Exorcist's Self-Cultivation

Atop the tower.

Black clouds drifted over in the blink of an eye.

The Vanity Sect had been utterly decimated.

Only Lord Ferran and three or four others lay scattered in pools of blood, their faces a blur of flesh and blood, their fates unknown.

All of their masks had been stripped away.

As for the rest, they had long since reached the end of their lives and had turned to ashes.

Whether fortunate or tragic, Lord Ferran was still alive, yet his body was frail and aging, teetering on the brink of death.

Here.

Alfaria roared, "Power, endless power!"

Eleven masks circled around him.

They converged to form a body, a body that was only lacking a head in order to be complete.

"This will be my new body."

Alfaria was on the verge of madness, his consciousness teetering between frenzy and calm.

"Just a bit more."

"Even with only eleven masks, it should be possible to construct an imperfect body, even if it is decaying, but I have no other choice."

Alfaria reached out, touching the edges of the mask on his face.

His only chance was to undergo Armored Divinity Ascension.

Putting his hopes on this, he hoped to truly become a Demon God and in so doing make the imperfect body perfect.

He gambled everything.

He gambled the entirety of the Vanity Church.

There was no turning back now.

Rip.

Blood gushed like the releasing waters of a dam's reservoir, as Alfaria tore off his own mask, peeling off his entire face with it.

His body immediately showed signs of aging.

But he was still clinging to a breath.

He had the strength to keep on forcibly.

This mask had been worn on his face for too long, and the accumulated power was terrifyingly formidable. Once torn off, it hovered into the air, intermingling with the remaining eleven masks.

Countless black threads, like tendrils of power, infused into the headless body.

Alfaria's eyes shone with desire.

Perhaps it was a miracle.

As his mask joined in, the body's head began to take shape.

"Even without the final mask, I can succeed!"

"I, Alfaria, who has spent hundreds of years, I cannot fail."

"I will become a Demon God, I will control the entire world."

Alfaria laughed excitedly.

The body's head had taken shape, its facial features brewing.

Surprisingly, it bore some resemblance to Du Wei.

Or rather.

The body that Alfaria had crafted was actually modeled after Du Wei, exactly matching his stature.

However.

At this moment.

A voice sounded from behind Alfaria.

"My servant, you have done well."

"The only pity is that the final mask lies with him, and I cannot change that outcome; otherwise, this body would have been even more perfect."

Black Du Wei, clapping his hands, emerged from the darkness.

A look of satisfaction was on his face.

But Alfaria's body shook, and he turned stiffly to look.

Upon seeing the appearance of Black Du Wei, he completely collapsed: "Your Excellency the Duke, how can you..."

Black Du Wei's brow furrowed slightly.

He said indifferently, "You should call me master, Alfaria."

Upon hearing this, Alfaria's body trembled.

As if instinctually, his legs began to bend, nearly bringing him to his knees.

"Impossible, you're supposed to be dead."

"How can you still be alive!"

Black Du Wei said coldly, "Foolishness, what gave you the courage to think I would die?"

Alfaria shook his head frantically: "Impossible, you can't be him, he has long been dead, I saw it with my own eyes."

Black Du Wei nodded, admitting frankly, "He did die, but that is not important, what is important is that I have now taken his place, taken everything of his from the past."

"His timeline has been safely occupied by me."

"In the past, the Mask Maker was me, the master of the Vanity Sect was me."

"I am the master of Carlos."

"I am the one you call His Excellency the Duke."

"Even this tower was constructed under my command,"

Alfaria burst into maniacal laughter, "Impossible, you are false; I cannot believe that the past could possibly be rewritten."

Black Du Wei did not deign to explain.

He merely found Alfaria's reaction extremely amusing.

Alfaria turned around and lunged at the body.

Upon seeing this, Black Du Wei,

expressed his disdain by shaking his head.

Whoosh...

The moment Alfaria touched the body, he ignited like a fireball and completely burst into flames.

"Aaahhh!"

He let out a cry of agony.

From his body to his soul, everything was burning.

"Why is this happening?"

"Why!"

"After so many years of scheming, could it all just be a trick?"

"Am I just a joke?"

"Master, why are you so cruel!"

Alfaria's voice eventually fell silent, and his entire being turned to ashes.

A gust of wind blew by.

The ashes did not even touch the body.

At this moment,

All twelve masks had vanished completely.

The new body, fully formed, emanated a decaying odor, and its face was blurred and indistinct.

After all, there was one mask missing.

How could the body he sought to construct be perfect?

Yet, Black Du Wei allowed himself a slight smile.

He reached out and grasped.

A ghastly white mask appeared in his hand.

The next second,

he stepped into that body.

Their silhouettes gradually merged.

The whole body trembled.

Yes...

As Black Du Wei had said, he had returned to the past and replaced everything that the Du Wei of that past timeline had done.

And he had prepared a body for himself as well.

The entire Vanity Sect was merely his chess piece.

Furthermore, he had left something in Carlos as well.

He was, moreover, a creation of a Demon God.

A derivation of the Demon God.

He was Black Du Wei, but also the Demon God.

That's why when Du Wei entered Hell's Gate and traveled to the Victorian Era, he always felt that timeline was a fiction.

Because his own timeline had truly become distorted.

"Now, the time, the place, and the people, all are on my side,"

Black Du Wei's voice was cold and sinister as he fitted the mask onto his face.

The face devoid of features became obscured by the mask,

looking exactly like Du Wei when he wore his mask before.

Not a single difference could be found.

If there had to be one, it was his presence, always with a sense of decay, like a corpse that had walked out of hell.

Ferocious and horrifying.

...

Elsewhere,

The battle between Evil Spirit Du Wei and Paimon was drawing to a close.

He was about to claim victory.

In that pale world, darkness had taken over ninety percent of the area.

Evil Spirit Du Wei's hand was clenching Paimon's throat, a Demon God who was conceptual in nature, and he was nearly killed in a conceptual manner.

Just then,

Evil Spirit Du Wei turned his head, gazing indifferently into the distance.

He saw Black Du Wei,

He saw the tower behind Black Du Wei,

And saw the Seventy-Two Pillars Demon Gods of Solomon.

At that moment, the world truly reached its end, or rather, its cyclical apex.