Chapter 172
There was one more thought.
Among the vibrant lights of the world, in front of the food stall he was willing to die for—there were the Jian family’s stewards and servants, Hu Danggui, Niu Tou, the loyal customers…
But most importantly—there was Taotie.
‘When everything ends… would you stay with me?’
That thought… was too selfish.
Jian Yunlan hesitated for a long time, but in the end, he didn’t say it.
The sky, now a rotting mouth of flesh and blood, was beginning to close.
Everyone stood at the edge of a jagged, razor-sharp cliff.
Jian Yunlan thought to himself, I’m just an ordinary human. My power is weak. But with the divine strength granted by the Chef God System… maybe, just maybe, I can resist a little. Together with everyone.
As for Taotie…
He was an ancient beast. He could live tens of millions of years. All of this—this disaster, this dying world—would be just a fleeting footnote in his vast life. He’d forget it soon enough.
He could return—to the world beyond. To his cave dwelling in the Mountain and Sea Plane, watching flowers bloom in spring, snow fall in winter… continuing his carefree, beastly life.
Taotie didn’t need to perish here with him.
The sky, heavy with rotting flesh, continued to descend. A wind came from far away—like a violent flood, or perhaps a low, mournful wail. Sparks from the hellfire danced in the air between them, flickering before being swept away.
Taotie only lowered his eyes, gazing at him. His long silver hair was tousled by the wind.
His golden pupils were shrouded in shadow, the light too dim to read any emotion.
The sky pressed down to the top of Jian Yunlan’s head. He reached out, gently touching the twisted flesh.
Where his fingertip made contact, the bloody sky reacted like it had been burned—hissing with a burst of steam. But the rest of the sky, vast and relentless, continued its descent. It was not swayed by this trivial resistance.
With a thunderous boom, rain began to pour.
Thankfully, this time it wasn’t corrosive—just ordinary rain. But the sky had fallen too close to the ground. Even normal rain now felt unbearable. Everyone was drenched, soaked to the bone like pitiful stray dogs.
The oppressive sky forced people to bend down—some crouched, some simply lay flat on the ground.
Desperate screams and wails rang out from every direction.
And then, at last—after a long silence—Taotie spoke.
“Jian Yunlan.”
His voice was low, a little hoarse, the last syllable trailing off like a question:
“If I get lost… would you come find me?”
This time, he didn’t call him “Human.” He called his full name, clearly, solemnly. And for the first time ever, he didn’t use “this lord” —he used “I.”
In the roar of the storm, amid the furious winds and torrential rain, Jian Yunlan could barely hear him. Otherwise, he would have realized just how seriously Taotie had asked that question—stubbornly, earnestly.
“Of course I would,” Jian Yunlan said, his bangs soaked and clinging to his forehead. He took a deep breath. He didn’t lower his head or bend his back. Instead, he reached out his hands and held up the sky—maybe it was just his imagination, but it felt like the sky’s descent really had slowed, just a little.
With a half-smile, he added, “If you go missing, where’s a black-hearted boss like me supposed to find such a hardworking employee?”
At that, Taotie stared at him—his expression cooled.
He looked almost… hurt.
He turned away, gaze shifting to the side. After a long pause, he gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh and murmured:
“I was being serious.”
Jian Yunlan fell silent too, turning to look at him.
The wind blew past them, filled with sparks and the ash of rotting flesh. Though the hellfire still raged, the storm had darkened everything. The light was so dim, Jian Yunlan could barely make out Taotie’s face.
He couldn’t help but step closer. And then a little closer still—close enough that their breaths mingled.
Through the rain, Jian Yunlan finally saw Taotie’s eyes.
Even the mighty and illustrious Lord Taotie, fearsome beast though he was, was now drenched by the rain like a soaked stray dog. His silver hair clung wetly to the sides of his face, his thin lips pressed together in a faint line.
But those dark golden eyes—unchanged after all these years—still looked at Jian Yunlan, just like always.
At some point, it had become a habit. Beside the little food stall he loved most, the one he was willing to give everything for, there was always a silver-haired figure by his side.
From their very first meeting at the Jian family villa—where that arrogant and pompous beast reluctantly ate the wonton noodles Jian Yunlan handed him—to all the countless times they set up the stall together, through wind and rain… Whether it was the bustling city center, the entrance of a residential block, eating hotpot in the snow until they fell asleep, or turning into children and going on adventures, or cramming together onto a narrow cot in a cramped doomsday base…
So many moments—even ones Jian Yunlan himself couldn’t recall clearly—came rushing back now as if they’d just happened yesterday.
So then… what if Taotie got lost?
“…I’d look for you.”
“No matter how many times, no matter how many years, no matter how many parallel worlds, how many shifts in time and space—I’d search.”
“Lord Taotie, I can’t afford to lose you.”
As Jian Yunlan spoke, he couldn’t help but smile, his eyes curving gently.
With both hands raised high, soaked through and disheveled by the rain, he still said these words. He felt a little embarrassed himself, two small dimples blooming on his cheeks.
