Abyss Summoner

Chapter 533 - 521: Turmoil and Upheaval in a Chaotic World [2-in-1]

In the distance, three ships were sailing over. These were not ordinary wooden vessels; they were all made from the steel of a peaceful era, and thus, matched the might of Chen Feng and his group’s wooden boat.

The three ships together carried two or three hundred people, with the battleship in the middle being the largest, clearly playing some leading role.

"Chief, what a big fat fish!"

On the lead ship, a man pointed to the mutated humpback whale surfacing from the water, exclaiming in surprise.

Compared to the forces encountered before, these people could be described as elite. They were not in rags; most were well-dressed. However, their titles were somewhat peculiar, reminiscent of how ancient bandits addressed their leaders.

But that’s the way of the world—awakened abilities becoming a career, an experience like being catapulted to the top. Mind you, this favor from the heavens has no fixed boundaries: it could favor the chosen ones, the foolish, the ordinary, and even the abnormal are all within this gracious scope.

Normal people have the ability to think, naturally avoiding and judging, but for the abnormal, the so-called rules cannot bind them.

During times of peace, those with mental disorders often drew their knives over a slight upset; though casualty-free on empty streets, in a subway station or bustling area, one person could take dozens of lives.

Beasts are frightening because they have no wisdom, only pure instinct, treating killing as hunting, knowing nothing of mercy.

And when mental patients became professionals, even possessing a [Hero Template], they had no awareness, with minds still in a daze, guided only by likes and dislikes.

When happy, they are carefree and pose no danger at all.

But when irritable, they raise their hands to kill—so what if it’s their own kind? In this world, what could you possibly reason with a lunatic?

Men become wicked when rich.

It’s the same principle.

When a man is poor, an ordinary woman accompanies him through hardships, striving on. In this process, he swears countless times to the woman—mocking the poor youth, ignoring old dowdiness.

In fact, the man truly thinks this way.

Why?

Because he is poor and plain, having a foolish woman love him might be a stroke of good fortune; he might never imagine, in such a destitute state, another beautiful woman liking or sticking to him.

Rather than fidelity, it’s more knowing one’s limitations.

But one day, when the man becomes successful, worth millions, with luxury cars at his disposal, even if his appearance hasn’t changed, who could remain unmoved when beauties, a hundred times prettier than his wife, cling to him in clubs?

In the end, ambition cannot be escaped in this world.

Power and money are magnifying glasses, magnifying one’s dark side dozens, or even hundreds of times.

Ultimately, in this apocalypse, ordinary people can only eat chaff and swallow vegetables, but for professionals, they can do whatever they please.

Order has Chen Feng and rules, with everyone living within the circle; no one dares to break them, foreseeing banishment and even exclusion.

But in other factions, such concepts do not exist, with professionals either rampant or egocentric.

Wearing dragon robes, claiming to be "Zhen," if this were a peaceful era, people would look at them with colored lenses.

Even here, when someone establishes a nation, people would look at them like an idiot. Why? Because normal people can’t do such things, as they’ve been educated in freedom and equality since childhood—normally, when someone points at you, demanding you kneel to speak, what would you do?

Hesitate first, then spit ferociously.

But this is the apocalypse.

Our Emperor is a professional with a [Hero Template], becoming a Golden Tier practitioner in less than a year, with a row of people standing before him. He points randomly at one, ordering a kneel, and not kneeling means a palm descends, turning the head into a mess of fragments.

In the face of death.

No one cares about their dignity.

The rest are afraid, obediently kneeling. They wear modern clothes and must call the person before them "Your Majesty." Ironically, the other laughs heartily, rewarding his subjects: a university student becomes Minister of Personnel, a butcher becomes a commander.

Even when kneeling, gladly kowtowing, they might mock inwardly, facing such an Emperor as if watching fools.

But when posts are assigned, and they realize that with such power they can acquire food and women, their thoughts slowly waver.

Better to be a peaceful dog than chaotic person.

With the world collapsing, why not be a clown to survive, even better than being a dog?

If one hypothetical option involves walking the streets at random, the next second possibly being torn apart, dying on the spot, living better and freer than most as long as you forsake dignity and shame, what would you choose?

This isn’t a question worth debating.

No one in their right mind would refuse such temptation.

The world is chaotic, demons dance, but except for the top, those who act recklessly, the rest beneath them—are any of them not wagging their tails for survival?

The people of this world might have long gone mad.