Abyss, Command Tower Top Floor.

  The hall, originally filled with slaughter and roaring, suddenly became extremely eerie in this instant.

  The controlled Spirit slaves, who were raising their mining picks to smash the Slayer's helmet, froze in mid-air, their weapons drooping weakly. Their eyes, originally flashing with demonically strange purple light, now became blank, empty, and even held a trace of... confusion.

  Because in their brains, and in the Thousand-Eyed Tyrant's psychic network, a grand, solemn, and philosophical voice was echoing.

  It wasn't ordinary chanting.

  It was the "Tao Te Ching Remix" processed by Singularity using "Binary Translation Technology," capable of acting directly on the underlying logic of biological beings.

  "The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the eternal name..."

  The voice started soft, as if coming from the distant horizon.

  But in just a few seconds, it became a great bell, deafening.

  The thousands of eyes of the Thousand-Eyed Tyrant were staring wide, bloodshot.

  It was a demon born based on the logic of absolute control and absolute obedience. Its worldview was linear: the strong dominate the weak, the master controls the slave. 0 is 0, 1 is 1.

  But now, this voice was telling it:

  "The Nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth; the Named is the mother of ten thousand things..."

  "Ever desireless, one can see the mystery; ever desiring, one can see the manifestations..."

  "Named" and "Nameless"?

  "0" and "1"?

  In the Tyrant's massive psychic core, which was like a supercomputer, these originally clear concepts began to blur, overlap, and even... swap.

  In the Netherworld Control Room, Singularity's hands danced across the keyboard like a pianist, transforming these verses into the most destructive logic viruses.

  "Watch closely, old thing! This is a Dimensional Strike of Eastern Philosophy!"

  "You say your control is absolute (1)? Then I'll tell you, absolute is void (0)!"

  "When the world knows beauty as beauty, ugliness arises. When it knows good as good, evil arises."

  Code Injection:

  [If Beauty == Beauty Then Evil = True]

  [If Good == Good Then Not-Good = True]

  The Tyrant's logic processor overloaded instantly.

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  "Wha... What is this hellish stuff?!" The Tyrant roared in despair within the psychic network. "Why is beauty evil? Why is good not good? This is illogical! This violates the protocol!"

  "Being and non-being produce each other; difficulty and ease complete each other; long and short define each other; high and low incline toward each other..."

  More dialectical logic surged in like a tsunami.

  In the Tyrant's cognition, high is high, low is low. How can they incline toward each other? How can they transform?

  This was like telling a computer: 0 equals 1, and 1 equals 0.

  Logic Deadlock.

  The Tyrant's psychic tentacles began to knot frantically. It tried to control the Spirits to attack the Slayer, but the command sent out turned into "Attack = Protect," "Slaughter = Redemption."

  The weapons in the Spirits' hands fell to the ground.

  Some Spirits began to hold their heads and cry because they felt the sprout of free will for the first time in this logical conflict.

  Some Spirits began to spin in circles because their motor nerves didn't know who to listen to.

  The most miserable one was the Tyrant itself.

  Its thousands of eyes began to roll uncontrollably. The vision of the left eye overlapped with the right, the signal from the upper eye transmitted to the lower eye. The whole world became a twisted mosaic in its eyes.

  "No... Stop... Make it stop..."

  The Tyrant's body began to swell, huge bubbles bulging under its skin—flesh mutation caused by the loss of psychic control.

  It tried to cut off contact with the outside world.

  But that voice permeated everything.

  "Reversal is the movement of the Tao; weakness is the use of the Tao..."

  Singularity felt it wasn't strong enough. He pressed a few more buttons, mixing in the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva's deliverance scriptures.

  "Om! Mani! Padme! Hum!"

  The Six-Syllable Mantra was like six golden sledgehammers, smashing ruthlessly onto the Tyrant's already fragile logic core.

  If the "Tao Te Ching" caused a Blue Screen of Death in its system.

  Then this mantra was pulling the power cord directly.

  "AHHHHHHHH————!!!"

  The Tyrant let out one last miserable scream.

  *Splat! Splat! Splat!*

  The eyes on its body began to burst one after another. Purple pus and blood splattered—the manifestation of a total psychic collapse.

  The psychic tentacles connecting the Spirit slaves snapped inch by inch like spider webs burned by fire.

  Control released.

  The hall fell into a deathly silence.

  Only that grand voice was still echoing:

  "...Ten thousand things in the world are born from Being, and Being is born from Non-being."

  The Slayer stood in the center of the crowd.

  He was unaffected (because he didn't think about these philosophical questions at all; his logic was simple: Kill).

  He looked at the Spirits around him.

  The purple light in their eyes faded, replaced by clear black pupils filled with tears.

  They were like waking up from a nightmare.

  They looked at the mining picks in their hands, at the green figure like a Demon God before them, and at the flesh ball spraying blood in mid-air.

  Fear vanished.

  Confusion vanished.

  Replacing it was a kind of... anger that had been suppressed for too long and finally found an outlet.

  The corner of the Slayer's mouth (under the faceplate) moved slightly.

  He retracted his defensive stance.

  He turned around, facing the half-crippled Thousand-Eyed Tyrant.

  He didn't strike.

  He simply handed the chainsaw in his hand to the Spirit miner closest to him.

  The miner froze, taking the heavy, still-growling weapon with trembling hands.

  The Slayer pointed at the Tyrant.

  The meaning was clear:

  *Go.*

  *It's yours.*

  ...

  Netherworld Control Room.

  Singularity watched the scene on the screen, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and glanced at the prompt box displaying [Merit Points +9999].

  "Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva above, although this disciple didn't chant the scriptures personally, this counts as... Physical Deliverance, right?"

  "However..."

  Singularity looked at the Spirits whose eyes were gradually turning from confusion to fanaticism.

  "These guys have been suppressed for so long; once they explode..."

  *Next Chapter: Slave Uprising. The Slayer doesn't even need to lift a finger; he just needs to... hand them the knife.*