Apocalypse Forecast

It felt as if he had descended into Hell.

On the operating table, Liu DongLi listened to the sounds of instruments clashing against each other, and couldn’t help but imagine—he was an innocent victim, lying on the experimental table of some mysterious organization.

Very soon a bunch of messy biochemical organs and viruses would be stuffed into his body, turning him into some messed-up monster, then a chip would be plugged into his brain, and he’d become the random mob that gets casually chopped down after the protagonist breaks into the enemy base in some fantasy story.

Even as his flesh was torn and cut apart, he still seemed distracted, his mind running through all kinds of ridiculous plots.

He ended up making himself laugh.

Until the lead surgeon raised his head, looked at him, and said with serious eyes behind the mask: "Name?"

"Uh... Huai Shi?"

He hesitated instinctively, and answered like that.

Then he saw the surgeon’s expression turn solemn: "Self-awareness shows signs of disorder, suspend the operation, arrange a brain CT immediately! Maintain Source Substance..."

"No no no, I was kidding!"

He practically dragged the slit in his belly and his dangling intestines as he jumped off the operating table: "I’m Liu DongLi, Liu DongLi, all right?"

"Mr. Liu, it’d be best if you don’t have a sense of humor at a time this serious."

The lead surgeon picked up an oxygen mask, pressed it over his face, then turned back to instruct the anesthetist: "Add fifty grams of Fusais Forgetfulness Potion, use the B4 concentrated model."

"Yes."

Very soon, a faintly purple gas flowed into his mouth and nose, like ice water, dousing all the messy sparks of thought in his brain, suppressing his emotions, leaving only cold, mechanical thoughts.

"All normal, continue the operation—"

Just like that, he lifted the electric saw and split open the layers of steel covering Liu DongLi’s heart in his chest.

Sparks burst!

A shrill sound rang out.

The box imprisoning the Demon was slowly being opened...

The seals Huai Shi had left in Liu DongLi’s body were stripped away layer by layer.

Outside the operating room, behind the floor‑to‑ceiling glass, Peron stood still, expressionless, only clenching the fist behind his back so hard that his iron fingertips scraped and sparked.

Uneasy.

"Don’t be nervous." A voice came from the shadow at his side, full of gleeful schadenfreude: "These things, first time you’re rusty, second time you’re familiar, by the third and fourth it’s just going through the motions... solid, solid!"

In the silence, Peron turned back indifferently to look beside him.

The woman drinking milk tea, and the shadow at her feet, and the huge Flying Bird spreading its wings in the darkness.

"Tong Ji."

"Hm? Need something?"

"If you really have even a tiny bit of intention to comfort me, I only have one request."

"Mm, go ahead, I can swap in a line you like."

"Just don’t talk."

Peron said, "I’m begging you."

"Ahaha, when the gentle father gets mad, it’s really scary."

Tong Ji gazed at the faint storm of Thunder in his eyes, smiled, and said nothing more.

Because a crisp cracking sound rang out.

The final shackle was broken.

Behind the iron shell there was no heart, but a darkness and void, like a rift leading into Hell, where tides surged.

In that instant, Liu DongLi’s eyes went blank and calm.

And in the darkness, a pair of scarlet eyes slowly lifted—their pupils like splendid clockwork dials, countless hands spinning at high speed.

A wailing shriek burst forth. The moment the electric saw was lifted away, a razor‑sharp darkness condensed into the shape of a clock hand and howled out from the rift in the heart.

Yet the lead surgeon’s movements did not change in the slightest; coldly setting down the saw, he once more picked up the instrument in his hand.

Because Thunder burst out of thin air.

With the lift of Peron’s fingers, the power of the Ruler Embryo was crushed in an instant, but immediately after, more razor‑sharp hands flew out from within.

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds...

Each hand brought with it an unreal sense of dislocation, as if time were racing past, yet the next moment, they were smashed to pieces by endless Thunder from the void.

A few slipped through the net and pierced the surgeon’s body, but he expressionlessly held his tools and stabbed into the darkness, his hands not trembling at all.

The shrill sound erupted; in every crack, insects froze mid‑flight and died in an instant.

But in this desolate Border, aside from Peron, the surgical team, and Liu DongLi, there were no other living things.

Tong Ji calmly drank her milk tea, letting those hands that grew from the void itself pierce through her body, only to disperse like a Phantom the next moment.

As if they had never existed.

And from that instant, the coagulation began.

The rift in the heart was rapidly spreading, extending, only to be sealed off by the instrument in the surgeon’s hand; two fist‑sized, half‑spherical complicated devices closed together in the hollow of his chest.

With the Existence Institute’s technology integrated, the newly born law instantly sealed the Ruler’s embryo within.

In the darkness, countless hands spun madly, and a massive, solemn figure suddenly leapt over from the other end of time—the not‑yet‑born Ruler cried out to its own Future self in agony, calling for aid.

Thus, the Ruler in its prime descended from the heavens.

Then, it saw the man blocking its path, his bald head, and his Iron Fist.

The King of Antimony lifted his eyes, a ray of blazing Thunder shooting from the corner.

The Golden Hand was already gripping Its neck, slowly tightening, lifting It up from the ground—just short of the Natural Enemy, that Terrible Power descended here, brutally suppressing the monster’s performance.