Godslayer: Reincarnated with SSS Rank Cultivation System-Chapter 178: The True Birth of a Demon

Wen Ran advanced through the thick fog, which seemed to grow denser and more oppressive with each passing moment. Strangely, the powerful auras lurking in the shadows couldn't sense his presence at all, as if the system itself was concealing him. It wasn't only Wen Ran's own bloodthirst radiating outward now—the system itself was restless, craving release, eager to burst forth and begin slaughtering, demanding the sacrifice of everyone nearby.

The feeling was strange, dark, twisted—and yet, Wen Ran relished it. Something within him welcomed the hunger, savored the thrill of death that seemed to seep into his bones. Beside him, however, Xiao Mo trembled violently, her small body shuddering uncontrollably. She felt an immense chill, deeper and more profound than any fear she had ever known. It was as if death itself had appeared before her, reaching out to guide her gently across the golden river, toward a silent eternity from which there would be no return.

Yet soon, even Xiao Mo started to feel the irresistible urge to kill. She, too, was bound by the system, brought to this world solely to serve Wen Ran—to become his spirit beast. In a strange, unsettling way, whatever Wen Ran felt, she also experienced. That raw, insatiable lust for blood and the desire to reclaim lost lifespan began to seep into her very bones, and she willingly embraced it. She silently vowed to stand by her master's side, to strike down anyone and everyone he wished dead. It didn't matter if it was the strongest beast in the universe; right now, she simply didn't care. She was too far gone, already swallowed by darkness.

The two traveled swiftly through the oppressive fog. Xiao Mo sat quietly on Wen Ran's shoulder, her soft white fur brushing gently against his neck. Before long, the massive gates came into view, towering above them as if guarding something precious. The walls surrounding the village were crafted from flawless marble, so perfect that one could mistake this place for the palace of an immortal god. Yet, despite its grand appearance, it merely housed ordinary mortals. Strangely, there were no guards at the gates, no observers hidden within the shadows to notice their silent approach.

But one thing was certain: a sudden scent of death hung heavily in the air. The mortals inside the village felt something sinister creeping toward them. It was an uneasy, unsettling sensation that many quickly brushed off, dismissing it as a fleeting premonition. Perhaps the immortal emperor was displeased with them, or perhaps today's rain carried a strange smell that lingered ominously on the ground. None of them could have imagined the truth—that atop their own village gates stood a beast whose crimson eyes shone brightly through the fog's darkness, piercing the very air around them. If anyone dared to glance upward, all they would see was that pair of terrifying eyes staring back.

Wen Ran's eyes narrowed, crimson pupils gleaming ominously, his aura thickening around him like black smoke twisting in the fog. Each heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears, every breath deepened with cold resolve, as his gaze pierced the veil of mist, watching every movement of the oblivious mortals below. Killing mortals was taboo—not just in this world, but in every realm—because mortals had no means of defending themselves. Only the most vile and rotten individuals would dare to slaughter them, usually the demonic cultivators who were despised by all. And now, Wen Ran had fully accepted stepping onto that dark and bloodstained path.

Or had he?

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At this moment, nobody could say for certain whether it was the system that controlled him, or if it was his own desperate desire to reclaim what had been taken from him. After all, this world was not his own—why should he care who lived or died here? The memories of that day flooded Wen Ran's mind—the countless faces twisted in agony, their desperate pleas silenced by the merciless blade of a god. It wasn't just his family; it was every friend, every innocent soul, every life he had ever known and cherished, wiped away in a single heartbeat. Their cries still haunted him, a deafening chorus of pain forever etched within him. Nobody asked if they wished to live, nobody cared if their deaths were acceptable—so why should he care now?

He had never been a saint, after all. And now he wasn't even human, at least not in his heart. Looking down at those mortals—nothing but lambs for him to slaughter—filled his mind with twisted satisfaction, an unnatural pleasure that surged through his veins.

I can't believe that all I have to do to take back my lifespan is kill some nobodies. This is perfect. The system will surely demand even more lifespan from me, and I have so little to spare. But next time, I'll be ready. If I must kill again and again to regain whatever I've lost, then I will. I'll keep killing until there's nobody left, and then I'll kill the gods themselves, ending everything in one final strike. The heavens don't deserve to exist unless I reforge them with my own hands. No god will ever again dictate what I can or cannot do. Then, mother and father, and all the souls from my world will finally rest in peace—even if that means I must remain eternally alone for all existence. It's a price I'm willing to pay.

He jumped down from the gate, his feet landing softly with a faint "tchk," a gentle tap marking the arrival of death. His blade rested casually yet menacingly in his hand. Beside him, Xiao Mo's previously pure white fur seemed to darken slightly, an eerie glint flickering through her bright blue eyes. Her small, once-innocent form now radiated an unmistakable madness, a hunger to devour life itself—an unmistakable reflection of the darkness now deeply embedded within her master.

One by one, the mortals noticed the pair's sudden presence. None dared question who these intruders were or why they had come. Instead, a deep, instinctual fear overcame them—a desperate urge to run, to flee as far as they could, even if it meant throwing themselves off the edge of the world itself. Anything would be safer than remaining here, trapped within this marble prison with two devils who had appeared from nowhere.

Two hunters had stepped quietly into the sheep's pasture. And when their bloody work was done, this peaceful pocket dimension would plunge headlong into madness.

"Let's go, Xiao Mo. We have a feast to attend," Wen Ran's voice cut sharply through the fog, echoing like the decree of a death god. An immense pressure flooded the entire village, forcing mortals to their knees, choking on their breath, feeling as though invisible blades pressed against their throats—this was the end of their fragile peace.