Forty Millenniums of Cultivation

Today was the day of the bonus.

The style may be different from the main story. Please understand and prepare yourselves, brothers and sisters.

As mentioned before, the additional chapters were sorted in chronological order. The first chapter told the story of a certain someone billions of years ago, after the nuclear war and before the arrival of the meteoroids. It was named 'Skinned Mouse'.

The length is relatively long. I hope everyone likes it.

If a friend is willing to write their own story under the framework of the "Four Universities of Cultivation", they can also fill in some of the details. Please let go of yourself and do whatever you want. As long as you are willing, Old Cow can also post it and everyone can share it together.

Alright, let's cut the nonsense and start a new journey.

—

Billions of years ago, on the Origin Planet, the End Era.

A war.

The war almost changed everything.

But it could not change who started the war.

…

The city was like a rotten corpse. The broken walls were like its broken bones. The broken roads were twisted veins and nerves. The walking dead that might or might not have been dead were the maggots that lived on the dead bodies of the city.

The boy felt that the rusted chains were deeply embedded in his ankles. Together with the upside-down and upside-down situation, he could barely feel his feet.

But his brain was expanding so much that his bloodshot eyes were about to explode.

Through the interconnecting blood streaks, he could see that the sunlight was struggling in the thick clouds, overflowing the lackluster colors of the decaying bodies. The skyscrapers in the city that had not collapsed yet constituted a raging skyline, which made him realize why the city was named 'Tombstone Town'.

Cities were tombs. They were the souls of the dead living in the tombs. Or according to the natives, they were 'demons'.

His line of sight continued to fall. The twisted buildings that had yet to collapse had long been piled up into fortresses by the armor. One after another, deformed faces emerged from the pitch black shooting holes, watching with great interest as those people butchered him.

Further down were coldly shining spears on which all kinds of skulls and body parts had been stabbed. There were the most common double-headed bulls and mutated boars, as well as the expensive 'delicious food' such as the Heaven's Feet Snake and the Terror Chicken.

The boy even saw a hand hanging on an iron hook, placed in the middle by various kinds of meat.

It was a pitch-black hand that did not seem to have much flesh, much less much appetite.

But hands were hands after all. Both Tombstone Town and the people of the Furious Blood Wasteland believed that the meat contained special energy that could help them resist radiation, increase their strength, and bring them good luck.

Therefore, it was the most in demand item in the meat market. Very few cooked meat could be delivered to the meat market. Usually, the meat would be divided among the zombies, mobs, or 'demons'.

The boy's hands were fair and tender, like tofu or alfalfa. They even looked like the hands of an underground person. This was a heaven-sent good luck or bad luck.

To avoid trouble, he usually covered his hands with dirty bandages and gloves.

But right now, his hands had been exposed to countless greedy and sordid eyes. Some of them were even drooling.

The boy felt sick. He wanted to throw up, but unfortunately, he had been beaten into a corner.

The boy's eyes continued to fall. This time, he saw the butcher, who was as strong as a mountain of meat, grinding the meat cleaver with a smile. When the cleaver was done, he even stuck out his half-meter long tongue to test the sharpness.

When the butcher discovered that the boy was looking at him, the smile on his face intensified. He even winked at the boy and made a face.

The boy retched again. His eyes fell to the ground.

The ground of Tombstone or any other town in this world was always the same. It was thick, stinky, and seemed to be piled up by a thick layer of humus. Suspicious wastewater and stains were everywhere. Occasionally, when the sunlight tore apart the clouds and dust and poured them to the ground like magma, the earth would be immediately set on fire, and colorful venomous fog would be raised. Once they were exposed to the venomous fog, even the soldiers or the bandits who had undergone genetic modification would feel dizzy, lose their functions, and even die on the spot.

However, the mice and cockroaches continued to survive in this rotten world. They were like fish in water, reproducing in large numbers and showing signs of replacing human beings.

The boy saw a fat, big mouse crawling out of the sticky, dark gutter and crawling towards a piece of meat that had "accidentally" fallen to the ground.

It was very vigilant. Knowing that the crazily excited giants nearby were creatures even more cruel and cunning than itself, it hesitated for a long time to make sure that nobody was paying attention to it before it lunged at the minced meat like a lightning.

Then, with a 'swoosh', a fishing line that was as thin as hair and controlled by a spring tied up one of its legs and tossed it into the air. Then, the butcher rolled it up with his tongue and slapped it on the chopping board.

The butcher had finished sharpening his butcher's knife. He could use this bastard to test his knife. His seemingly clumsy pair of hands sprayed out a sheet of white light. In a short amount of time, he had peeled off the skin of this fat and large mouse and hung it on an iron hook. At this time, the mouse was still not completely dead. Its tail was twitching, and its pair of lackluster eyes met with the boy's.

"Poor animals."

The boy thought to himself, There is no such thing as an 'unintentional drop' in the world.

Then, he smiled bitterly in his heart.

Wasn't his experience exactly the same as the skinning mouse's?

As the appetizer before the main course, the Skinned Mouse was soon bought by someone at the price of five scrapped cell phones. Mouse meat was one of the few fresh meat that the devil race could eat nowadays, not to mention that they were being skinned alive on the spot. The price was indeed not high. The customer held the meat in his hands and beamed with joy. He started gnawing on the meat on the spot with cracking sounds, which even made the customers salivate.

