Chosen: Beyond Fate

The air seemed to freeze solid.

As Ji Jue’s words echoed through the room, every bloodshot, fanatical gaze turned toward Lian Cheng, fiery hot, suffocating him. Those stares felt like nooses for the soul, tightening around his neck one after another. Gradually, they closed in. In the creeping chill, there was nowhere left to escape.

The very aberrant creatures he had once manipulated at will, treating them like puppets to be deceived and controlled, had now become blades hanging over his head under Ji Jue’s guidance. This sudden turn of events felt like Lian Cheng had fallen straight into hell.

He still remembered how just days ago, when his plan first began, the entire Time Ruin had been filled with vitality and chaotic momentum. Everything was flourishing. How had it all turned into his grave?

Lian Cheng was drenched in cold sweat as he stared fixedly at Ji Jue across the table, breathing heavily. He almost wished he could transform into one of the aberrant beasts on the second floor, tear this damned brat apart, chew his bones, devour his flesh, and make him scream in agony for days without end.

But now, if he hesitated even a moment longer, the one shattered to pieces would be himself. He no longer had a choice.

“Alright.” He forced the word out through clenched teeth, struggling to maintain a smile. But without a mirror, he had no way of knowing how distorted and strained that smile truly looked.

Ji Jue, seated across the table from him, slowly raised his hands and applauded with great enthusiasm. The aberrant creatures in the room followed his example until the eerie meeting room was filled with thunderous applause and loud cheers. The director and the doctors all raised their hands to wipe their faces. Their eyes were blurred with tears as they applauded this sacred act of sacrifice.

Amid the applause, Ji Jue and Lian Cheng stared at each other across the table. Both wore smiles, yet the difference between them was as clear as day. One was false, while the other was genuine. The contrast only made Lian Cheng look all the more pathetic. When their gazes met, savage malice collided with calm composure.

Lian Cheng widened his eyes, engraving that disgusting smile deep into his memory as sweat dripped down his brow. Only now did he truly feel the uncontrollable chill spreading through his body and soul. He had already stepped one foot off the cliff, and the other was barely holding on...

Under the gazes and laughter of the aberrant beings, he had no way back. He could only move forward.

Much like how he could barely remember entering the conference room, Lian Cheng had no memory of how he’d ended up where he was. Escorted by the crowd, he moved like a walking corpse, carried along by forces beyond his control. Step by step, he was led toward the deepest part of the inpatient building, toward the gigantic mass of flesh suspended overhead. He stepped toward the countless anguished faces embedded within it, their endless screams echoing through the darkness.

Like devoted cultists, strange and twisted doctors surrounded him, clapping while offering praise and smiles. They watched as the new sacrifice walked toward the altar of his own accord.

Under the pale white lights stood a restraint device resembling an electric chair. Layers upon layers of bloodstains overlapped, so old no one knew how long they had been there. They had dried, scabbed over, and turned into a shocking dark red that was almost black.

At the front of the crowd of doctors, the director wiped away what seemed like unstoppable bloody tears, clapping as he praised and sang, “This is the call of the heart. This is love’s devotion. This is the spring breeze of humanity. This is the fountain of life. Even Death will hesitate before it, and flowers of happiness bloom everywhere.”

Amid the anguished wails of the countless faces writhing within the mass of flesh, the other doctors followed along, their eyes brimming with tears. “Ah, if everyone would offer just a little love, the world would become a better place!”

The hymn was repeated again and again, yet there was not the slightest trace of warmth in it. Pairs of crimson eyes stared right at the two people about to step onto the platform, unable to wait any longer.

Lian Cheng swallowed and took a deep breath. But then he heard that voice behind him again, the very voice that instinctively sent a chill through his entire body. There was a hint of amusement and mockery in it. “You know, if you admit defeat, surrender, and beg for mercy now, there’s still time to turn back.”

Lian Cheng stiffened. He spun around and glared at Ji Jue.

“Dream on!” he said through gritted teeth.

Ji Jue was still smiling as he looked forward. “Then let’s pretend I didn’t say anything. By the way, I was lying just now. Even if you kneeled and started crying and begging, it wouldn’t help anymore. That was such an obvious lie, you didn’t actually believe it, did you?”

Lian Cheng trembled. He took a harsh, deep breath. His face quickly flushed red, then turned pale. In his eyes, layers of blood vessels burst, the red growing deeper and more intense.

I’m going to kill you!!! I will definitely kill you! Even if a Supreme Benevolence comes, it won’t matter. Right here in this Time Ruin, I will tear you to pieces.

“I will tear you to pieces...” Ji Jue mumbled. “That was what you were just thinking, wasn’t it?”

Lian Cheng said nothing. In his shock and disbelief, he forced himself not to look back. Yet the chill born from his fury continued to spread through him, beyond his control.