The rain continued to pour in torrents. The sky kept pressing lower. The doomsday flames still burned at the edges of the world.
Taotie had tried, at first, to keep a straight face, to maintain his usual serious and composed appearance. But after a long moment, he couldn’t help it—he laughed.
Jian Yunlan stared, stunned.
—In all this time, it was the first time he had seen that kind of smile on Taotie’s face.
That joyful, unrestrained, almost childlike smile—tinged with a bit of awkwardness, but pure and bright, as if it came straight from the heart. He laughed for a long while before catching his breath, then cheekily muttered:
“You said it. It’s a promise. You’re not allowed to go back on it.”
“I won’t,” Jian Yunlan replied seriously, nodding. Then he stuck out his pinky. “Pinky swear?”
Taotie held out his hand too.
In the dim light of the storm and the flickering fire, the two of them leaned forehead to forehead, breath mingling, so close that it almost became a kiss—but their lips never quite touched.
Yet their hands were clasped tightly.
“Pinky swear. One hundred years. No backing out…”
“One hundred years? That’s way too short! Us Taotie can live tens of millions of years.”
“Then ten million years?”
“Mm.”
“Ten million years.”
*
Heaven and earth were about to merge.
Many people had already lain down, eyes closed—but they could still feel the crushing pressure pressing in from above, like being buried alive beneath the soil. Still breathing, still conscious, yet utterly helpless. All they could do was wait as the last of the air was squeezed away, as the massive coffin lid slowly descended.
“A-Are we going to die…?”
“Seems like it…”
Someone reached out, trembling, to tightly grasp the hand of a loved one.
Someone clenched their jaw, silently praying for it all to end quickly.
They were all so, so young.
There were so many things still left unfinished, so many dreams unfulfilled, so many distant places never reached—but the shadow of death had fully descended. No one could escape its blade.
Contrary to what many might expect, in the final moments of the world’s end, there wasn’t chaos, or noise, or screaming. When one stood at the very heart of the storm, what they felt most was—
Silence.
As if all the wind and rain had been sealed outside. Like the second just before water reaches a boil, when everything—time itself—comes to a pause.
A silence so empty it was suffocating.
And when that silence spread, everyone shut their eyes, waiting for the end to arrive.
“Open Heaven and Earth.”
A voice rang out—no one knew whose—low and unhurried, like a chant from an ancient incantation.
If someone possessed an enhanced hearing ability, they might’ve detected an anomaly in that stillness: the bloodthirsty hum of an ancient divine weapon, the piercing screech of a sharp halberd cleaving the air, the deafening crack of heaven and earth splitting apart.
…Until—an earth-shattering boom.
Everyone trembled at the sound.
“BOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!”
Accompanying that tremendous explosion came a cataclysmic tremor, as if the very heavens and earth were being torn open. Countless shards of rock and sand, swept along by the rain, crashed downward. The ground beneath them quaked, and the blood-red sky trembled as well—but…
It no longer continued its descent.
Soon, even the downpour that had been washing over everything ceased.
After a brief silence, Murong Miao, trembling all over, slowly opened her eyes and looked toward the sky—
The sky that just moments ago had been pressing down like the lid of a coffin, nearly upon them, had now been split in two by a blinding beam of light. Countless rotting chunks of flesh and limbs, the remnants of the apocalyptic heavens, were vaporized the instant they broke free from the sky, disintegrating into mist.
At the far end of the sundered heavens and earth—was tranquil night.
And a lone figure.
“…A person?” Murong Miao couldn’t help but rub her eyes, thinking she was seeing things.
But as a perception-enhanced mercenary, her vision had always been among the best. Even in the middle of such chaos, she saw the figure clearly:
Bathed in snowy moonlight, the silhouette stood tall and solitary, with a sharp and imposing air. Long silver hair tied back in a ponytail, clad in battle armor, holding a long halberd in one hand. Beads of blood trickled down the tip of the weapon, dripping to the ground.
A beam of light shone down on him, as if from outside the universe itself, straight and unwavering—like a summons.
In his arms, he seemed to be holding someone.
He gently placed that person down, then leaned over to softly touch their cheek, as if reluctant to part, lingering just a moment longer.
But in the end, he turned and walked away, stepping into the beam of light.
“……”
To cleave Heaven and Earth—was the deepest taboo of the Greed, Rage, Obsession, and Delusion Halberd.
It was a technique that could rewrite the laws of all creation. When an ancient beast offered itself as the sacrifice and broke its vow, the halberd would unleash its full power and strike with divine force.
But it wasn’t meant to kill.
“All these years, you’re the first Taotie to use ‘Cleave Heaven and Earth’ to save someone,” came the drifting voice of the Heavenly Dao. Ethereal and detached, its words echoed like ancient sutras, “You understand the consequences of doing this, don’t you?”
“I do.” Taotie frowned with irritation. “Spare me the nonsense.”
“Still as bad-tempered as ever. As expected of a Taotie.”
The Heavenly Dao chuckled lazily.
And then, just as Taotie had commanded, it finally stopped speaking.
The radiant light surrounding Taotie suddenly contracted.
