Chapter 34

As the warehouse doors opened before him, the floodlights illuminated only the entrance, while the rest was swallowed by darkness. Qin Li knew this would be a deathtrap, a proverbial banquet of betrayal. But against absolute power, all paper tigers were meaningless. With steady steps, he entered. As soon as he did, the heavy doors groaned shut behind him, their mechanical gears echoing in the emptiness.

Unbothered by the closing doors, Qin Li thought dismissively, I didn't plan on leaving yet anyway. I'll smash my way out later. His footsteps echoed in the eerie silence as he ventured deeper. The sound of water dripping broke the monotony, growing louder as he neared a staircase descending into a basement. His presence alone pushed back the oppressive darkness, his divine aura radiating a soft, glowing light.

The dripping sounds intensified as Qin Li descended, signaling the proximity of the Hand's trap. A slightly ajar wooden door greeted him at the base. Without hesitation, he kicked it open. What lay beyond froze him in place. There, suspended upside down from the ceiling, hung the 20 children Hawkeye mentioned earlier. Their lifeless bodies bore gruesome throat slashes, still glistening with blood that dripped onto a bizarre symbol on the floor. In the center of the symbol sat an unsettling figure.

Qin Li's eyes widened in fury, bloodshot with rage. His sharp intake of breath was followed by the sound of tearing fabric as his shirt and suit shredded under the strain of his bulging, iron-forged muscles. Veins snaked across his body like ancient Chinese dragons, pulsating with raw power.

"Well? What do you think of this masterpiece, Father Li? Isn't it exquisite?" A deranged voice croaked from the center. The figure—a grotesquely mutilated Murakami—spoke. His arms and legs were gone, leaving only a torso, surrounded by a circle of lifeless ninjas in Hand uniforms. Blood from their slit wrists flowed toward the central symbol.

"You sick bastard," Qin Li snarled, his voice seething with wrath. "Even death is too kind for you. I'll say it now—not even Mephisto himself can save you from me."

Murakami burst into manic laughter. "HAHAHAHA! The ritual is complete! For revenge—for the pain you made me endure—I will become the vessel of the Dark Void! You will perish by its hand!"

Murakami's body convulsed as blackened blood seeped over him, spreading from the symbol to his neck. Through gasps of agony, he spat, "You will die… and so will everyone you care about! ARRRGHHHH!" His screams echoed as the blackened blood engulfed him, cocooning him in a writhing, grotesque mass.

Qin Li leaped forward, holy light blazing from his hands as he plunged them into the cocoon. The black blood hissed and recoiled, emitting a shrill screech. The substance withdrew, slithering onto the walls like a slimy black slug. The walls sizzled where the liquid touched, releasing acrid smoke. Qin Li withdrew his hand, knowing Murakami was gone. The anger surged anew. I just swore Mephisto wouldn't get him alive, and here he is, gone anyway!

Redirecting his rage, he focused on the writhing black substance. It squirmed erratically, seeming to gather strength. Qin Li raised his hand, summoning a divine shard of light, and hurled it. The substance dodged with an unnerving speed, leaving behind scorch marks where it had been. Qin Li advanced with precision, slamming his glowing weapon into the floor and batting the shard toward the liquid like a tennis ball.

The black mass shifted again, narrowly dodging the shard. Yet the divine light exploded on contact with the floor, splitting into smaller fragments that homed in on their target. The impact vaporized nearly a third of the dark matter, eliciting a bone-chilling screech. Smoke filled the air, and the substance began darting erratically around the basement, clearly wounded but still fast.

Qin Li grew frustrated. The creature's speed and erratic movements made it hard to pin down with precision attacks, and large-scale skills risked collapsing the entire structure—burying the children's remains beneath the rubble. While pondering his next move, the black substance changed form. A grotesque humanoid emerged, its body resembling a person's but with a horrifyingly large mouth that stretched to the back of its head, lined with jagged teeth.

The creature roared and charged at Qin Li, only to be slammed into the floor by his radiant cross. Its body melted into black liquid, flowing away to reform nearby. Though the divine light scorched its exterior, it wasn't enough to destroy it completely.

Realizing the stalemate, Qin Li recalled a powerful skill. It was risky—he'd never used this ability in the real world, unsure of how it would manifest here. But the situation left him no choice. Steeling himself, he raised his left hand to his brow. A massive golden magic circle materialized, filling the entire basement with intricate patterns. The black creature froze, startled, before leaping to the wall, snarling defiantly at Qin Li.

Qin Li summoned a fraction of his divine energy—just one ten-thousandth—and unleashed it through the circle. The basement filled with blinding golden light, the brilliance evaporating the creature instantly. Its death was so swift it didn't even have time to scream. Qin Li quickly deactivated the skill, yet the radiant light lingered, bathing the space in its glow.

As the magic circle receded, faint translucent figures began to emerge within its light. Qin Li squinted, and his heart sank. The souls of the slain children appeared before him. Silent and smiling, they bowed toward Qin Li in gratitude before vanishing along with the golden light.

For a long moment, Qin Li stood still, staring at the spot where the children's spirits had disappeared. His fists clenched. The mission was over, but the weight of their deaths lingered heavily on his soul.