Chapter Forty-Five: Out of Control!

The moment Zunye plunged into the sea of fire, threads of crimson-gold cracks spread from within, splitting his despairing face and detonating with a thunderous roar.

A deep, resonant hum filled the air as it expanded violently, a shockwave radiating out from Zunye, laced with endless heat, rampaging in all directions. Everything in its path—matter and scenery alike—was shattered and annihilated. Only after a heartbeat did the entire Death Row Carnival echo with a cataclysmic explosion.

A torrent of flames instantly swept across the ground, bowing in deference to the raging inferno above. Endless crimson-gold fire devoured the remains of Zunye in a heartbeat, spreading unchecked as it advanced. Where it passed, earth and air alike dissolved into nothingness. The condemned on the sixth floor had no chance to scream, trembling like leaves before they were swallowed by the firestorm, charred in an instant, and with a final faint sound, reduced to ashes, erased from the world.

Now, in the artificial hill park, flames filled every corner. The explosion raged on, and Muyou stood like a sovereign of fire, every movement commanding the flames in reverence, incinerating all who dared defy him.

He landed barefoot among the scorched, chaotic earth, the scent of burned flesh stirring a strange excitement within him. Breathing in this aroma greedily, Muyou reached out, trying to grasp the charred strands of flesh drifting in the air. The moment his fingertips touched them, the tiny fragments crumbled to ash, carried away by the ember-laden night breeze, vanishing into the twilight sky.

Muyou narrowed his eyes, arms outstretched, blood-red wings unfurled to their fullest, swaying gracefully in the evening wind, emanating an uncanny sense of peace.

How beautiful this scene is. The thrill of slaughter—how intoxicating...

"So this is what it takes—only by destroying everything can one attain such rare tranquility and serenity..."

He sighed, parted his lips, and his chest swelled. Instantly, the souls of the dead from the entire park and its surroundings converged, drawn into his belly.

Muyou licked his crimson lips. Nearly two hundred souls at once—delicious beyond words.

"Quick, he's here!"

Just then, a discordant shout shattered the rare peace.

"Whoever captures this brat alive gets a hundred million from me! Move, all of you!"

Acne-Scarred Man and his group were the first to arrive at the scene. Stunned by the devastation before them, not one connected the terrifying explosion to Muyou.

They all knew the capabilities of the condemned—strange, but ultimately limited. Who could imagine that this living hell was wrought by Muyou's bare hands? Impossible! Perhaps the park's facilities had suffered a massive explosion, and by sheer luck, Muyou had soared skyward in time to avoid certain death, becoming the sole survivor.

"Yes, sir!" Greed banished hesitation. The crowd surged toward Muyou, their faces alight with visions of future riches and luxury, every one of them charging forward in a frenzy.

Muyou, his eyes half-closed, slowly furrowed his brow. His hands dropped limp, a pained and confused expression flickering across his face.

"Why? Why..."

Suddenly, a stabbing pain seared through Muyou's skull. He clutched his head, brow contorted, trembling as he stared around blankly, oblivious to the figures closing in.

"Every time peace descends, it’s always cruelly shattered. Can’t you bastards just let me relax for a moment? Why do you force me to stay on edge? My head is splitting!"

Seeing Muyou dashing about in panic, the crowd assumed he was trying to escape and rushed at him even faster.

"I haven't destroyed enough! Haven't made you fear me enough! Haven't made you dread me enough! That's why you scum keep coming after me. Fine, in that case, I'll send you all to hell!"

After using "First Glimpse: Sovereign Flame" for the first time, Muyou's emotions were wildly unstable. Before, he had barely maintained control; now, the balance was broken, and he snapped.

At this moment, Muyou was beyond reason, completely overtaken by another subconsciousness—demented, evil, and utterly despairing.

In truth, his nature was gentle, but ever since his first kill at the police station, a bloodthirsty urge had begun to awaken deep within. He constantly fought against it, never even telling Mengyou. Now, with his primary self gravely wounded, this secondary persona took full control, venting without restraint.

"Ah!!"

Muyou threw his head back with a piercing, inhuman howl. His left eye was further devoured by darkness, the pupil turning blood-red, webbed with crimson veins spreading across the entire blackened sclera.

"Kill! Kill! Delight me with your blood!"

His eyes flared with fury, the right one vacant, while the left glowed with a soul-stealing, demonic light. He roared, spittle flying, and as the blood-red light burst from his eye, his crimson wings mutated—flames solidified into lifelike blood-crystal icicles, overlapping in orderly rows, until a gigantic wing, sculpted as if from blood-red crystal, spread from his left shoulder.

Resting his left arm on the crystalline wing, the blood crystals crawled up his arm like folding blades—neat and razor-sharp.

He moved, crossing from one side of the crowd to the other in an instant, then stopped.

To everyone's shock, the henchmen froze, torsos beginning to slide off their legs, which remained locked in their previous stances. The wounds were as smooth as mirrors, with not a drop of blood spilt—closer inspection revealed the flesh completely charred by the heat.

With a single blow, everyone—including Acne-Scarred Man—shuddered violently.

"Shoot him! Don't spare a single fine! I want the Meridian Soul-Breaker worm inside him!"

Even in his astonishment, Acne-Scarred Man didn't forget his goal.

His men, emboldened by the order, drew their sidearms and unleashed a hail of bullets at Muyou.

With the bullets' power, no matter how formidable this brat was, a single hit ought to spell his doom.

Acne-Scarred Man smirked, imagining Muyou collapsing at his feet, staring up with dying eyes as he pried open the boy’s body and extracted the writhing Meridian Soul-Breaker worm.

"Naive..."

Gunfire roared. Muyou cackled madly, dodging with supernatural speed, his massive crystal wing curling around him. The bullets clanged harmlessly off the crystalline shield; Muyou was unscathed.

Gradually, tiny shards of blood crystal were chipped from the wing, falling as droplets of blood onto the ground. The gunfire continued, blood splattered, but Acne-Scarred Man’s expression grew ever darker.

A bullet cost a hundred million each. He had thought he could buy the rare, not-for-sale Meridian Soul-Breaker worm for a few billion—a cost he could bear. But now, things were veering out of his financial control.

Grinding his teeth, Acne-Scarred Man made a ruthless decision: "Prepare the EMPs!"