I Am Your Natural Enemy

Wen Yan stood on the ground, his body engulfed in crimson-gold flames, but his expression remained very calm.

Personally opening the door to the Ghost era in the South Pacific, it was destined to trigger some bad events later.

Yet at this moment, his resolve only grew firmer.

The saying goes: if illness is in the pores, it can be treated with hot compresses; on the skin, acupuncture and moxibustion can reach it; in the entrails, fire can reach it; in the bones, it belongs to destiny, helpless to change.

Now, it’s at the pores, on the skin, in the entrails, soon reaching the stage at the bones.

Now if the tumor is not excised, the poison scraped from the bones, can we hope that the Nanyang Union, deteriorating into this ghostly state, will solve it on its own later?

By then, to avoid mutual destruction, a world boss at its peak, stepping out could easily enter our territory, forcing some Eastern University to clean up the mess.

By then, any economic loss would be secondary, but how many of ours will die?

In the most extreme scenario, we might see a ghost nation manifesting in this world, a nation extremely hostile to the living.

Wen Yan was devoid of anger, having moved past the stage of fury.

Now he only wished to utilize some scum, converting them into fire potions to heal this stubborn ailment.

Even if it couldn’t be completely cured, at least it could be moved from the entrails to the pores, then there’d be no need for extreme measures, excising tumors, scraping poisons from the bones.

Perhaps then, the scattered small problems could be solved by grassroots Scorching Sun Department personnel.

A massive gathering of lost souls, converging with tens of thousands of previous ones, the gathered excessive Yin Qi and resentment forming a colossal torrent.

Wherever it flowed, all flames were forcibly extinguished, frontline executioners caught within, some shattered lost souls reached out to pull them.

Their souls were swept along by this force, all protections on their bodies now merely thin sheets of toilet paper, tearing at the slightest touch.

In a distant factory, a person bound to the operating table watched countless lost souls pass through walls beside him, trying to say something with hoarse breaths, but no soul touched him.

Then, the monitor emitted a piercing long beep, a soul extracted from the shattered flesh, stepping firmly to join the army of lost souls.

From high above, it appeared like a vast dark-grey river flowing across the land, rushing towards the depths of the large island.

Sitting in the helicopter, the old monk who arrived first, wore a bitter expression, the prayer beads in his hands spinning rapidly.

"What a sin."

Witnessing the surging tide, the old monk knew he was powerless.

Holding the phone, he saw people scattered on the ground being swept away by a wave, prepared to make a call.

But then, when he saw outside the industrial area, a person trembling against a car, after the tide surged past, able to stand up and sprint outward, he was stunned.

The call he was about to make, he hung up.

He hesitated a moment, instructing the pilot to fly closer.

The pilot looked pale, unwilling, as the sheer numbers gathered had long attracted celestial changes, even the naked eye of ordinary people could clearly see this shocking scene.

"Drop me at the nearest place."

"Master, you better not go, it’s useless."

"I just want to take a look."

The helicopter found a clearing to land, the old monk disembarked, heading briskly towards the park.

Soon, he saw the person who escaped alive, asked around, discovering this person was a tourist tied up today.

The old monk already had a hunch in his heart, reciting a Buddhist mantra, resolutely heading towards the park.

As he neared the park, feeling the chilling Yin Qi and the thick resentment surrounding him, yet there was still hidden Yang energy within.

Seeing more survivors appear amidst the mist and chaos, after the flames extinguished, the old monk fully understood.

He approached the area like a volcanic eruption constantly spewing Yin Qi and resentment, personally feeling the power here.

Seeing up close those shattered lost souls, each marked with a crimson-gold seal, he closed his eyes, put away his phone, and decided not to take further action.

He could feel those powers, knowing someone was already doing their utmost to guide and constrain.

The old monk let out a breath, knowing the destruction he’d anticipated for the nearby city of millions likely wouldn’t occur.

Looking again at those ruined souls, the old monk showed a face full of bitterness, struggling inside, finally sitting there and beginning to chant scriptures with closed eyes.

He was not prepared to intervene, nor to notify those who had invited him.

This was karma, beyond his meddling, even if willing to emulate ancient sages, offering his flesh to feed eagles, sacrificing his body to nurture tigers, it was far from enough.

The old monk pondered, aware his realm was not deep enough, his enlightenment insufficiently high, lacking the skill and awareness to enter the fray, wielding the blade to excise malignant tumors, all he could do was help those destined to die transcend in advance, hoping these affairs would soon calm down.

More people gradually arrived, learning the old monk had entered the park, each shocked, with some who had usually done the right things, gathering courage to sacrifice themselves, discovering the old monk sitting there chanting unharmed.