The world of the third layer was right before him, yet Jonas truly could no longer see it. Firstly, the continuous stream of Dragon Souls had ceased, and secondly, his mind could no longer bear more information. The cluttered sights and sounds pierced his senses like blades and spears; he fell into a severe hallucination, the world before him turning into a snowy white mirage where sky and earth were indistinguishable and terrain was unclear. Only a few simple lines could tell him an object was situated there, but as for what specific object it was, he did not know.
He was unbearably hot and stripped off his clothes, letting the wind blow directly against his body, but this wind grew hotter and hotter. Giggling shouts rang in his ears, sounding like the singing of a group of castrati; the melody was holy and grand, but the lyrics were extremely malicious, filled with words of curses: wishing the good had no place to live, wishing the evil would flourish, wishing the gods would feast on human flesh and blood, wishing cattle and horses would sit upon thrones, and wishing tree seeds and maggots would sprout and grow within the husks and Souls of the innocent... He smelled a stench, yet it attracted him, a pheromone full of seductive information that could make one become base and without limits.
The world was pure white, but that was what his eyes saw; what he perceived was different: as he fell to the ground, he didn't know where he landed—was it a plain or a valley? When his feet touched the ground, the sensation was as if he were in a soggy marsh; there were protruding, cold stones underfoot, very smooth, and he also felt some net-like silken objects, with bubbles bursting under his feet.
Jonas took three or five steps and then stopped, reaching for the scroll on his back. The casing of the elder scrolls was still cold and hard, which was good.
Next, he would just rest for a bit. Jonas planned to lie down and empty himself, so he really did just lie down like that. His mind could no longer hold much logic or reason; he simply chose to lie down out of instinct.
An Icefield Wolf ran over, gently licking his neck. Sharp canines tore open his throat, and blood gushed out.
Jonas felt no pain at all; instead, his whole body felt comfortable. That sensation of rising returned, and he flew up, leaving behind his body that was clogged with noisy information. From mid-air, he saw a dark green eye staring at him from the dome. The dirty, dark blue sclera was like a pile of rotting fruits and vegetables covered in mold. The pupil was in the shape of an ∞, squinting, and the eyelid was like that of a reptilian creature covered in fine scales, filled with extreme greed.
He did not like this eye, so he turned his head. The earth was the broken corpse of a woman—or rather, it felt like a woman. The small amount of remaining skin was white and delicate, while the exposed flesh, bones, and countless tiny eyeballs were incredibly blasphemous.
Jonas flew through the high sky, and the white world dimmed... The Psijic Order was besieging a tall, platinum-gold human whose body was as beautiful and profound as a Heavenly God, full of philosophy. The light he radiated was terrifying, his golden hair burning like fire, and infinite passion burst from his sea-blue eyes.
"You've really pissed me off! Today, you've ignored the path to heaven and barged into Hell! You can provoke Dragons or tigers, but you should never provoke me! I can endure holding back shit and piss, but I cannot endure the likes of you! All of you, die already!!!"
A succession of punches swung out, each like a bursting comet! In an instant, the mountains and rivers shook and cracked, and Saarthal was blown apart yet again!
A-Ran cried out in alarm, "The Baishan of this timeline is terrifying!"
Seven layers of the group's high-level Spell barriers were shattered in an instant, and the final three layers were also teetering. The Archmage lightly waved the Staff of Magnus, and a blast of Demonic Energy hit Simon, but he did not flinch in the slightest. He actually broke through the time-stop effect of the Dragon Chrysalis, striking out while enduring the primordial energy torrent of Aetherius.
"Since I came to this world, I have been troubled by the inability to unify the Martial Dao and magic. It wasn't until I beat that God of War Incarnation to death not long ago that I realized a truth..."
A Psijic monk couldn't help his curiosity and asked, "What truth?"
"The human body has limits, but the heart has no limits. Therefore, every punch and every move of a Martial Artist is not an attack against an opponent, but against one's own heart, against this world! Let you pointy-faced rats who have gone astray see what the ultimate art of combat is!!!"
The Archmage's squinting eyes widened in fear. "Not good! Reinforce the Dragon Chrysalis!" He hurriedly brandished his staff, increasing the output of the eye of magnus. Meanwhile, the other monks chanted incantations and took out wide-mouthed ceramic jars from their sleeves; upon opening them, a continuous stream of Dragon Souls flew out. The time-stopped world shone with clear light, and even the edge of Simon's fist was slightly stagnated, but his expression was incredibly arrogant and reckless. It was a declaration to the world, an air of being second to none, a spirit that reached the clouds.
"A single leaf reveals the autumn, a single pipe reveals the leopard. Transcending the limits of thought, transcending the shackles of the mind—this is my punch, and this is my world!" Simon, like a God of War, laughed incessantly as his body gradually dissolved in the intense platinum-gold light. However, an illusory ice-blue spirit body became as solid as substance; even if he were to die, he would still strike this punch—
"Wheel Mark!"
In the next moment, the mages saw a miracle they had never seen in their lives. That man's straight strike punched a primordial void out of space, and a surging annihilation from the Void Realm spewed out. Then, in a deep darkness, intense light burst forth, and a massive wheel divided the Chaos. Eight spokes, with the gaps between them divided into sixteen parts; in the center was the tall man, still smiling, comfortable and free.
He really did punch out a world!
Wheel Mark—the rut of the World Wheel!
The Dragon Chrysalis dimmed in an instant. The mages were grazed by the wind of the punch, and their bodies quietly vanished into nothingness.
"I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"
"Help! Help!"
Of the nine Psijic monks, six died upon the first encounter. The Archmage and A-Ran were heavily injured. Everything was marching toward destruction. The energy beam from the eye of magnus was already as wide as a river, but it still retreated step by step under the Wheel Mark.
The world before Simon's eyes gradually turned grey and dark.
The heart has no limits, but the body does. Without the body as a support, the mind can hardly accomplish anything... In the end, I am but a Mortal.
"Sigh." Simon wanted to close his eyes but couldn't; his left eye was fading away with the wind. The end of the world was pitch black and cold.
I failed to save you. I'm sorry, child.
At the final moment, he saw Jonas's figure appear in the center of the battlefield.
The boy's face was full of confusion.
Simon's spirit body smiled.
The Wheel Mark disappeared, and the wave of Demonic Energy rushed over, submerging the warrior. Everything came to an abrupt halt.
"It stopped? We won?" The survivors struggled to cheer, but tears of fear wouldn't stop flowing. "They're dead. Really dead."
Those killed by the Wheel Mark could not be brought back even if time were reversed, because that part had been taken to another world, and the information of their existence was completely erased.
The Archmage used the Flames Spell to cauterize his mangled body and stop the bleeding. "All sacrifices are worth it. Let's speed up the progress and have that boy get straight to the point."
"Understood."
..."Hey, you, you're finally awake."
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