“After you, sir.” Ji Jue stepped forward, gesturing politely. “Your noble sacrifice awaits.”

Lian Cheng stiffly raised his hand and shoved Ji Jue aside roughly. Then he stepped forward and, amid the surrounding cheers, sat down on the “electric chair.” Pale lights, like those of a surgical theater, shone down from above. Under their glow, even his twisted face seemed to take on an air of sorrowful sanctity.

The director stepped forward. He fastened the cold restraints into place around Lian Cheng’s wrists, ankles, and neck, locking him down completely.

All around him, the applause continued without pause, the hymn-like chanting never stopping. The perfectly synchronized applause rang out once more. One clap sounded, then another, then another. With each thunderous beat, the enormous flesh tumor studded with countless human faces and pierced by black, blade-like structures pulsed in tandem with the applause, like a beating heart.

Flesh writhed and churned as tendrils resembling limbs pushed their way out of rotting, withered tissue. They crawled forward in thin, twisting strands, creeping up the electric chair. Then, at last, they plunged into the back of Lian Cheng’s neck.

A scream unlike anything heard before resounded from the inpatient building. It was so loud and fierce that it sounded as though every soul trapped between life and death had borrowed his lungs and throat to cry out in utter despair.

Lian Cheng’s body convulsed violently and uncontrollably. Bulging veins crawled up his neck, spreading across his face. Tears, mucus, saliva, and every other bodily fluid poured from him without restraint. Lian Cheng shook so frantically that it seemed his body might tear itself apart. Another eye opened on his face. His flesh kept shifting, as if something monstrous beneath his skin was writhing in fury.

The implantation of the Undying Disease was complete, but this gift from White Hall was far more terrifying and oppressive than he had ever imagined...

Within the Heretic Cult, all core members had long been infected by higher-level corruption. Throughout years of coexistence, they had developed resistance far beyond ordinary Chosen Ones. The corruption had become part of them, something woven deep into their very bones. They had been completely stripped of humanity.

After suffering the corruption of Abominations, the matrix within Lian Cheng had completely broken away from its original Supreme Benevolence and instead aligned itself with the Vortex. Its core was powered by the blessings of the Abominations, gifts far more violent, irrational, and cruel than those granted by Supreme Benevolences.

After all, even the various paths of Supreme Benevolences had compatibility issues. Origin and White Deer would clash so fiercely they could practically tear each other apart. Heart Core and Ascension had never seen eye to eye. Ruins and Mirror were incompatible by nature. And the repulsion between the Nine Abominations was even more severe.

Having already undergone transformations brought about by different higher Abominations, Lian Cheng was now being infected by the Undying Disease as well. His body felt as though it had become a battlefield between two savage wills, each trying to tear the other apart. Strands of flesh burst from his body, extending from his mouth and nostrils. They writhed wildly in every direction while his body rapidly swelled and mutated.

The electric chair shook wildly, nearly shattering from his struggle.

The director stepped forward. Reaching into the massive flesh-tumor, he pulled out a jet-black blade, aimed it at Lian Cheng’s gaping mouth, and drove it all the way to the hilt.

As blood erupted like a fountain, Lian Cheng’s screams became even more horrifying. Yet, unbelievably, under the blade’s penetration, the corruption actually stopped. Large sections of flesh decayed and disintegrated into ash, leaving only a heavily distorted and barely recognizable body twitching weakly.

The worsening of the Undying Disease... had been suppressed?

Ji Jue leaned in to examine him closely. He reached his hand into Lian Cheng’s mouth, grabbed the hilt of the blade, and pulled it out slightly.

Instantly, another bloodcurdling scream cut through the air. Lian Cheng shrieked and wailed as the corruption began flaring up again.

Ji Jue pushed the hilt back in. The corruption halted once more, and Lian Cheng once again slumped into a near-death state.

“It actually works!” Ji Jue raised his eyebrows, impressed.

If not for the fact that so many doctors were watching, he would have pulled the blade out and pushed it back in a few more times just to test it properly. Might as well treat this like a performance and enjoy the sound effects. What a pity, there would be no such opportunity again.

Even in that brief moment of contact, he still sensed the strange aura contained within the blade. There was no doubt about it. Just like the Undying Disease, it bore the unmistakable traces of corruption.

Using another form of corruption, one that also originated from the Nine Abominations, it forcibly suppressed and weakened the effects of the Undying Disease. It was like drinking poison to quench thirst, or fighting poison with poison.

On the surface, it seemed to work, but only to a limited extent. Even if the curse within the blade temporarily killed off most of the cells, as long as even a single infected cell remained, it would rapidly revive. And upon revival, it would become even more aggressive, further eroding flesh and soul, making the condition worse than before.

