Chương 109: The Great Abara

Accompanied by that bloodthirsty laughter, a powerful presence suddenly descended, carrying an endless pressure that swept across the land like a tidal wave, as if it would swallow the entire world. Under that overwhelming force, Zhao Lian'er was jolted out of her daze. She looked up and saw, high above the nine heavens, a massive black goat slowly descending through the air. Its colossal body seemed to fill the entire sky, covered in a layer of pitch-black scales that gleamed with cold, eerie purple light.

Its crimson eyes gleamed with cruelty, savagery, and malice. Just one glance at it sent a chill down her spine. Her whole body trembled, her mind faltered, and even her breathing became labored. Zhao Lian'er turned her head with difficulty to look at Fang Cheng beside her. Seeing that the only change in him was a wider grin and more drool, she felt somewhat reassured. When the sky falls, the tallest holds it up. At least until Fang Cheng fell, she could still survive and not be crushed by this terrifying beast.

But even so, she dared not look up again at the black goat in the sky, afraid of being the first one it set its eyes on. Zhu Old Six, as the only ordinary mortal present, couldn't withstand the pressure at all. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. Fortunately, Fang Cheng left a trace of his aura to shield him from the pressure. Otherwise, he would have been flattened into a pile of flesh. Now, someone might ask: Who is this black goat?

He is but one being among countless worlds, small yet great. The masses have given him the title of Heavenly Demon, but in truth, he is merely an ordinary creature who achieved immortality through an unconventional path.

"Abara Bu Yage." That was his name. In the old tongue, it meant "a winding river on the grassland."

"Baa-ow!" Do you hear it? A soft cry in the darkness. We turn our gaze and see the great Abara emerging from his mother's womb. As an infant, he had a hideous, deformed head, topped with five sharp horns. Those horns were razor-sharp. They tore through his mother's belly. The plump, tender ewe let out a few pained bleats, then fell still and stopped breathing. That was Abara's first kill.

He crawled onto his mother's corpse, opened his mouth, bared his fangs, and sank them into her neck without hesitation, greedily and hungrily sucking the blood. As the youngest of parasites, he ate slowly, like an elegant gentleman, savoring the meal bit by bit, drop by drop. Only when he had drained every last drop did he lick his lips with lingering satisfaction, crawl off his mother's belly, and burrow underneath her corpse.

"Baa, baa, baa..." Abara let out a series of weak cries, like a newborn lamb, soft and full of innocence. The sound drifted outward, from near to far. The farm owner woke from his sleep. Hearing those tender, gentle cries, he quickly dressed, pushed open the door, and walked out to the sheep pen. Seeing the ewe dead from a difficult birth, he felt a pang of sorrow and sighed. Wait. Something was wrong. There was blood everywhere, and the ewe's belly was torn open. It didn't look like a difficult birth.

It looked like a C-section. Damn it. Some bastard must have broken in during the night and killed his sheep!

"Baa, baa, baa..." The weak bleating snapped the farm owner out of his anger. He followed the sound and found a tiny lamb hiding under the dead ewe. It looked so frail, its body twitching, its limbs curled up, as if it could die at any moment. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. At that sight, a surge of protective instinct flooded the farm owner's heart. Without a second thought, he rushed over, lifted the ewe's body, reached in, and pulled out the lamb.

He placed it on his knee, then bent down and kissed its forehead, as if it were his own child. At the same time, the farm owner looked at the ewe with admiration. What a great mother. Even in death, she had protected her precious little lamb, shielding it from the enemy with her own body, saving its life.

"This is truly great. Even a rough, crude farmer like me is moved and awed!" Before he knew it, the farm owner had dropped to his knees and was kowtowing to the ewe, his head thumping against the ground. There was nothing wrong with that. This was the spirit of the great mother ewe, worthy of respect and reverence from every living soul with a conscience. Hahahaha... Not only did he kowtow, but he also prostrated himself, pressing his whole body to the ground, especially his neck.

