The Strangling of Civilization

When Shichen stepped in front of me, I heard the Great Dao shatter inside me, like glass breaking piece by piece in the depths of the sea. The sound shook my soul. Yang Mei stood nearby, the laws of space in his palm condensed into a barrier thin as a cicada's wing, holding back the alien gods' overwhelming divine might. “You're the last one.” Shichen didn't look back. Yang Mei smiled faintly. The ancient demon gods had long since made peace with death. Together, the two of them detonated their Great Dao origins. White light swallowed everything. In the distance, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven roared as his Golden-Hooped Staff snapped with a crash, like a pillar holding up the sky collapsing from within. The entire battlefront crumbled, and the ultimate judgment of Blue Star descended. Across the heavens, only a handful of powerful beings remained: Erlang, Nezha, the Great Sage, Fuxi, Shichen, and Yang Mei. The Great Sage led the others in a suicidal charge. The Golden-Hooped Staff shattered, Yang Jian's third eye went dark, and Nezha's true form was consumed by scorching flames. Shichen and Yang Mei fought to protect me, not to defeat the enemy. Shichen's divine sense entered my sea of consciousness. “You've come far enough in this life. Go back and start over.” Yang Mei said softly, “You inherited the legacy of the Demon God of Mental Power. As long as your sea of consciousness survives, so will you. Return to before it all began.” White light enveloped me. When I opened my eyes again, the ultimate battle of ages had become the past. I was reborn in 2026. There was only one year left before the alien vanguard, the Machine Race, invaded Blue Star.