Chapter 100: Jingliu on the Verge of a Mental Breakdown

World War III had begun.

Soon, the entire planet was engulfed in flames as nations large and small joined the fray. Led by Phantylia, they began deploying inhumane weapons without restraint.

From space, the planet was a hellscape of burning lights and towering mushroom clouds—an apocalyptic vision.

Phantylia stood by the window, watching the city outside drown in smoke, fire, and fleeing crowds. On the horizon, a massive mushroom cloud rose ominously.

As the instigator of the war, the nation she controlled faced the fiercest retaliation. Even the capital was not spared.

But Phantylia didn't care. She wanted to see civilizations tear themselves apart, to watch beliefs crumble—all to vent her swelling desire for destruction.

Yet, the scenes that once thrilled her now felt dull.

After all, the civilizations that caught the attention of a Lord of Destruction were at least nascent interstellar societies.

At that level, war was just mutual bombardment, with weapons of mass destruction thrown around indiscriminately.

She was a Lord of Destruction, not a Lord of Explosions. No matter how spectacular the blasts, they grew tedious after a while.

But meddling with pre-spaceflight civilizations—or even those still in the age of cold steel—was less effective.

It wasn't that her abilities were lacking, but the limitations of their technology—slow information dissemination, sluggish troop movement—meant inciting internal strife took far longer. Worse, their primitive logistics made global-scale wars nearly impossible.

Whether out of novelty or something else, Phantylia suddenly found these ants squabbling far less thrilling than what that man had given her.

Especially the last time—when he had ravaged her mercilessly, leaving her body trembling in the aftershocks of ecstasy, her veins still humming with his essence… only for him to snap her neck without hesitation.

She realized her hand had unconsciously drifted to her smooth abdomen, as if her body was reliving the memory of that violation.

"Bastard! Damn him!"

Enraged, Phantylia unleashed an inferno that swallowed the capital, then the entire planet.

Only after this cataclysmic venting did her fury subside slightly.

And with it, her intentions shifted.

Burning him to death would be too merciful. Death is a kindness he doesn't deserve. I'll capture him, sear off his limbs, and turn him into my plaything!

Ah yes… the next target is the Xianzhou Luofu, isn't it?

Her eyes gleamed dangerously.

She remembered clearly—that damned man was from the Xianzhou Alliance. The memories didn't align with history, but he had to be connected to them.

She could hardly wait for the operation to begin.

Meanwhile, Jingliu awoke from another "nightmare."

Her mind felt split in two.

New memories flooded her consciousness—half filled with hatred and rage toward that man, the other half aching with longing.

The memories of hatred drove her to madness; the sweet ones soothed her.

If this continued, she would likely develop schizophrenia.

But here was the problem: some symptoms of Mara—like drastic personality shifts, cruelty, and bloodlust—already resembled schizophrenia.

What would happen if Mara met schizophrenia?

Jingliu clutched her head, one hand pressed to her eye, the other gripping the bedsheet. Despite her efforts to suppress it, pained whimpers escaped her lips.

Only after a long while did the torment fade.

As the splitting headache receded, Jingliu frowned, deep in thought.

Suddenly, as if noticing something amiss, she bolted upright and rushed to the mirror, leaning close to scrutinize her reflection.

Her face was as beautiful as ever—only damp with sweat, slightly disheveled, but otherwise normal.

Jingliu braced her hands on the desk, staring intently.

Then, a strange realization dawned.

Hesitating briefly, she closed her eyes and deliberately recalled memories of her time with that man.

Countless moments of joy and warmth flowed through her, thawing her long-frozen heart.

When she reopened her eyes, her crimson irises had turned ice-blue.

The temperature around her plummeted, frost creeping outward from her feet.

Jingliu took a deep breath and closed her eyes again.

This time, she summoned the memories that disgusted and enraged her.

Like a volcanic eruption, fury roared to life within her.

Before she could even open her eyes, a terrifying, frenzied bloodlust erupted from her.

When she did, her eyes burned red once more, glowing faintly in the dark.

Just as she teetered on the edge of losing control, Jingliu severed the memories and forced herself to calm down, relying on happier recollections to pull herself back.

After a moment's hesitation, she quickly donned her armor and left her temporary dwelling.

Her next destination: a planet overrun by Abundance abominations—perfect for testing her blade.

The results were telling.

When she focused on blissful memories, she entered a unique state—eyes blue, mind razor-sharp, her ice-based abilities significantly enhanced.

But when she dwelled on rage, her Mara worsened, boosting her physical prowess and regeneration at the cost of rationality. In this state, she became a indiscriminate berserker.

One state was akin to a spellblade, the other a frenzy-fueled warrior. Both vastly strengthened her, aiding her plans immensely.

Yet Jingliu felt no joy.

Good or bad, everything tied back to that man—Solon. Theirs was a cursed entanglement.

And it only hardened her resolve to find him.

This time, she would live selfishly—see him first, then decide his fate based on her true feelings.

To kill or spare him? She'd follow her heart.

If Solon knew her thoughts, he'd probably "thank" her very thoroughly for them.