On Crow Mountain, shrouded in gray fog, small particles of light erged from the air, coalescing into Colin’s figure. The mont he appeared, the gray fog spread outward, forming a “safe zone” about 30 ters in diater.
After stepping out, Colin glanced back. Behind him lay a “basin” surrounded by mountains, covered in a strange, ominous pale fog. The gray fog and the pale fog seed to coexist without interference.
“After passing through the underground tunnel beneath Crow Mountain, we reach this place—the so-called ‘Underground Region’…”
Colin didn’t dwell on it. Holding a lantern, he looked around at the 30-ter-wide “safe zone.” A thought crossed his mind: “This light creates a ‘safe zone,’ but the rare blood only covers a radius of 15 ters… I can confirm that ‘light’ is the second thing besides tainted blood that repels the gray mist.”
Even though Colin could walk through the gray mist without the lantern, he chose not to discard it.
Compared to the unstable light surrounding him, the fla of the lantern was more reliable. Otherwise, a misstep could land him in the mist, leading to instant death. The stronger he beca, the more he felt an awe of the gray fog.
Yet, Colin still couldn’t understand why the gray fog didn’t affect the mutated native creatures but only the “outsiders” like him.
“Things I can’t comprehend… I’ll ignore for now.”
Shaking his head, Colin stretched out his right hand toward the front, palm open.
The small point of light flew back into the sky, dissolving the mist before it like sunlight dispels darkness. Seconds later, it soared thousands of ters into the sky, radiating a scorching brilliance like the sun. In that mont, the entire island lit up as though it were dayti, with no trace of mist.
The gray fog vanished…
As Colin took in this world, shrouded in deathly silence for who knows how long, his gaze sharpened.
The area was eerily quiet. All the mutants had been affected by the Night’s power and had launched attacks, leaving the surroundings unprecedentedly clean…
At the edge of his vision, Colin spotted the vast, endless sea.
After a brief sensing, he pinpointed the locations of a few mutants.
“Let’s deal with the most troubleso one first.”
Without hesitation, Colin made his decision and headed toward the largest foggy area.
In the next mont, Colin’s figure erged from the shimring light at Silvermoon Bay.
The sea was calm, with barely any waves. Scanning the shore, his gaze quickly landed on an ancient sailboat stranded among the rocks near the coast.
Just then, an abnormal wind suddenly blew from the direction of the shipwreck. Wherever the wind passed, seawater froze, and the ground was covered in frost. The cold wind rushed toward Colin, but as it neared the 10-ter radius around him, its effect ceased. However, everything beyond that radius seed to plunge into a bitterly cold winter in an instant.
At that mont, Colin’s expression changed slightly as he felt a sharp pain shoot up from the soles of his feet. Simultaneously, small mounds of sand rose around him as if sothing was about to erge from the ground. Colin soon saw them—black strands of hair wriggling and filled with a terrifying sense of resentnt.
They covered the ground within 10 ters of him… densely packed.
“Hair?” Colin muttered in surprise, watching the strands crawl out from the sand and slither toward him.
A malevolent resentnt emanating from the hair seed to warp and suppress the light around him.
He could feel so strands piercing the soles of his feet, trying to burrow into his body.
Remaining calm, Colin lifted his foot, tearing the hair out of his soles, and then stomped down.
With a burst of light, everything was purified and vaporized.
Without lingering, Colin strode toward the shipwreck, transforming into a beam of light and entering the dilapidated vessel. Guided by intuition and clues, he found himself in a special room entirely encased in black iron.
Suspended from chains in the center of the room was a circular mirror, bound by “Thorns of Suffering” in an X-shaped pattern. Inside the mirror was a decayed woman’s head…
The head was grotesquely rotted, with milky, clouded eyes, no nose, just two gaping holes, and decayed skin that exposed the teeth beneath…
At that mont, half of it protruded from the mirror as if trying to escape, but it was firmly restrained.
“Mutant—The Witch’s Head.”
If not for the “Twisted Soul,” Colin would never have imagined that this grotesque, nauseating creature was once the kind-hearted, beautiful witch he had seen in a dream.
This solidified Colin’s resolve to overthrow the “Church of Suffering.”
Even though the head hadn’t fully escaped, its abnormally foul-slling hair was slithering out of the mirror and creeping into the surroundings.
Upon entering, Colin imdiately felt a bone-chilling cold. In the rundown, decaying cabin, he saw black strands of hair squeezing through the gaps in the wooden boards and iron walls.
Hair slithered from the ceiling, the floor, and in every direction, filling the tiny room, which groaned under the pressure.
In the intense, twisted resentnt filling the space, it seed the room had beco a different world.
Colin gazed calmly at the scene before him and said, “Let there be light.”
At his words, a pure, extre light, utterly repelling all else, burst forth in the room, causing everything to tremble.
The filthy, corrupted hair evaporated in an instant…
The Witch’s Head froze, trying to retreat into the mirror to avoid Colin’s attack. But a glowing hand reached into the mirror, grabbing hold of its head like a ball. With his left hand gripping the mirror’s edge and his right hand pulling, Colin slowly dragged the head out of the mirror, despite imnse resistance.
So strands of hair, tough as steel, coiled around his arm, causing his light to flicker and break off into tiny fragnts.
“Among all the lord-level lords I’ve fought, I declare you the strongest.”
Colin mused internally, recognizing that the witch had been at least at Tier Three, if not stronger, in her previous life.
Perhaps even Tier Four!
After triggering a miracle and transforming into a mutated Lord after death, her strength had grown explosively. She was, by far, the strongest Lord Colin had encountered.
With a fierce grip, Colin’s fingers pierced the Witch’s Head, sinking into her brain.
As his fingers touched the rotting brain tissue, his eyes flashed, and he unleashed a “ntal spike,” causing the head to stiffen.
“I’ll take you ho,” he said, and light surged through his hand into her brain.
In an instant, the room fell silent.
Monts later, the rotting head of the witch tumbled out of the mirror, hitting the floor and rolling a few tis.
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