The reason the situation hadn’t deteriorated for so long was simply that every infected person who had fused together within the hospital building was already terminally ill. Their condition had reached rock bottom, with no way left to worsen.

No, that kind of treatment was more like a transformation.

By simply perceiving the aura of the blade and processing the feedback transmitted by Pacifier during that brief moment, most people would have probably not drawn any conclusions. But for Ji Jue, it felt strikingly familiar. It was as if the Undying Disease were being used as a breeding ground, with that aberrant life serving as the foundation for something entirely new.

That method sounded awfully familiar. Where had he seen it before?

He rested his chin in his hand, thinking. Then, a wrinkled old face with a sinister, cackling grin surfaced in his mind.

Lawrence!!!

The underlying concept of using life as a foundation and implanting foreign elements to achieve transformation was virtually identical to the Vortex Cultivation Method.

The methods and forms differed, but the principle was the same. The only difference was that the vessel and the artifact had been replaced by patients suffering from the Undying Disease, while the resulting fruit had become something far more dangerous.

He never expected that after all this time, the significance of his encounter with Lawrence would only keep increasing. But then again, the Heretic Cult, the Dragonrite Society... Did these bastards have some kind of villain technique exchange club?!

In that brief lull, the face on the electric chair, once covered in tears and snot, finally calmed down. The patient gradually emerged from the agony and torment, regaining a measure of clarity.

Even as people helped him to his feet, he still forced himself to raise his head with every bit of strength he had left. His eyes locked onto Ji Jue, filled with even deeper hatred than before. “Next. It’s your turn!”

All the strange gazes of the doctors turned toward Ji Jue. Yet amid that malice, so thick it almost felt tangible, Ji Jue acted as though nothing more than a gentle breeze had brushed past him. He simply smiled and said, “Alright.”

Raising his hands, he straightened his collar and emptied the assorted clutter from his pockets, things like pens, a notepad, and a bead bracelet, setting them aside. Then he stepped forward with long strides toward the electric chair.

“Come on, hurry up.” He rubbed his hands together, visibly excited. “I can’t wait to dedicate my life to the cause of medical science!”

That utterly casual attitude made Lian Cheng’s heart tighten, and his eyes widened. Somehow finding some lingering strength, he shoved aside the people supporting him and staggered forward, reaching out with trembling hands to feel Ji Jue’s face, hands, and body as though he was searching for something.

Just as he was about to feel further, Ji Jue grabbed his hand. “That’s enough, that’s enough. Any more would be impolite!”

Lian Cheng froze, unable to understand what was happening. It wasn’t an illusion. There were no tricks, no sleight of hand. He could clearly sense that the person in front of him was a genuine Chosen One, with not a trace of aberrant aura on his entire body.

So what was the problem? How could he possibly dare to do this?

Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong.

But there wasn’t enough time left for him to search for any new clues. Doctors were already stepping forward to fasten restraints and shackles onto Ji Jue, who calmly allowed himself to be handled, even joining the other doctors in singing. “In the wasteland without love, even Death will hesitate before it, and flowers of happiness bloom everywhere...”

Hey, not bad. This song actually sounds kind of heart-warming.

“You...”

Right in front of him, Mr. Qian, who was personally fastening the shackles onto Ji Jue, paused. The exaggerated smile on his face seemed to shift for a brief moment, as if he wanted to say something.

He stared at Ji Jue but said nothing. He simply patted Ji Jue’s shoulder. “You’re a good one. You’re the best resident doctor I’ve ever trained.”

Ji Jue smiled. “Everything for the patients, right?”

Mr. Qian turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the crowd of white-clad aberrations until he was impossible to pick out from the rest. Only the increasingly fervent singing echoed on, while the massive flesh tumor pulsed rhythmically overhead.

Flesh and tendrils stretched and unfurled. They climbed up along the electric chair, piercing Ji Jue’s spinal cord in an instant.

The sensation was cold and oddly refreshing, carrying an unexpected thrill. Ji Jue blinked. Lian Cheng also blinked, then he blinked again. Unable to stop himself, he leaned closer.

There were no screams nor cries of agony, not even the slightest abnormal reaction. Not even the rhythm of Ji Jue’s breathing had changed, but the implantation of the Undying Disease had clearly already begun!

Everyone’s attention was fixed on Ji Jue. Nobody had noticed that, behind them, among the pile of odds and ends Ji Jue had casually set aside, a spirit matter spider no larger than a fingernail crawled out from the cap of a pen. Carrying a tiny rolled-up record book, it quietly scurried away.

In the “electric chair,” Ji Jue's expression finally changed. Lian Cheng stared, almost unable to stop himself from laughing.

Ji Jue belched. The one who should have been screaming in agony instead looked up curiously at the director. “Has it started yet? I don't feel anything. Did the patient skip a meal or something?”