Chapter 84: The Saint Lord's Resolve, Annihilating All Abyss Creatures
Dark crimson Abyssal energy flowed across the shattered earth like viscous blood, the air thick with the acrid scent left behind by annihilated divine power.
The Tian Shen stood motionless at the heart of this desolate realm that belonged to him. The vast divine power, transformed from the recently devoured Second-level Deities Tang Hao and Ah Yin, was being greedily absorbed and digested by the Abyss Plane, like a sweet rain after a long drought, nourishing the plane's origin that had grown somewhat "parched" after the disastrous first battle.
The feeling of weakness from losing five percent of its energy was rapidly receding, even replaced by a faint sense of satiety.
Yet, not a hint of joy showed on the Saint Lord's face; instead, his expression grew increasingly somber.
Making up for the loss was merely stopping the bleeding. The dire situation before him had not changed in the slightest.
He slowly raised his right hand, newly regrown through the power of the Abyss's origin. His fingertips traced the void, sensing the vibrant, surging aura of the Douluo Plane on the other side of the dimensional barrier, like a rising sun, and that formidable will belonging to Lei Chen, which was locked onto this place as firmly as bedrock.
"Can't win... can't escape..." These four words swirled in his mind like a recurring nightmare.
Having lost Tang Hao and Ah Yin, two crucial high-level combatants, how could he face the combined might of Lei Chen and Electrolux alone? Moreover, the enemy still possessed that bizarre Soul Engineer Corps capable of jointly resisting a demigod.
If this stalemate continued, the Douluo Plane would grow stronger with each victory, boosted by morale and resource conversion, while the Abyss Plane would be slowly eroded, ultimately facing complete annihilation.
"I must... I must find a way to break this deadlock!" A crazed light flickered in the Saint Lord's dark golden vertical pupils as thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning.
The first idea to surface was calling for aid.
Calling for aid from that entity in the depths of the endless cosmos, a progenitor more powerful and ancient than his own Abyss Plane—the Crimson Domain!
If the Mother of the Crimson were to descend personally, her terrifying strength would undoubtedly crush this Douluo Plane.
However, this thought had barely risen before the Saint Lord ruthlessly extinguished it himself.
The hope was too slim, bordering on despair.
The Crimson Domain was separated from this place by several galaxies, with cosmic storms and spatial turbulence rife between them. Even a God King-level existence would require considerable time to traverse such a distance.
Even if he could successfully send a plea for aid now, and even if the Mother of the Crimson were willing to respond, by the time reinforcements arrived, it would likely be decades or even a century later.
By then, not only would the opportunity be long gone, but even his Abyss Plane would likely have been completely digested by the Douluo Plane, reduced to nutrients for its growth.
Distant water cannot quench a present thirst. This path... was closed!
With no hope for external aid, the Saint Lord could only turn his gaze inward, beginning a deep reflection on the root cause of this defeat.
His thoughts settled on the sixty destructive rays that had torn through the sky and the subsequent sixty level nine fixed soul bomb shells that had followed like invitations from the god of death.
"They probably don't have many of those shells left. But the Linked Soul Tools..." The Saint Lord gritted his teeth as he uttered these words, his eyes filled with wariness and... a trace of jealousy he himself was reluctant to admit.
It was precisely this damned contraption that had completely overturned his understanding of warfare!
In his past experiences of conquering and devouring other planes, no matter how numerous the lower-level beings were, they were mere ants before true powerhouses, background props to highlight the might of the strong.
But these Linked Soul Tools could bind the power of countless ants into a single strand, where quantity transformed into quality, unleashing terrifying force capable of threatening, even slaying, high-level existences!
It was this very thing that had turned the seemingly endless tide tactics of the Abyssal army into a complete joke.
No matter how fiercely those low and mid-level Abyss Creatures charged, no matter how vast their numbers, under the organized, blanket strikes of the Linked Soul Tools, the result was always the same—transformed into pure energy, becoming nourishment for the enemy!
