Godslayer: Reincarnated with SSS Rank Cultivation System

Wen Ran's heart sank as an inexplicable chill coursed through his veins, freezing him from the inside out. His black hair, once dark as night, began to shift, turning as white as freshly fallen snow. From the side, one would think he was teetering on the brink of death. Beneath the layer of burnt and charred skin, a new layer began to emerge. What was once tanned and weathered from days of labor under the scorching sun now transformed into pale, smooth skin, radiating an otherworldly glow.

A cold, oppressive aura radiated from his body in waves, hitting both the rabbit and Fang Jinyao with suffocating force. Their bodies trembled instinctively, paralyzed by the sheer weight of his transformation. His once warm, brown eyes shifted, morphing into a radiant, blood-red hue—bright as gems and dripping with an unnatural power.

Fang Jinyao watched the scene unfold, her breath caught in her throat. Her world seemed to shatter before her eyes. The person she had loved and adored was changing into something unrecognizable.

"No... this isn't real… it's not…" Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. "Ah… my Wen Ran… just what is happening to you?!"

Crackle!

The heavens raged louder, their fury unrestrained. Outside the city walls, terrified onlookers gazed at the darkened skies. The black clouds churned and grew heavier, the light of crackling lightning illuminating the trembling faces of the crowd. Many fell to their knees, their fear palpable. Hands clasped in desperate prayer, they muttered chants to appease the heavens. Whatever calamity had been unleashed, they hoped it would pass before the city was reduced to ashes.

Even Fang Jinyao's father and grandfather stood frozen, their fists clenched tightly as they observed the chaos from the safety of their stronghold. They didn't dare to interfere. Both knew all too well that the wrath of the heavens would destroy anyone foolish enough to step in. Neither of them was confident they could withstand such punishment.

"How did my Fang Clan manage to offend the heavens?" the grandfather muttered, his gaze fixed on the storm raging above. His expression twisted into worry as his eyes darted around. "Where the hell is that brat? Don't tell me she's still in the city!"

"Let it be," Fang Jinyao's father said coldly, his lips curling into a sinister smile. "If she's the one who caused this, it's better for us. If she dies, I can take back my power. What will that old dog do after that?" His voice carried venom, his hatred barely contained.

Meanwhile, no one suspected that Wen Ran was the cause of the chaos. In their eyes, he was nothing more than a lowly slave, a cripple unworthy of the heavens' attention. Their thoughts naturally turned to Fang Jinyao. She was a known cultivation genius, the pride of the Fang Clan, and to them, the only possible explanation for such a terrifying phenomenon.

Crackle!

The third bolt crashed down on Wen Ran, obliterating the floor beneath him and reducing the books and scrolls in the room to ash. These cultivation methods, so revered and priceless in this world, vanished into thin air. If anyone witnessed their destruction, they would likely want to gouge out their eyes in despair—it was a loss too profound for any cultivator to bear.

"AAARRGGGHHH!" Wen Ran finally let out a blood-curdling scream, his voice echoing with raw agony. His entire body felt as if it were being torn apart from the inside out. The acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air, so potent it could make even the most hardened warrior vomit. Fang Jinyao staggered back, her knees buckling as the smell hit her nostrils. She collapsed onto the floor, helpless and horrified. From her vantage point, she thought it was over.

She stared at the man she adored as his body slumped lifelessly to the ground, unmoving. Above, the dark sky showed faint signs of scattering as sunlight began to pierce through the thick, oppressive clouds.

"Wen Ran?" she whispered, her voice trembling as her heart threatened to shatter. Tears streamed down her face, but the rabbit sitting beside her remained eerily calm, its bright eyes fixed on Wen Ran's body with an oddly knowing expression. It could sense something stirring within him, something far from ordinary.

Suddenly, golden brilliance began to seep through the cracks in the charred, blackened skin.

"H...hihihi..." A demonic laugh tore through the silence, metallic and raw, like steel scraping against steel.

"HUOOOO!" The unearthly howl that followed sent shivers down Fang Jinyao's spine, shaking her to her core.

The burnt layer of skin peeled away on its own, revealing pale, ghostly flesh beneath—a complexion so unearthly that it seemed to belong to a spirit rather than a man.

"This power…" Wen Ran's voice, low and chilling, broke the tension. A wild grin stretched across his face, his red eyes gleaming like blood-soaked rubies. "Hahaha… What an idiot I was in my past life." He rose slowly, his figure commanding and fearsome. "I should have walked this path long ago… Then even the gods would have trembled in my presence."

Fang Jinyao could only stare in horror as his words, foreign and cold, cut through the air like blades. Yet, something about his tone struck her deeply, triggering a vision in her mind. She saw an ethereal, breathtakingly beautiful woman being slain by a devilishly handsome man—a figure that looked eerily similar to Wen Ran. She had never experienced visions before. So why now?

"I, Wen Ran, gladly accept the demonic path," he declared, his voice reverberating with chilling certainty. He stood tall, his muscles slightly more defined and his frame visibly taller, exuding an aura of unrestrained dominance. His eyes fell on Fang Jinyao, who cowered in the corner. Yet, to her surprise—and his—he felt no urge to kill her, not yet.

No… Not yet. I want to see her grow, to see her regain her full power… and then I'll slay her again. His crimson gaze brushed past her as if she were nothing more than an afterthought.

Without a word, Wen Ran shot toward the direction of the Fang Palace, his movements swift and purposeful. His goal was clear: the black sword.