Chapter 111
And within his narrow chest, between the pulses of the Cancer plague that had begun beating with a strangely faster rhythm, stronger, more impatient—like war drums struck by hands that never grew tired, like a heart beating not out of fear but because it was ready to die or kill, with no third choice—Ling Xu felt something he had never experienced before.
Restlessness.
A restlessness born from the realization that he, who had always believed himself strong because he had died eleven times and risen eleven times, because he had devoured entire civilizations of Gods and turned them into flesh within his stomach, was still standing on the very lowest step of a staircase that never truly ended. And above him, at levels he could not even imagine because his mind had never been designed to comprehend anything beyond the concepts he knew, existed beings who could regard him as dust, as an atom, as a void unworthy of even being called "existent."
"And the difference in potential power between fellow Humanity Belly cultivators across universes, Ling Xu," the Cancer plague Consciousness continued, its voice no longer calm and measured, but sharp and piercing, like a dagger slowly driven into someone's back, like a knife slicing layer after layer of flesh until only bones and marrow remained, wounds that could never truly heal, "is like the difference between heaven and earth, Ling Xu. Even among cultivators who stand within the same Abdomen of Humanity. Not merely one or two heavens and earths apart, not a difference measurable through numbers or words—but an infinite difference, a disparity so vast that a Abdomen of Humanity cultivator at the peak of the realm could look upon one at its lowest level as an ant, as a termite, as something to be crushed beneath a foot without guilt, without hesitation, without even remembering that the ant also had a family, dreams, and pain when its body was shattered beneath a careless step."
"Tell me… what you are explaining to me right now—about Abdomen of Humanity—is it truly real? Is it true that the difference in potential between Abdomen of Humanity cultivators from different universes is as vast as heaven and earth? Is it true that even within the same realm, the hierarchy of power is never truly equal, never truly balanced, never truly fair?"
And within Ling Xu's consciousness, in its darkest corner, where the Cancer plague dwelled patiently while waiting, the Humanity Star Consciousness let out a sigh—a sigh that sounded like wind whispering through dried leaves after a storm had passed, a sigh carrying the burden of knowledge it had never shared with anyone because no one had ever asked, because no one had ever cared, because everyone had always been too occupied with battles, political schemes, and overlapping murder plots woven together like spiderwebs in a room that had never been cleaned—before answering. Its voice was no longer sharp and piercing, but flat and hollow, like the surface of a lake left undisturbed for too long by wind, human, or beast. Yet beneath that stillness, something moved, something that people who still believed bitter truths were better than sweet lies might have called sorrow.
"That is the reality. Every word you just heard is true. In fact, even more than that—the truth is that among the universes ruled and inhabited by the countless Leg of Humanity cultivators, nearly a quarter of them are governed by cultivators at the Abdomen of Humanity level. Not because they are wiser, not because they have contributed more, not because they are better rulers—but because they are stronger. Because they can force, threaten, kill, and do whatever they wish to the powerless Leg of Humanity cultivators, who can only remain silent, only obey, only pray that someday they too can ascend to a higher level and do the exact same thing to those weaker than themselves."
Amid the emptiness increasingly consumed by the flesh of the Cancer plague, creeping like the roots of a world tree piercing through heaven and earth—between the blank canvas of The Silent One that had begun cracking in a thousand places, releasing light from every fracture, a light neither bright nor dark, yet strangely warm like the embrace of a mother who had long ago lost her child, a light that made Ling Xu feel that even though the reality around him was being destroyed, something new would be born from those ruins, something stronger, more absolute, more eternal—the Cancer plague Consciousness continued its explanation. Its voice was no longer flat and empty as it had been when confirming the truth about Abdomen of Humanity, but deep and resonant, like a colossal bell struck within a dark underground chamber, like thunder restrained behind a volcano moments before eruption, like the voice of a prophet reciting the final revelation before the apocalypse.
"Humanity Head, Ling Xu," the Cancer plague Consciousness said, its voice trembling—not out of fear, because the Cancer plague knew no fear, but out of reverence, reverence born from the awareness that this level, though not the highest, was the stage where a cultivator truly began to understand what it meant to be human, what it meant to possess a head that existed not only to think, but to dream of things no one had ever conceived before, "is the peak level within Humanity—though not entirely the peak, because above it still exists Complexity Dao, attainable only by those willing to die for the twelfth time and rise again for the twelfth time, just as you did, Ling Xu, just as you have always done ever since you first decided not to become a victim, not to surrender, not to allow this world to destroy you."
Hhhh!!
"And just like Leg of Humanity and Abdomen of Humanity" the Cancer plague Consciousness continued, its voice no longer deep and resonant, but sharp and piercing once more, like a dagger slowly thrust into someone's back, like a blade carving through layer after layer of flesh until only bones and marrow remained beyond healing. Yet beneath that sharpness, something stirred, something that those who still believed bitter truths were preferable to sweet lies might have called pain. "Among universes inhabited by fellow Head Humanity cultivators—universes far superior to those of Abdomen Humanity, let alone Leg of Humanity—the disparity in potential power is unimaginably vast, Ling Xu. Like heaven and earth, even among cultivators of the same Head Humanity realm. Not merely one or two heavens and earths apart, not a difference measurable through numbers or language—but an infinite disparity, one so overwhelming that a Humanity Head cultivator at the very peak could regard one at the lowest level as nothing more than a shadow, an illusion, something no more real than a dream forgotten upon waking."
To be continued…