Because only then could the lovely, fragile Abara reach the farm owner's tender neck. Slowly, Abara opened his mouth, his sharp teeth gently piercing the farm owner's carotid artery. He began to savor the fresh blood...

"Baa!"

"Mmm!" Abara's cries grew quicker, louder, more excited. He couldn't help but sing.

"Oh, great farmer, thank you for your generous gift. Your blood brings me endless joy and strength. My farmer, my father, you are as brave and kind as my mother!"

"Hahahaha..." The moment the words left his mouth, Abara burst into laughter. With his father's strength, he grew stronger. His limbs wobbled, but he managed to hold him up. He couldn't run yet, but he could stand. He needed more power. His mother and father had already been drained dry. There was nothing left. So he left the sheep pen and went to the chicken coop next door. The old hen woke in terror.

Seeing the horrifying creature before her, she shit and pissed in fright, flapping her wings and running as fast as she could. Abara couldn't catch the old hen, so he set his sights on the chicks instead. These plump little chicks were even more delicious than his mother and father.

"Hahahaha..." Abara laughed with joy, waking the chicks. They clucked in fear. Mother, where was Mother?

"Mother's right here! Cluck, cluck, cluck..." Abara mimicked the hen's voice perfectly. The foolish chicks thought he was their mother and happily rushed into his mouth. Their chirping went from his mouth down to his stomach, dissolving in the thick acid.

"Burp!"

"Burp!" Abara ate all the chicks and let out a satisfied burp. His power grew. His skin began to change, first a faint purple glow, then spreading rapidly across his body. He grew uglier but also more ferocious, radiating a terrifying aura. His eyes gleamed with evil bloodlust, and a faint trace of primal beast energy clung to him. Bathed in red light, black scales and hard shells grew from beneath his skin, tightly interlocking like an indestructible suit of demonic armor, encasing his entire body.

His frame began to swell, muscles bulging and knotting into a twisted, grotesque mass of raw power. Coarse black hair sprouted along his spine and limbs, bristling like a boar's mane, each strand radiating foul, unholy energy. His head grew more hideous still. His snout elongated and narrowed, his lips peeling back to reveal rows of jagged fangs, each stained with dark, dried blood.

His tongue became long and thin, forked like a serpent's, flickering out constantly to taste the air, as if savoring the lingering scent of blood. His ears melted away, replaced by a pair of long, twisted, goat-like ears that angled backward and twitched incessantly, catching every faint sound in the air. His eyes burned like sulfur, glowing a hellish dark gold, his pupils slitted like a serpent's, and deep within them, countless tormented souls seemed to writhe and scream.

His eye sockets sank deep into his skull, his brow ridges jutting out, casting heavy shadows across his face, making those eyes appear as two fathomless vortexes of sin, dragging any who dared meet his gaze into a whirlpool of terror. Above his brow, five horns curled at grotesque angles, slowly growing longer and thicker, each pulsing with raw demonic energy and bloodthirsty hunger.

They twisted and intertwined in different directions, forming a crown of pure darkness, the largest of them pointing straight at the sky, gleaming with an ominous black-purple light. His lower body began to warp and shift. His legs bent backward, transforming into powerful, reversed goat legs, his feet becoming massive cloven hooves with jagged, pitch-black nails that could tear through stone.

A thick, sinewy tail extended from the base of his spine, its tip shaped like an arrowhead, covered in fine scales, lashing back and forth like a scorpion's stinger. The air grew thick with the stench of brimstone, and with each breath he took, the ground trembled, as if the earth itself feared this creature that had crawled from the abyss. He threw his head back and howled, his voice like the horn of hell, carrying the wails and curses of countless lost souls.

His face was ancient and evil, old as time itself, so vile that even the stars seemed to dim before him—a foul being that had devoured worlds and endured across eons. Between his five horns, black lightning crackled and coiled, and with every breath, the very air around him twisted and warped, as if reality itself could not bear his presence.