electric shock, making her whole body freeze and her mind go blank.
"You Lecher!?"
It was hard to imagine such a phrase coming from the mouth of a Viltrumite, whose conventional morals were so weak!
Anissa broke free from Mark Grayson.
Of course, the main reason she could break free was that Mark Grayson wanted to flirt a bit with this future little wife.
Then, she saw Nolan Grayson dazed in the air, and General Kregg, who was still spitting blood from the corner of his mouth halfway through his flight, looking at them in shock.
And Lucan, whose waist and abdomen had been hacked apart and who was lying on the ground, still shockingly recording the entire scene with his eyes.
The picture was too absurd...
The old father was suspended in the air, his mouth slightly open, his eyes hollow, as if his soul had left his body;
General Kregg was clutching his chest, a trail of blood hanging from the corner of his mouth, his expression more shocked than if he were seeing the end of the world;
His already precarious hairline seemed to have become a bit more dangerous, looking even more like a bald man.
Lucan lay on the ground, the wound in his waist and abdomen still leaking internal organs.
But his eyes were fixed on Mark Grayson and Anissa, as if saying, "I'm about to die, and you're making me watch this?"
At this moment, Anissa was so filled with shame and indignation that she wanted to find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
She turned around abruptly, but as soon as she did, she saw Thula.
The over six-thousand-year-old Viltrumite was lying in a crater, the wound in her abdomen still seeping blood.
But her eyes were wide open, staring straight at MarkGrayson and Anissa.
Youngsters these days are just too indecent, starting to make out in front of so many people.