1733: Chapter 1729: The Doomsday Clock 1733: Chapter 1729: The Doomsday Clock “…Still no changes?”
For the ti being, let’s not discuss the changes of the era.
At this mont, on the twentieth day of the stalemate involving the God Above Gods, the main legions of various countries still remained stationed in the Pacific Ocean.
They ford the second or third line of defense, while the first line was composed of countless deities who had already fallen.
What they needed to intercept wasn’t rely the rampaging New Gods and demons, but also the Exotic Realm Gods who had beco “humanized.”
Humanization wasn’t brainwashing; it ant granting you knowledge, mory, and intelligence, while simultaneously shifting your stance.
Each individual was different; the prejudice of innate evil was unacceptable, though indeed, so people were prone to stray onto a dark path.
Even within the sa environnt, or even the sa family, saints and extremists could arise.
Considering that the “catalysts” for the evolution of these New Gods varied in nature—so tyrannical, so villainous—even if the New Gods changed their allegiances, they wouldn’t necessarily make friendly allies.
Managing and controlling them, or at least maintaining a nominal registry, was necessary…
Yet, even so, seventy percent of the “New Gods” had slipped from control.
They—or perhaps it was better to say “those beings”—would beco resources for future human evolution, but they would also transform into new sources of instability.
Whether people were willing to accept it or not, a new era had already arrived.
Even with portions of the God Above Gods depleted, the entire world had been forcibly elevated into a higher dinsion.
Everyone needed to learn to adapt to it, rather than fret and complain about why it had co…
“…I can’t make those who complain shut up, nor can I criticize them using a broader perspective or morality, because their family mbers may very well have died because of this.
But I also know this is the best possible outco we could achieve.
Letting ‘Famine’ spread unchecked would have turned the world into the Path of Hungry Ghosts.
Everyone would die, and die in the most grueling ways imaginable.”
Lu Ping’an didn’t give a lengthy explanation; he rely said a few words during the courtyard eting.
The fleet remained in its position, never returning to deal with the dilemmas of any nation, even though the calls for aid never ceased.
Dragon Moon Island was already overflowing with “allied forces.” The relentless waves and storms were overly harsh for mortals, and the advanced combat forces engaged in prolonged battles also needed a stable rear line.
There was only one reason why so many main legions still lingered on the battlefield’s edge.
It was still here.
The God Above Gods was still trapped in the snare, persistently dissolving itself, “irrigating” the entire world like a benevolent martyr.
The bindings grew tighter and Its roars quieter, to the point where not a single sound might be heard for a whole day.
anwhile, Its essence bled away, birthing an increasing number of Newborns and New Gods.
It resembled a beast ensnared in a trap, nearing death.
But from what Lu Ping’an observed, as well as the calculations made by the decision-making departnt in the rear, this wasn’t the actual outco.
“…More than half Its body is still outside, alive and kicking.
It’s far from dead.
For all we know, It might just be in a state of eating and resting.”
Extraordinary existences like this had no such thing as vital organs or weak points.
Its existential scale dictated Its life and death.
With most of It projecting into reality, the extent of damage It sustained might still be less than a single-digit percentage.
Most life forms would retaliate when endangered, let alone the God Above Gods.
Even if trapped, it should have fought back.
If things got desperate, abandoning a portion of itself to escape shouldn’t have been out of the question either.
Its silence and endurance, on the contrary, only heightened people’s unease.
This was the root cause of why the fleet still lingered here.
Beyond “registering the New Gods” and hunting escaped individuals, they were also on guard for any potential rampage from the “great” existence.
“Day twenty-one…”
Lu Ping’an returned to Dragon Moon Island.
As soon as he landed, several healers and blacksmiths rushed toward him.
He directly pulled out a bag of broken, blunted taboo weapons, tossing them over for repairs, letting the healers adjust his state, and asking the magic alchemists to concoct potions to accelerate his recovery.
The war in the Pacific Ocean had never stopped.
Intercepting one more here ant potentially saving tens of thousands of lives in the rear.
But the consumption and wear on the advanced combat forces were simply staggering.
Generally speaking, Rule-level combatants were seldom mobilized, but now, even they seed to have been reduced to cannon fodder.
While receiving massages from the logistics team, Lu Ping’an sank into a special hot spring brimming with magically-enhanced potions.
