Countless people were directly hit by the blazing iron fist and vaporized in an instant, leaving not even ashes behind.
Others were swallowed up by the air waves and indirectly became part of the air waves, turning the billowing air waves into squirming and expanding beasts that continued to expand outward.
Even the earth was blasted open by meteors and fire showers, revealing cracks that reached the center of the earth.
What surged in the deepest part of the cracks was not the demonic fire of hell, but a turbulent data flow like a whirlpool.
The camouflage of this world is peeling off inch by inch, revealing its virtual nature.
The torrent of data is like a volcanic eruption, shooting out from the endless abyss and rushing towards people with claws and teeth.
All people touched by the torrent of data were shattered into pieces, turned into countless crystal clear blue numbers, and then fell apart and were completely annihilated.
If we were to be smashed to death, burned to death and torn apart by meteors and fire showers falling from the sky, we would still be able to understand it to the poor virtual people.
Then, the disguise is torn off and the pitiful nature of the data is exposed.
Then all the data is cleared, deleted, and returned to its original state - this is the ultimate horror that no virtual person can understand.
Someone finally reacted and let out a cry of despair.
Seeing the Creator exerting such devastating power, some mechanical and steam cultists suffered mental breakdown and repented.
They knelt on the ground weeping bitterly and worshiped the boxing champion, not to spare their lives, but to beg the true God for forgiveness, who could listen to their dying confession and purify their sinful souls.
Some of the loyal believers in the Fist Temple also suffered from mental breakdown.
They stared dumbly at the indiscriminate massacre and did not understand what happened.
The arrival of the true god is certainly the most sacred moment of glory, but why does the true god not distinguish between ourselves and the enemy?
Are we going to throw them, the faithful lambs, into hell together with the pagans?
"God of Boxing, I praise you, I surrender to you, I am your most loyal slave!"
Some Iron Fist soldiers went crazy and shouted at the boxing champion.
Then he was smashed to pieces by a meteor iron fist.
"O Most High, Most Benevolent Creator, I am your Lamb, I am your slave, I am the projection of your will, I am your most insignificant creation, your will must make sense, if you want to purify This world, this world will be finally redeemed."
There were also some priests of the Boxing Temple who suddenly understood the intention of the boxing champion.
They no longer resisted and sat cross-legged in a pool of blood, with their eyes lowered and muttering, waiting, and soon the destruction came.
"Come on!
False God!"
Naturally, the most die-hard mechanical and steam cultists were also indispensable, and they never even frowned when faced with the shower of meteors and fire that filled the sky.
Under the majestic momentum of the boxing champion, they still gritted their teeth and straightened their backs, brandishing steam guns and roaring towards the sky, "Although you destroy us, you can never defeat us and win our surrender.
Come on, let us fight to the death!"
" They burned the boiler red, stirred up the most powerful steam, and shot the last projectile into the sky.
Then, they were greeted by a hundred times the number of meteors and fire, and died laughing amid the bombardment of flames and iron fists.
Soon, even the sky cracked like the bottom of a boiled pot.
Cracks crisscrossed the sky, and pieces of the sky peeled off, revealing mysterious and complex data outside the sky.
The large group of data seems to be a living thing with life, beating like crazy, but it keeps returning to zero.
When each string of data is reset to zero, the whole world seems to become drab and dull.
From the original colorful and lifelike 64-bit true color, it gradually drops to 32-bit true color, 16-bit true color, 512 colors, and 256 colors. .
The world has lost its color.
After the special effects were turned off, the virtual people who had not been cleared were surprised to find that their hands and feet were no longer delicate, but rough and jagged.
They opened their mouths wide, wanting to shout, cry, pray, beg for mercy, roar, and say the last words to their loved ones before they died.
But the boxing champion is cutting off the voice and sound effects support of this virtual world.
The virtual people's throats are making "hissing" sounds, and they are unable to express their deep and true emotions.
Gus was also speechless.
His legs were broken by a meteor iron fist, and his entire lower body was covered in blood.
He could only drag the shocking blood marks as he crawled towards Gray.
"elder sister--" He wanted to shout, but all he heard was his own hoarse crying.
Gray, who was crushed by the wreckage of the steam cannon, could not respond to his cry.
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He just widened his eyes in confusion and gave his last smile to his brother.
"It's fine."
The boy seemed to hear his sister comforting him, "It's okay, we will see our parents soon." "..."
Gus gritted his teeth, endured the severe pain, jumped hard, and finally grabbed his sister's hand.
But I can't catch the passing temperature.
The young man was speechless, shed tears of blood, and stared blankly at the sky.
And the gods who stand above the sky, control life and death, control destiny, and can create and destroy everything.
"It shouldn't be like this."
Gus looked at the collapsing world and thought dreamily, "The truth shouldn't be like this, the world shouldn't be like this, and our destiny shouldn't be like this!"
He has never been as eager as at this moment to change his destiny, save his fellow humans, and even kill his own creator.
Gritting his teeth, the young man mustered up his last courage and strength, picked up the remains of the steam cannon, endured the severe pain, and stood up.
The shattered legs poked out broken bones and were embedded in a pool of blood, causing severe pain that was worse than death.
But the severe pain stimulated the young man's soul to burst into flames.
He waved his immature fists, imitated the fanaticism of the Steam Cultists, and roared crazily towards the sky.
"Come on, boxing champion, you can destroy me, but you can never defeat me.
Come on, let's fight to the death!"
Gus soon got what he wanted.
He was blown away by the air wave again and fell to the ground like a piece of garbage.
His bones burst and his internal organs were shattered.
The young man can feel the passage of life.
I'm afraid there are only thirty or fifty seconds left before all data is cleared.
But he was laughing.
At least, at the end of his destiny, for thirty or fifty seconds, he got rid of the constraints and manipulations of the creator, lived according to his own will, and died as a human being.
That's enough, right?
"Gus!
Gus!"
Suddenly, the dying young man heard urgent shouts in a trance.
"Lu Qingchen?"
The eyes that gradually closed suddenly widened.
Gus turned his head and saw the divided demon, which was suppressed not far away by the boxing champion.
It was like a dead but not stiff little insect, struggling to squirm towards him.
"Gus, he is too powerful.
You can't beat him, and I can't beat him.
There is only one way left.
There is still hope!"
Lu Qingchen was also laughing, laughing extremely happily and decisively, with madness written all over his ugly face.
The demon stretched out its bloody arm, and spewed out wisps of the most dazzling arcs from the deepest part of his soul, spreading toward the boy.
"Come on, this is my last power, the entire inheritance of lightning life.
Open your heart, accept it, become a new generation of lightning king, and then go create miracles, young man!"