Perhaps, it was also for the purpose of advertising and telling everyone that the delicious meat had arrived. That was why they were selling the living skinning mice at such a cheap price.

"Boss, it's time to cut the meat!"

"Hurry up! I can't wait any longer!"

"Such good meat is worth any price. Tell me, how much are you selling it for?"

The boy heard the howls of the devils.

He saw faces that were either rotten, swollen, covered in leeches, or had three to five eyes that had undergone genetic mutations because of radiation. Cruelness and greed were written all over their faces.

The butcher picked up the boy and threw him to the chopping board where the skinning mice had been skinned.

The butcher stuck out his tongue and licked Li Yao's face, spraying hot streams of gastric acid at him. He chuckled and said, "Don't move. It doesn't hurt. Uncle's skills are very good. I guarantee that the blood will be drained clean."

The boy didn't move.

He did not cry.

Like everyone else in this era, his tears had dried up the moment he was born. He had long forgotten the feeling of crying.

The butcher patted his face with the snow-white butcher knife, patted his chest, and shouted to the impatient customers, "Come on! Come on! Top-grade meat! Top-grade meat! Look at this face! Look at this pair of hands! No horns! No leeches! No rot! No cysts! Not even a trace of mutation! This meat is even more delicious than the meat of the underground world!

"The delicious meat is so delicious that even the gods can't stand on their feet. One piece of such delicious meat is enough to cure all kinds of diseases. You can even enter and exit the third-degree radiation zone freely. Come on, bid! Nice meat! Nice meat that is fair and tender!"

The boy saw that more and more people were gathering in the meat market. More than half of the devils in Tombstone Town were crowding close. The sounds of their saliva congregated into an ocean of acid.

The dirty eyes were emitting dirty brilliance, but they scared him even more than the butcher's knife did. He closed his eyes and asked his brother for help.

"Brother, save me."

The boy said.

"Don't be scared, Little Lu. Don't be scared."

The older brother said, "Tell this butcher that you absolutely won't run away. You're so small, and there are so many people here. It's impossible for you to run away. So, can he let go of the chains on your feet? This way, your blood will flow faster, and the clotted blood won't remain in your feet. It's also more delicious. You can call him 'Uncle'. Your feet can be sold at a higher price. He will definitely agree."

"Then, you have to listen carefully. This brother won't say these words a second time. Then, this brother will kill everyone in the meat market. This will buy you approximately five to ten minutes of time. You need to immediately find a military backpack… Do you see the camouflage baldy over there? Use his backpack to fill the meat in the meat market. Then, take the third hair-streaked shotgun on the right and the fifth three-eyed handgun. Remember, don't forget the bullets. Run to the left. Run to the 'Old John's Car Company' and get a modified car that is suitable for long-distance running in the desert. The day before yesterday, the 'Nigger Gang' happened to have a very good one. It was modified at Old John's place. Today, it should have been modified. Hopefully, it hasn't been transported away yet. All of this needs to be done in ten minutes, no, seven minutes. Otherwise, the remaining half of the people in Tombstone Town will catch up. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

The boy nodded silently and stammered, "But—but I don't know how to drive. What should I do?"

"It doesn't matter. It's very simple. Haven't we seen it several times at Old John's place? I should be able to."

His brother said, "But… killing everyone here will consume too much of my strength… I might be able to… Anyway, I'll drive the shuttle in the beginning, but you must learn it quickly. You'll have to walk on your own later!"

"What?"

The boy was shocked. He felt that he had missed a step and had no one to rely on. He was even more scared than when he was tied up and sent to the chopping block. "Brother, what are you talking about? We were together when we were born. Don't leave me. I can't do it alone!"

"You can do it. In fact, you always can. Your potential is far higher than mine, but you haven't discovered it yet.

His brother said, "Anyway, don't think too much about it. Just beg the butcher to let go of your feet first. Remember, speak in a pitiful and helpless tone. Right now, your pity is our greatest weapon."

The boy swallowed hard and looked at the butcher pitifully.

At this moment, the butcher had already raised his butcher's knife high. There was no telling whether he was showing off his saber art or he was really going to chop off the butcher's knife.

The boy's mind went blank. His throat seemed to be blocked by frozen blood. He could not utter a single word.

"Speak, quickly speak!"

His brother said.

"Fragrant meat! Excellent meat! It's a fair price!"

The butcher said.

"Hurry up and do it! What are you dragging your feet for? Chip, bullets, gasoline, engines, body armor, sniper rifles, and even armored vehicles. Just tell me what price you want. I can afford it!"

The customers who looked neither human nor ghost said.

"Hehehehehe! Hehehehehehe! Hahahaha!"

The wind that entangled Tombstone Town, savaged the entire Wasteland, and was mixed with radiation dust and a rotten smell.

"I…"

The boy stammered. His voice was hoarse. He could not hear what he was saying at all amid the hysterical screams of the customers.

However, another high-pitched, viper-like voice was a hundred times louder than his. It was like a bucket of cold water that had been poured on a heated meat market.

The boy saw that a very damp hand had grabbed the butcher's knife, which was about to fall, and the butcher's posterity bag, which made his face extremely ugly.

It was ugly, if not terrifying.

Then, the boy heard the owner of the damp hands say lazily in an even wetter voice, "This is my sheep. Who says I'm selling it?"