The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin

Underground, within a sealed barrier in the core area, everyone sat on the ground, tense and silent.

And in the middle of the group was a pot with a potato.

Clearly, that was Liu Ji.

Since the strange incident occurred, he had turned into a potato. Osar felt that since Liu Ji had turned into a potato, he should be planted back in the soil. Thus, he found a flowerpot, filled it with some soil, and planted Liu Ji in it.

At this moment, a stone golem brought in a few cups of water, placing one beside each person before turning and leaving the barrier.

However, no one picked up their cups to drink. Osar did pick up his cup, but only to water Liu Ji.

Seeing her downcast companions all silent, Girunini was unable to sit still and spoke up, "Uh, if I remember correctly, Mr. Myza said we could talk in here, right?"

Mervant glanced at her and sighed. "So, what do you want to say?"

"I… Well, I just wanted to say that even though the Tyrant is here, we still…" Girunini began but then faltered, holding her forehead and cursing softly, "Damn it, we can't do anything…"

Girunini froze up at first, then buried her head in Caridora's embrace, her shoulders trembling slightly.

Calidora said nothing, just gently stroking her companion's hair.

Mervant let out a long sigh, lowered his head and rested it in his hands.

Yaine went beside Osar, pulling the flowerpot with Liu Ji closer and staring at the shimmering glass-like leaves.

Osar patted her shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.

Yaine returned a smile, albeit a weak one.

Fear, silence, pressure, and unease permeated every creek and crevice, making every one of them feel stifled…

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"I've heard stories about you." Myza and the man in the scarlet cloak stood opposite each other on a sand dune beyond the ancient city. "The legends depict you as somewhat of a madman, but I never imagined you to be concerned about the wellbeing of my golems."

"In the eyes of my enemies, I have always been mad, or rather… terrifying." The man in the crimson cape smiled slightly. "And perhaps, those golems might not necessarily be yours."

"Oh? So you sought me out because you wish to purchase some art?" Myza's expression showed little subtleties. "That's a tad disappointing. Do you think so little of me?"

"You? Haha, how interesting. Did you think that killing some of my minions qualifies you to challenge me?" As the man said that, his figure suddenly flickered. In the next moment, he was behind Myza.

Turning back, he said disdainfully, "Killing you is effortless."

As he finished speaking, Myza's entire right up silently slid off, hitting the ground with a thud. No blood squirted out, and the section of the stump was a pure, clean white, as if it was a piece of cut white jade.

"Impressive. I must admit, I've never seen a faster sword in my life," Myza said, bending down to pick up his fallen arm and casually reattaching it. "But this manner of a greeting is rather rude, don't you think?"

His body flickered, and he threw a punch at the caped man's face, which struck him squarely.

Explosive force rippled outward, kicking up a storm of sand.

But despite how powerful the strike seemed, it only made the man's upper body tilt back about 15 degrees, and his face didn't even have a scratch.

In contrast, half of Myza's body was shattered by the recoil, turning into sand.

"Ha, that punch strength is decent." The man nodded. "But I don't think you are a boxer, are you?"

"Indeed, I haven't trained in boxing. I just wanted to vent by punching you," Myza said coldly as the missing half of his body reformed as if nothing had happened.

"So, have you vented enough now?" the man asked with a smile.

"No, quite the opposite. I'm much angrier now," Myza replied icily. "You should know what you have done to this world."

"Hmm? You're angry because of that?" The man was a little surprised. "So, what do you plan to do? Kill me?"

"I think your suggestion isn't too bad," Myza said, his lips twitching.

"You? A mere indestructible toy?" The man laughed heartily. "You don't think I've never dealt with an immortal like you before?" the man sneered.

Myza, however, seemed uninterested in exchanging more perfunctory words. Before the man could finish speaking, Myza threw another punch at his face.

The man didn't shirk or evade; he just took it straight in the face like before.

This punch was even more ferocious than the previous. The immense energy created a temporary vacuum at the point of impact, displacing all the air and kicking up a spherical cloud of sand, which expanded, burst, and then scattered in all directions as a chaotic sandstorm.

This time, the man finally took half a step back.

But the cost was high—Myza's entire body was pulverized by the force, far beyond its ability to endure.

Though Myza reformed in an instant, the man saw a glimpse of red amid the dispersing dust.

Then, the man struck.

Moving with blinding speed, his hand pierced through Myza's chest and emerged from his back.

And now in his hand was a crimson crystal.

"This is your core, isn't it?" The man smirked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Myza. "How about that? Can you still boast about your grand ambitions when your own life is in someone else's hands?"

Myza turned his head to glance at the crystal in the man's hand, then looked back, his gaze still indifferent.

"Yes, congratulations. You've grabbed the core of this body." Myza shrugged. "Why don't you… try crushing it?"

"Ha, how amusing," the man sneered. "Why not?"

With that, he exerted his strength, effortlessly crushing the crystal as if it were an ice cream cone.

In that moment, he could sense a certain power vanish.

He instinctively assumed that it was the power sustaining Myza's life force. Thus, he watched Myza's face, waiting for anguish and despair to show.

Those were his favorite expressions.

However, what he saw was a more complex emotion.

He saw Myza gazing at the sky, his eyes full of hatred, yet beneath that hatred lay a sense of nostalgia, like seeing an old friend after many years.

"Sigh, I didn't realize how long it had been since I felt this way…" Myza muttered to himself.

The man frowned as he sensed something was wrong. He looked up into the sky but saw nothing unusual…

No…

Something wasn't right.

He blinked and only felt the world turn upside down as if he was about to fall into a sea of blood.

He blinked another time, and the clear skies returned.

He blinked once more, and the blood-colored sky reappeared.

Then, as he stared at the blood-stained sky, the sky opened its eyes.

A blood-red moon was gazing down at the land, gazing at him.

"Mm, it's here," Myza said, gazing at the moon. "Well then, good luck. I'll be off first."

In the next instant, he transformed into fine white sand, dispersing into the boundless desert.

Gazing at that blood-red moon, the man's lips twitched, and he slowly uttered a single word.

"F*ck…"

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