"Cannon fodder... pure cannon fodder!" The Saint Lord's gaze swept over the remnants of his army below, which had just withdrawn, now less than thirty percent of their peak numbers and mostly wounded. His vision seemed to pierce through the dimensional barrier, seeing the countless Abyss Creatures in the various layers of the Abyss who had not yet joined the battle but were equally weak.
In the Saint Lord's eyes now, these beings were no longer claws and fangs to help him conquer other planes. They were walking "energy packs," perfect targets for the Douluo Plane's long-range firepower, fools supplying the enemy!
Since their existence in the coming war would not only fail to contribute positively but would continuously feed energy to the opponent, what value did they have left?
A cold, cruel thought that perfectly maximized current interests slithered out from the depths of the Saint Lord's heart like a venomous snake, swiftly occupying his entire mind.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a curve devoid of all warmth and utterly indifferent, the epitome of extreme apathy towards the lives of billions under his command.
"Since you are useless... then there is no need for you to exist."
The Saint Lord slowly raised both hands. The dark purple divine power around him boiled with unprecedented intensity, resonating at the deepest level with the origin of the entire Abyss Plane.
At this moment, he was no longer the master of the Abyss. He had become the Abyss itself, its merciless will to destroy.
"In the name of the Lord of the Abyss, I decree: All living beings within this plane, below the level of demigod, shall return to the origin!"
A vast, icy, utterly emotionless voice, like a final judgment, echoed through every layer, every corner of the Abyss Plane!
In the next instant, a scene occurred that made the three demigods—the Spirit Emperor, the Fierce Emperor, and the Demon Emperor—feel their hair stand on end and their souls tremble in fear—
There were no screams, no struggles, not even significant energy fluctuations.
From the lowest cannon fodder worms to those Abyss Creatures equivalent to human Soul Douluos and Soul Saints, as long as they had not reached the demigod level, regardless of where they were or what they were doing, their bodies disintegrated and crumbled away as quietly as sand sculptures dried by the wind!
Billions of streams of pure Abyssal energy, varying in strength, drifted out from every corner of the plane as if pulled by an invisible giant hand, converging into torrents of dark crimson energy that surged toward the Saint Lord's location.
Simultaneously, the Second-Tier God divine power from the slain Tang Hao and Ah Yin, which had been fully converted and absorbed by the plane, was also mobilized by the Saint Lord.
Countless energy torrents converged and compressed madly before the Saint Lord, ultimately forming a dark crimson energy sphere only a few meters in diameter, yet radiating a palpitation-inducing aura.
Inside the sphere, energy flowed slowly like a liquid, its color so deep it seemed capable of devouring souls. The energy level it emitted had reached a degree that made demigods like the Spirit Emperor feel suffocated—almost on par with the Tian Shen at his peak!
Sensing the world-obliterating power within the sphere, a trace of almost morbid satisfaction finally appeared on the Saint Lord's face.
Only then did he turn his gaze downward to the Spirit Emperor, Fierce Emperor, and Demon Emperor, who were already trembling in fear.
Looking at these three remaining demigods of his plane, the coldness in the Saint Lord's eyes melted for an instant, but his tone remained one of unquestionable authority as he slowly spoke, his voice echoing across the desolate realm:
"The fault for this defeat lies with me."
He frankly admitted his mistake, his tone carrying a hint of finality.
"I was overconfident. I chose the most extreme form of planar convergence warfare, yet failed to match it with the resolute, burn-the-boats determination it required! Carelessly, I sent out so much useless cannon fodder, freely gifting the enemy with vast amounts of energy, strengthening them while weakening ourselves."
The Saint Lord's gaze swept over the dark crimson energy sphere as he continued, "Now, after painful reflection. Since those lower-level beings would be utterly useless in the coming war, even supplying the enemy, then their existence holds no value."
"I have returned them all to the origin, combining that energy with the divine power obtained earlier, concentrating it here." The Saint Lord lifted the dark red sphere as if holding the entire future of the Abyss Plane.
"Within this sphere is... all the energy the Abyss Plane can currently mobilize, aside from what is needed to maintain the plane's basic functions!"
"This... is our only hope for a comeback!"
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