Douluo: Transforming Xiao Wu into a Zerg Queen Was Just the Beginning-Chapter 98 - 99 – The Eerie Saint Soul Village

A scruffy, middle-aged man slowly stepped into the quiet village of Saint Soul.

Draped in a pitch-black cloak, his face was mostly hidden—only the lower half visible beneath the shadow of his hood.

A heavy, ancient aura clung to him.

He stood at the village entrance, lowering his head to observe the purplish-black grass beneath his feet.

After a brief silence, he slowly lifted his head, eyes focusing on a nearby villager who was repeating the same action over and over in a mechanical, mindless manner out in the fields.

There was a subtle flicker in his expression, but the man remained silent, his gaze sweeping across the eerie stillness of the village.

Then he began striding forward.

Each step he took caused the dark purple grass beneath him to sink slightly, as though his very presence distorted the ground.

All around him, villagers halted for a moment—their bodies trembling—but they continued their repetitive tasks. Yet their bloodshot eyes, filled with scarlet veins, snapped toward him in unison, unblinking, locked on his every move.

He walked on, seemingly unfazed by the disturbing sight.

One villager, trimming branches outside his home, had his eyes rotate 180 degrees within their sockets as the man passed. Even after he walked by, the villager's gaze remained fixated on him, twisted to an unnatural angle.

Eventually, the man walked so far ahead that the villager's eyeballs rotated to their limits... and then snapped all the way to the back of his head.

The whites of his eyes, once anchored by blood vessels and tissue, popped outward grotesquely, still following the cloaked man's every step.

Rivulets of purplish-black blood-tears streamed down the villager's face, yet he showed no sign of pain—his hands continued their dull, mechanical labor.

Blood dripped steadily from his pale face.

His now-hollow eye sockets bulged with two pulsating, blood-red flesh orbs, the capillaries writhing on their surface, releasing faint trails of steaming body heat.

Plop.

The eyes finally rolled out, landing on the ground with a soft thud, bouncing a few times.

Even so, the villager remained motionless, soulless sockets still fixed in the direction of the cloaked man.

At last, the man reacted.

He stopped cold, his cloaked body trembling slightly.

Though his face remained hidden, a powerful, invisible pressure radiated from him.

The grass beneath his feet cracked open into a crater under the force of his aura.

He took a deep breath and resumed walking deeper into the village—toward the home of Elder Jack, the village chief.

"Old Jack..."

Splurt!

As he moved away, the villager—still performing his labor—suddenly convulsed violently. His head burst like an overripe melon, brains and blood spraying outward.

The body rapidly withered, collapsing onto the ground like a deflated husk.

Splurt! Splurt!

Every villager he passed followed the same horrific pattern. Heads bursting. Bodies withering and dropping like ragdolls.

But those ahead of him paid no mind to the carnage behind, continuing their tasks with twisted smiles and bloodshot stares, as if to greet him.

Behind him...

The desiccated corpses suddenly began to twitch and writhe.

Chik chik chik—

From the stump of each neck, a one-inch-long crimson worm slowly wriggled out and burrowed into the dark, tainted soil.

The man ahead noticed none of this.

Plop. Plop.

The closer he got to Elder Jack's house, the more his cold, emotionless face began to contort with twitching nerves.

A little girl in a pink blouse sat in front of the elder's home, back turned to the man, playing quietly with a puppet in her hands.

Though she faced away, the man felt an intense gaze fixed on him.

He swallowed hard, opened his mouth, and finally spoke.

"Xiao Huanhuan... Where's your grandfather?"

His voice was hoarse and subdued, filled with a strange mix of anticipation, dread, and despair.

Silence.

Dead silence.

The girl gave no response, continuing to fiddle with her puppet.

But to the man's eyes, the puppet had long since fallen apart—nothing remained but a broken, withered arm, which she was rubbing endlessly against the ground.

A deep chill clawed up the man's spine.

He stood silently behind her, unable to speak again. His gaze was full of inner torment.

Creak, creak—

The twisted sound of the puppet's remains scraping the ground echoed through the still air, like some haunting melody in an empty wasteland.

Creak... Creak—

The sound stopped.

The man knelt beside her, reaching out to take her hand.

What should have been the soft, warm hand of a child instead felt like a dry, brittle twig—no flesh, no warmth.

He stared blankly at her face.

The girl's pale expression revealed her eyes—no, not eyes. Two bloodied, mangled orbs dangled from her sockets, twitching as they tried to look at him.

"You monster... MONSTER!!!"

The man exploded in rage. Veins bulged on his forehead as his eyes turned crimson. Emotions long suppressed finally burst forth.

He raised his hand high, ready to strike—

But he froze mid-swing.

He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Creak.

The old wooden door to the house slowly opened, and the man stepped into the courtyard.

Outside the gate, another little girl leaned silently against the wall, eyes tightly shut as if peacefully asleep, a gentle smile on her lips.

Then—suddenly—her chest erupted with blood.

A crimson worm drilled its way out, wriggling into the purplish-black soil.

Her body swayed slightly... then slowly collapsed, consumed by the red glow of the setting sun.

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