Even soone as consistently enduring as him was on the verge of overload.
His colleagues were in even worse states.
Several of them had hit “critical overload”—a term unique to Lu Ping’an’s team, referring to injuries postponed through delayed paynt reaching their maximum limit.
If they delayed further, they might outright collapse co the next repaynt cycle.
Of course, before fully withdrawing from the lineup, they all achieved more than five tis their combat results.
“Lu Ping’an, those weapons of yours are too severely damaged.
Out of thirty pieces, we’re confident we can repair fewer than six…”
“Then abandon the rest.
Reforge them into consumables or downgrade them as backup gear for others.”
Lu Ping’an spoke without even opening his eyes, his upper body receiving restorative massages while his lower body soaked in the dicated spring.
Truthfully, he had long since hit “critical overload” himself.
It’s just that he could die and regenerate.
But now, his points weren’t enough to allow him the luxury of random deaths.
With only a few lives left, exhausting them would force him off the battlefield.
This was the common situation for most advanced combatants.
Lu Ping’an was already considered the longest-standing among them…
Normally, a few days was the limit for top-tier fighters.
Surviving over twenty days had caused many observers to revise their assessnts of his upper limits.
“…Chris?
How long do you still need?”
“Six to eight hours to barely fight.
Twenty-four hours for roughly eighty percent recovery.”
The voice responding to Lu Ping’an sounded equally fatigued.
Chris was still fighting by utilizing a “Possession Puppet,” and this advanced-level puppet was one of Lu Ping’an’s miraculous creations—a part of Chris, inseparable but also impossible to mass produce.
Under ordinary circumstances, Chris was indeed stronger than Lu Ping’an, the team’s foremost combatant.
But as a “dead person,” her endurance in battle was severely lacking.
With only one life, she couldn’t even compare to an average Quasi-God…
Of course, that was also because Lu Ping’an was absurdly exceptional.
According to the evaluations within a small circle of Lin Nu, his undying nature and endurance in prolonged combat were second only to Lord Xiuyi.
Hearing that Chris still needed so much ti to recover, Lu Ping’an nodded without comnting further.
Without her being fully functional, he’d also need to tread cautiously.
During their last particularly troubleso engagent, Chris’s physical form had been reduced to a bag of shredded at.
The fact that most of it could be patched together within such a short period was already a testant to the vast resources they were expending.
For now, though Lu Ping’an had greater endurance in terms of sustainability, their extre combat power still depended on Big Cat stepping in.
Without her, Lu Ping’an had his concerns.
“…How much longer can we hold out?”
The ntal exhaustion far outweighed the physical.
The excessive frequency of ability usage, already beyond the overload threshold for most Extraordinary professionals, posed deadly strain and tests on any individual’s stability.
While Lu Ping’an’s body could still manage, his spirit had long reached its limits.
The top-tier magic potions that supposedly alleviated fatigue didn’t help much.
What truly allowed Lu Ping’an to endure was his brief monts of unconscious rest in the hot water.
The youth persisted because, whenever he reviewed reports via communication, even regular demons that slipped through the cracks here could utterly devastate a rearward village, a ship, or even a small city.
He didn’t see himself as particularly altruistic, but for every additional hand he offered here, the rear could potentially save hundreds, thousands, or even more lives.
Even soone as cold-hearted as him couldn’t stop.
“…That water monster seems tricky to deal with.
Perhaps I’ll need to team up with others…”
“…The current warships are also reaching their limits.
The bio-warships…”
“…The sub-species have helped us a lot.
After this, should we petition for them to gain so human rights?
I really don’t want to fight an internal war after just finishing the external one…”
Once he slowed down, countless thoughts floated to the surface.
The more he contemplated, the more physically drained he felt, yet his mind grew sharper…
Lu Ping’an sighed, preparing to go back to work.
So matters truly felt more reassuring when handled personally, especially involving logistics and organizational managent.
But suddenly, Lu Ping’an raised his head.
He saw it—the God Above Gods…
“It’s splitting!”
“Hasn’t It always been splitting…?”
“No, this ti it’s intentional!
Three massive ones…
They’ve arrived.”
In Lu Ping’an’s vision, the God Above Gods deliberately divided itself, releasing three apocalyptic-grade terminator lifeforms.
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