"You're going personally?"
In the Administrative Center, the demon administrators could scarcely believe their ears. The Thousand-Eyed Abyss—even its name made Demon Lords hesitate. Now, with unknown disturbances fresh, their Lord intended to risk his life there?
"Hmm." Lin Mo's reply was a single syllable. He owed no explanations; his decision was final.
He took no massive army, nor did he inform many. His only companions were an elite "advance team": Glak, the lich chief supremely sensitive to energy fluctuations; Mosek, a gargoyle scholar well-versed in ancient Demon Realm runes; and two guards—Rokar, a former Lava Troll, and Venomfang, a vassal of the Rot Marsh Lord—both uniquely adapted to harsh environments.
There was no grand send-off, only a faint energy ripple from the Demon Network's core node. A flash of silver light, and Lin Mo's team vanished from the Administrative Center's top floor.
The next moment, they appeared in a land utterly unlike the Commonwealth's territories.
No sickly yellow sky here—only an eternal darkness, thick as spilled ink, pressing down suffocatingly. Beneath their feet lay cold, mirror-smooth black rock, stretching endlessly to the horizon. The air reeked of ancient decay, yet carried an eerie, overwhelming density of information. The thin demonic energy here turned wildly volatile... and "heavy," as if each wisp bore fragments of ten-thousand-year-old memories.
This was the Abyss's outer edge—the "Corridor of Annihilation."
"Energy readings are chaotic... the rule structure is extremely unstable!" Glak's bone detector shrieked, its runes flashing frantically. "There's massive unidentifiable information turbulence—beware! It could directly assault our consciousness!"
No sooner had he spoken than an invisible mental tempest surged forth. Rokar roared, his body flaring with crimson lava light to resist. Venomfang spewed a cloud of墨绿色 (dark green) poison mist, trying to neutralize the chaotic thoughts. Mosek swiftly etched stabilizing runes in the air; silver light shimmered, shielding the team.
Lin Mo stood firm, letting fragments of madness, whispers, and ancient visions surge through his consciousness unflinchingly. His spiritual sense, like an unyielding reef, repelled the noise while sharp-eyed capturing valuable clues within.
"Keep up." He spoke softly, stepping forward. His pace was slow, yet each step sent faint ripples across the mirror-black stone—calming the狂暴 (狂暴) energy and chaotic rules around them, carving a relatively stable path.
The team followed, aghast as their Lord strolled through a peril even Demon Lords dared not linger in.
Deeper in, the scenery grew bizarre. Space扭曲 (twisted) at times, revealing shattered glimpses of other eras—ancient battlefields, grand yet broken palaces, bones of unimaginable behemoths. At other moments, low murmurs, as if from beyond the world itself, echoed directly in their minds, tempting them astray or into madness.
Mosek deciphered lost ancient runes etched occasionally in the rock, his face growing grave. "My Lord, these inscriptions... hold fragments of the world's creation, the weaving of rules... and scattered mentions of 'Observers'."
"Observers?" Glak's soul-fire flickered sharply.
"Yes—not just 'Zero'. It's more like a... group, or a role." Mosek's voice wavered. "They seem to... record, adjust, and occasionally... 'intervene'."
Lin Mo's eyes glinted; he did not pause.
Days later, they reached the Corridor of Annihilation's end. Before them loomed a colossal, heaven-spanning "wound."
It was no mere spatial rift, but a more fundamental "absence"—as if the world's canvas had been torn violently here, exposing the chaotic, churning, indescribably colored "underlayer" beneath. Countless twisted, living-like rule threads writhed at the wound's edge, trying to mend it, only to be snapped repeatedly by some force. This was the source of the terrifying energy fluctuations and spatial distortions detected earlier!
And directly before this world-wound, a figure hovered.
He wore a simple white robe, tall and slender, with loose black hair. His face was utterly ordinary—so plain it faded from memory the moment you looked away. He floated silently before the chaos, back to the group, gazing up at the terrifying wound like a scholar studying a painting.
He emanated no energy, no aura of pressure. Yet his presence formed an eerie balance with the world-wound, as if he were part of the horrifying scene itself.
Glak, Mosek, and the others tensed instantly, on high alert. They sensed this "person" was far more... dangerous than any being they had faced—an existential, incomprehensible danger!
Lin Mo raised a hand, signaling them to relax.
He stepped forward, stopping ten paces from the robed figure.
"Observer Zero?" His voice rang clear in the dead silence.
The robed figure turned slowly. His eyes were pure silver—no pupils, no emotion—only endless, cold data streams flickering, appearing and vanishing within.
He looked at Lin Mo, his gaze sweeping over him as if absorbing countless pieces of information in an instant.
"Designation 73—you may address me as such." His voice was flat, toneless, like machine-synthesized speech.
His eyes drifted past Lin Mo, settling on the tense team behind him—and the faint energy traces of Commonwealth technology glowing on their bodies.
"Based on preliminary observation data, your civilization's evolutionary path has deviated significantly from projections." Observer 73 continued in that unwavering tone. "Technological leap speed exceeds model simulations by 472%. Social structure stability has risen to abnormal thresholds. Adaptive research on the 'Chaos Origin'—" he gestured to the world-wound behind him "—has reached the initial threshold."
He paused, the data streams in his silver eyes accelerating.
"This deviation has triggered the 'Correction Protocol'."
"The Correction Protocol?" Lin Mo's brows lifted slightly.
"To ensure the diversity of observed samples and the stability of fundamental rules, civilizations that deviate excessively from preset trajectories shall be restricted, guided, or... eliminated." Observer 73's explanation was cold and brutal, as if stating a routine procedure.
Glak and the other demons were horrified. Restricted? Guided? Eliminated? Just because they had developed too fast? Too stably? What kind of absurd logic was this!
Lin Mo, however, showed no surprise—only a look of realization.
"So that 'investment' was bait? To accelerate our 'deviation', and trigger your 'correction' faster?"
Observer 73 neither confirmed nor denied. He simply stared at Lin Mo calmly. "Your existence is the greatest variable in this observation. Your knowledge system does not belong to this realm. Your behavioral patterns cannot be parsed by existing models."
The data streams in his silver eyes locked onto Lin Mo.
"Per protocol, Variable 'Lin Mo' is designated a 'High-Priority Correction Target'."
The moment the words fell, Observer 73 raised his hand.
There was no earth-shattering energy burst, no brilliant clash of laws.
But the space around Lin Mo—and the very "definition" of his existence—began to be forcefully rewritten, stripped away, and reverted by an invisible, absolute power!
This was an attack beyond the level of energy and matter—one that targeted "existence" itself!