I Am Your Natural Enemy

Just one roar, and it struck down tens of thousands of lost souls once more.

Yet, the boss was not too satisfied with this; he knew there was something at play he hadn’t identified.

Unless he could annihilate all the lost souls here in one blow, otherwise, it was utterly useless.

To solve the problem, the martial artist Wen Yan, whom he initially didn’t care about, was now the most crucial core.

His wrist flipped, and three gold coins appeared in his hand; as soon as he tossed the coins, he pressed his hands onto the altar.

In an instant, the three gold coins dispersed, a ripple like a rapidly expanding bubble spread out, sweeping across instantly.

The boss lifted his head, reflecting Wen Yan’s figure in his eyes.

Wen Yan’s brows slightly furrowed; the familiar sensation rushing at him told him he couldn’t dodge.

Domain.

A domain unfolded, and given his trait, Wen Yan often strayed into domains, was directly engulfed.

In the blink of an eye, Wen Yan appeared in a city populated with skyscrapers.

The ground of the city was deserted, but when looking up, countless people were seen hanging inverted in mid-air.

Their throats were slit, rendering them speechless, with blood constantly flowing out.

Before their blood could fall, it was absorbed by all surrounding buildings.

Wen Yan appeared here, and immediately ropes of unknown origin appeared, binding his limbs, trying to hang him upside down.

However, the crimson gold flames burning on him rapidly ignited and turned those ropes to nothingness.

But immediately after, ropes of various materials and colors appeared continuously, attempting to bind Wen Yan.

Those ropes represented clothing, food, shelter, family bonds, friendships, sense of security—all sorts of things, continuously binding Wen Yan.

Various illusions began to appear in front of Wen Yan, stirring desires deep in his heart, and the expectations of a better life.

Everything was fundamentally supported by money.

The longing for money deep in Wen Yan’s heart was drawn out.

He remembered working during his youth, recalled when he helped with funerals at a young age, possibly encountering zombies, remembered the difficult days he faced, primarily due to lack of money.

Wen Yan’s memories were drawn out; he looked at his former self, seeing the one whose concept of a "good meal" was having meat stir-fried in noodles with an extra egg pancake ordered from the boss.

He wasn’t sad; instead, he showed a slight smile.

He then closed his eyes and took a gentle breath.

The moment he opened his eyes again, flames started to jet with his every breath.

He found himself already hanging upside down from a rope.

He saw blood absorbed by the city, saw the blood converging at the center, where there was a gigantic gold coin minting machine.

All the blood flowed into it, amidst the machine’s roar, transformed into gold coins, incessantly dropping into a huge bag.

And the boss stood before that bag, standing on the altar, overlooking the inverted Wen Yan.

"Money is always just a means, not an end."

Wen Yan lightly shouted, and the ropes on his body suddenly turned to fly ash.

Wen Yan landed on the ground, looking at the boss.

"Who gave you the courage to make me revisit things I’ve forgotten; do you think this will lead me astray?

You’re wrong; this only makes me want to beat you to death even more!"

As Wen Yan’s low roar gradually turned into a roar, the flames burning on him began to soar intensely.

The flames turned into a barrage, in a blink, the buildings around him exploded, one after another.

Wen Yan stepped out, reaching the utmost speed.

He sprinted over the collapsing buildings, seeming to fly, stepping onto the falling debris and charging rapidly.

The sound of explosions echoed, all obstructions were blasted into pieces by the waves of surging flames.

In just a few seconds, Wen Yan stomped on the outer layers of skyscrapers, rampaging upwards.

All the obstructions, at their root, were merely about money.

The things Wen Yan cared about have never truly been about money; his understanding has always been very clear.

In a fit of rage, as the boss’s vision blurred, a string of explosions occurred, and Wen Yan was at the center of it, crossing thirty or forty meters in one step, appearing before him.

The boss extended his hand to block, his arm suddenly swelling a circle, with power soaring instantly.

He clashed directly with Wen Yan’s blow, a fierce shockwave accompanying the continuous sound of explosions, spreading out.

After a second of stalemate, all the power exploded, Wen Yan’s figure drifted backward.

And the boss’s arm burst open from the inside, in the blink of an eye, the arm turned into white bones.

He spat a mouthful of fresh blood, skin all over his body cracking, fresh blood gushed forth, bones, skin, organs all split open completely.

In that moment, he was on the brink of violent death.

His hair instantly turned snow-white, face aged, but instantly the hair turned black again, face youthful again, the cracks on his body vanished.

Blood and flesh grew back on the arm turned to bones, swiftly restoring to its original state.

The boss had a shocked expression, was this power the effect brought by the two titles on Wen Yan?

But before he could do anything more, his figure was again blasted, this time, he bent his waist slightly backward, retreating, as the altar under his feet was also flying backward.