CHAPTER 501: CHAPTER 499 PLEASE CALL ME THE PIERCING EMPEROR_1

Gunfire and explosions were continuous. Bullets arched through the air, accompanied by the excited shouts of the army group. The quiet formation of the Shadow Legion was being breached step by step.

Nett’s breathing grew heavier. Watching this scene through the satellite brought back the kind of excitement he’d felt in his youth over certain risqué publications.

He gripped the armrest tightly, his withered hands trembling unconsciously.

The army group can’t achieve their goal that easily, Nett thought. What will the Emperor do next?

Through the military satellite, their perspective differed from that of the army group. They knew the number of the Shadow Emperor’s Legion had not diminished.

It was unclear whether the slain members of the Shadow Clan could be revived, or if the forces they were witnessing represented the maximum number of Shadow Clan members capable of reaching this world.

To confirm this speculation, they would have to see what the Emperor would do next.

With the frontline breached to this extent, thousands of Rocket Launchers were poised, ready to fire at the gate tower once in position.

Nett’s eyes widened as he speculated on the Emperor’s actions.

Meanwhile, Daco, in the midst of battle, felt an abnormal excitement. We’re getting closer! The distance between us and the Emperor is narrowing!

Daco had also moved from the center to a position closer to the frontlines. He discovered that under their concentrated firepower, the so-called Shadow Clan wasn’t so impressive after all.

After all, those creatures are still wielding medieval longspears; their technology is clearly far behind this world, Daco thought. How could they possibly match modern machine guns in a head-on confrontation? As long as firearms can kill them, no monster is truly to be feared.

Daco waved his right hand, buoyantly exclaiming, "All Rocket Launchers, target the Emperor on the gate tower! Let’s show him we’re not stingy, haha!"

The order was quickly passed down. The soldiers holding Rocket Launchers uniformly aimed their weapons at the gate tower.

In that instant, thousands of Rocket Launchers fired simultaneously. Firelight and smoke filled the air, their fiery trails blazing dazzling paths across the night sky, illuminating the entire battlefield like a Leonid meteor shower.

Aozawa swept his great sleeves.

A swath of utter darkness rolled up from the left side of the gate tower. It formed a crescent, like a moon-fang blast, slashing all incoming rockets to pieces.

BOOM! The deafening explosions merged into a single roar in the sky, the resulting fireworks obscuring Aozawa’s view of the ground below.

"Child’s play," Aozawa’s voice traveled far. "This ends now." He crouched down, slapping his right hand on the gate tower’s base.

The seemingly majestic gate tower crumbled like a breached dam, its structure collapsing downwards.

A rolling torrent of darkness engulfed all the Shadow Soldiers. Witnessing this, the smiles on the faces of the army group soldiers froze.

Was everything before just child’s play?! they wondered, horrified.

They looked terrified, frantically pulling their triggers, but were unable to prevent the dark tide from surging forward.

The Shadow Soldiers could be killed only because they possessed vulnerable heads. True Shadow, however, was immune to all firearms.

"AHHH!"

They screamed. Upon discovering their guns were ineffective, cold sweat broke out on their foreheads.

Just as they thought about fleeing, the darkness suddenly solidified before them.

Then, under Aozawa’s control, this mass of darkness swiftly surged a thousand meters into the air. It connected from all four sides, completely enveloping all the men of the army group.

"Black Coffin!"

Aozawa uttered the apt name. The rising dark walls extended from the four sides to the top, closing in, shielding them from the moonlight and the prying eyes of satellites.

Deprived of light, the darkness plunged everyone into blindness.

"What is this?!" Daco exclaimed in terror. Then, a familiar sensation arose from beneath him, reminiscent of his boyhood when the neighbor’s uncle first pinned him to the ground. An intensely unpleasant tingling, wrapped in sharp pain, shot to his head, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying into the sky.

Countless spikes shot up from the ground, mercilessly piercing the flesh of every soldier in the army group.

The moment the darkness faded, the images transmitted by the satellite made Nett and the military high command gasp, shocked by the Emperor’s brutality.

Under the moon, Shadow Spikes rose from the ground, forming a vast forest of spikes over a hundred meters tall, each tip impaling a person.

The intense pain made it impossible for them to hold their guns. Their American-made weapons rained down onto the ground.

The spikes, only as thick as bamboo, reached such heights, appearing eerily unnatural.

Aozawa stood on the ground, looking at the spectacular scene before him. This is a work of uncanny skill, a divinely crafted marvel, he mused. It’s a pity to enjoy such a grand spectacle all by myself.

Aozawa quickly used his Time-stopping skill. A gray-white filter enveloped the entire world.

The next second, he used Schrodinger’s Cat to appear directly in the National Palace of Mexico City.

He, the Shadow Emperor, condensed Shadow Soldier after Shadow Soldier.

In this world of stopped time, even the Shadow Soldiers he summoned could not move freely. However, they would be able to obey his command to take the people away the instant time resumed.

Then Aozawa left the National Palace. He also made a detour to a dive shop in Mexico City to "borrow" a respirator and an air tank.

