Cataclysm: Undead Dragons and Zero Empire

Chapter 139 Two Resurrections

Lin Ziming seemed to have just had a long dream.

He dreamt that he was drifting among countless universes, those once vast and boundless universes seemed to be large bubbles in a water tank, rising and falling under the impact of the water flow.

Upon waking, an invisible barrier between the virtual realm and the subspace repelled him, as the allied agreement had reached the time limit that allowed him to enter the outer perimeter of the blockade.

At the moment of entering the warp, countless surging rivers of faith converged into a boundless ocean, and the prayers of countless believers from human civilization and the Hive civilization were directed at him, like luminous threads wrapped around the eggshell.

The lunar temple complex is currently shrouded in a faint black and red psionic aura. Human civilization is holding a grand ceremony, which is not limited to those who travel to the moon to participate; everyone can pray for it, offer blessings, and dedicate themselves to it.

In the central square of the temple, a huge black stone altar was erected. The material was the same black stone that had once received the Lord's psychic energy on the planet's surface plateau. Terence stood at the very top of the altar, looking down at the densely packed psychics who had come to accept the summons, his eyes filled with solemnity.

This grand ceremony was a spiritual ritual he had painstakingly designed, a grand ceremony to gather the power of all spiritual beings in human civilization to call upon the Lord and welcome His return.

"Everyone, to your positions."

Terence's voice was transmitted through the psionic network to the minds of every psionicist, and also communicated synchronously to the ears of all those who were unable to come to the moon in person.

As the leader gave the order, all the psionicists entered the prepared spaces according to the requirements of the ritual. On the moon, these were quiet rooms scattered throughout the temple complex, while those who participated in the ritual outside the moon often chose to lie in coffins.

Whether it's a quiet room or a coffin, they are completely sealed off, without a trace of light or sound, like cemeteries that have rejected the world.

Countless psionicists placed themselves in darkness and silence, dyeing all the hair on their bodies black with special dyes, covering their entire bodies with black and red pigments, covering their eyes with black stone eye membranes that could block out light, like wearing colored contact lenses, plugging their ears with wax pellets, and sealing their lips, as if they were dead people who had been made up by an embalmer and were waiting for a glorious burial.

I will not look, I will not listen, I will not speak.

Using a mortal body to simulate the state of the dead, shedding the clamor of life, and with the purest consciousness and soul, attempting to touch the boundary between life and death.

Once all the psionicists were ready, Terence lay down in the massive black stone coffin in the center of the altar. He needed no further preparation; he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and completely immersed his consciousness in the vast ocean of psionic energy.

"The festival begins."

The consciousness of all psionicists synchronized, one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand—more and more people's consciousnesses converged like streams into a mighty torrent, breaking through the shackles of reality and entering a shared dream space.

An endless darkness enveloped everyone's consciousness. There was no sound, no light, no up, down, left, or right, no passage of time, only pure, endless nothingness.

At the edge of this void, a warm, low-hanging, dark red sun floats silently.

It doesn't have the dazzling, scorching light of a star, but only a soft, tranquil blackish-red halo, like the setting sun hanging on the horizon, so gentle that it brings tears to one's eyes.

"host----"

Terence's consciousness uttered its first call in the dream space, and his figure appeared in front of the black and red sun, slowly kneeling down in front of it.

Countless human psionicists, including Anna whose body had been taken over by Sera, led the psionicists in the swarm, and countless figures knelt down in the darkness.

As required by the ritual, they cut their palms in a dream and offered their blood.

One drop, two drops, countless drops —

Crimson blood dripped from their palms, gathering in the void to form a blood-red tide that surged toward the dark red sun, like a spring lifting a boulder in an attempt to lift the sleeping sun.

The crimson tide crashed onto the black-red sun's outer shell, but it was like crashing onto an unchanging ancient reef, without stirring up the slightest ripple. The sun remained silently suspended there, motionless, as if still lost in a dream.

Countless psionicists began to pour their psionic energy into the crimson tide with all their might, making the tide increasingly turbulent, yet it could not shake the sun in the slightest.

Terence gazed at the motionless sun, a sense of powerlessness welling up within him. He raised his head and silently uttered a bitter sigh, "Human civilization—is truly insignificant; it is we believers who are powerless."

However, at this moment, a sudden change occurred.

Dragon, Lord of Death, Redeemer, Supreme Benefactor —

Countless names and deeds related to Lin Ziming flowed into Lin Ziming's consciousness with the power of faith.

These powers could not directly help Lin Ziming, but these insights helped him anchor his consciousness, and he opened his "eyes" again in the black and red sun.

A vast surge of psionic energy erupted from Lin Ziming's center, and countless fine cracks suddenly appeared on the surface of the sun, which was originally shaped like an eggshell, spreading out little by little like a spider web.

Flames, symbolizing the end of all things, erupted from the cracks, burning a sea of ​​fire in the chaos of the warp, akin to hell for the demons.

The cracks in the eggshell grew larger and larger, and the tendency to break apart became more and more obvious, as if the life about to hatch was accumulating the power to break free from its constraints and was about to let out its first cry to the outside world.

Lin Ziming curled up at the core of the black and red sun. At this moment, his once chaotic and conflicting identity perceptions finally merged, and he understood his recognized identity and true name in this world.

He is Lin Zimo, a transmigrator from Earth, the last descendant of the Heavenly Dragon Clan, the guardian of the empire, the undead Heavenly Dragon, the god of death who wields the power of zeroing out, the abyss of death and annihilation, and the final will that walks beyond the void.

All identities, all memories, all power, finally merged into one at this moment.

"I am who I am."

Lin Ziming's consciousness issued its first declaration amidst the boundless flames.

With this announcement, the black and red sun that enveloped him suddenly collapsed inward, and then instantly expanded outward.

The warp trembled violently under this force, and countless spatial rifts spread out in the chaos. Even the ancient entities deep within the warp trembled in fear, shrinking themselves into the chaos and daring not to make the slightest sound.

All the information about Lin Zimo that had been erased from the real universe by the Existence Erasure Protocol reappeared in the human civilization that was praying to him.

The universe will eventually remember his name again, just like the lingering nightmare of calamity.

Lin Ziming began to rapidly ascend towards the shallow layers of subspace from within a cracked, dark red sun.

As he drew closer to the real universe, the veil that separated the two dimensions began to tremble from afar, tearing open like a thin veil.

As the quietly suspended, dark red sun rose, it suddenly burst into countless dazzling, outward-radiating dark red rays of light, and its outer shell cracked open with countless huge fissures from the inside, like a shattered eggshell.

A silent cracking sound resounded deep within the consciousness of all the psionicists participating in the ritual.

That dark red sun completely disintegrated at that moment.

Black and red flames erupted from the shattered eggshell, illuminating the boundless darkness. Instead of scattering, the disintegrating fragments of the sun were transformed into pure nourishment, which was completely devoured by the slowly unfolding dragon-bone figure at the center of the sun.

Just like a newborn chick that eats the eggshell that nurtured it, gaining the first strength to hatch.

The dragon-bone figure, having devoured all the fragments of the sun, revealed its terrifying form amidst the boundless flames.

"My name is the Abyss of Death and Destruction."

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