The stench of blood at the scene later will be too overpowering, Aozawa thought. I can’t stand such smells. After all, I find even the fishy smell of a market unbearable. Let alone such a dense, overwhelming stench of blood. Besides, with Shadow covering my body, no one will notice I’m wearing a respirator and air tank.

After completing these tasks, less than nine seconds had passed. Aozawa returned to his original position.

As the nine seconds concluded, the gray-white filter faded from the world.

A thought flashed through his mind. Immediately, Shadow Soldiers swiftly bound everyone in the National Palace and brought them to him.

Darkness fell before Mance’s eyes. The bustling, prosperous world he knew vanished, and he found himself in a dimly lit, unfamiliar place.

Before him stood a high black platform. Upon it was a mysterious figure draped in a dark, flowing cloak that seemed like liquid shadow. A crown on his head affirmed his illustrious status.

A small canopy of Shadow sheltered him from above.

They stood on a black deck surrounding the high platform; even the railings at its edge were black.

Nine pitch-black Shadow Dragons pulled the structure before them, racing forward at incredible speed.

"AH!"

Sharp cries of terror could no longer be suppressed.

However, not a single person attempted to stop the women from screaming.

The men just stared blankly upward at the scene before them, unable to react even as their wine glasses slipped from their grasp.

Spikes pierced the sky, and pierced people, their limbs still struggling.

Shadow Crows swarmed the sky, pecking at their flesh.

"Ah, it hurts so much!" "Help me!" "Mom, I want to go home!"

The mournful night wind carried the wails of the army group.

Each soldier added their voice to the chorus. Nearly four hundred thousand men from the army group wailed in unison, their collective anguish drowning out all other sounds in the area.

Even if the women screamed themselves hoarse, their voices couldn’t carry more than three meters.

A torrent of blood rained down, splattering them, soiling their elegant attire and expensive jewelry. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and filled with ceaseless wails.

None of this resembled the world they knew. There was no champagne, no gourmet food, no gentle music... This was Hell!

Mance sat dumbstruck on the deck, his mouth agape. The falling blood instantly flooded his mouth. The metallic taste made him retch and spit it out. His eyes were so caked with blood he dared not open them, and waves of nausea forced him to vomit repeatedly.

His limbs were ice-cold, his heart trembling.

My head is buzzing... it feels like it’s going to split open! Mance thought, his mind reeling.

He couldn’t even control his basic bodily functions, wracked by uncontrollable vomiting.

The Nine Dragons pulled them swiftly forward.

A thick layer of fresh blood soon coated the Shadow structures, yet the spot where Aozawa stood remained utterly black.

He stood at the highest point, observing the scene before him. The noise had been overwhelming, so he had used Shadow to block his ears.

Only faint sounds now reached him. He watched the Dragon Car race through the tall forest of spikes, as a rain of blood fell from the sky.

He tilted his head back and could see the bright, starry sky, segmented by the towering Shadow Spikes.

Truly spectacular! Aozawa thought. If netizens saw this through a screen, they’d definitely praise the special effects.

The thought crossed Aozawa’s mind as he let the Dragon Car race on, its wheels churning through puddles of blood.

For tens of miles, from one end to the other, all screams and shouts had now ceased.

Those impaled no longer struggled. Their limbs hung limp, unresponsive even to the Shadow Crows pecking at their flesh.

Aozawa looked at the desert before him, then his gaze shifted downwards.

Everyone around the high platform was covered in blood, their original appearances indiscernible.

Yet their actions were nearly identical: they knelt towards the high platform, prostrating themselves like puppies cowering at their master’s feet.

After the initial terror and numbness, only submission remained. They feared the Emperor as they would Satan.

Only one person still stood there.

Even without seeing his face, I know that’s Nied, Aozawa realized.

The Shadow-formed earplugs vanished. Aozawa looked down from his high vantage point and asked, "What are your thoughts on this scene?"

Nied stared at the Emperor on the high platform. "I’d like to ask you that question. What are *your* thoughts on killing so many people?"

Aozawa asked curiously, "Do you sympathize with them?"

"No, not in the slightest," Nied replied, his gaze fixed on the Emperor. "They’re scum, Demons bred from corruption. Killing them isn’t the issue. But it should be done through a just trial, not vigilantism. Acting like this only validates their methods."

Nied, too, had initially been terrified by the spectacle. However, his convictions gradually restored his courage, allowing him to stand his ground.

He firmly believed that a country could only achieve true justice if governed correctly. Using wrongful methods, even if they yielded temporarily correct outcomes, would ultimately lead to a backlash.

Aozawa smiled. He naturally understood this principle; he simply didn’t care.

His gaze swept over the people prostrated on the ground. He spoke slowly, "From now on, he will be your president of Mexico. Does anyone disagree?"

"Your wish is our command, Your Majesty!" Mance roared, not daring to utter a single word of dissent.

The countless corpses still hung in the air.

"What you do from now on is your affair." Aozawa had no time or interest in gradually reforming a country. He turned to Nied. "I’ll send you back to reunite with your family first. As for the rest of you," he addressed the others, "you should know what to prepare."

"Your wish is our command, Your Majesty!" Mance and the others answered in unison.