radicalducati Chapter 106 The Sacred Mountain is Piled Up with Corpses, Ten Thousand People Die for the Calamity b
Chapter 106 The Sacred Mountain is Piled Up with Corpses, Ten Thousand People Die for the Calamity b
Chapter 106 The Sacred Mountain is Piled Up with Corpses, Ten Thousand People Die for the Calamity by Brewing Spiritual Soup
In the blood-red storm of the battlefield at the foot of the sacred mountain, the warrior on horseback loosened the reins, grabbed a leather water bag from the side of the saddle, brought it to his mouth, bit off the stopper, and tilted his head back to drink the warm butter tea. The strong medicinal properties and nutrients spread in his stomach and intestines, turning into a warm feeling all over his body, as well as the essence that surged and boiled in his spine.
He drank the tea bag dry, shook his head and spat out the water pouch. The pouch fell into the whirlwind whipped up by the terrifying energy and was torn to shreds in the blink of an eye.
Lin Zhuo squinted slightly after letting out a burp, and his previously tired and dim eyes became bright and dazzling again.
He will continue to fight.
It continued to ravage the battlefield, like a heavy plow sweeping across a muddy field, turning over the soil back and forth, bringing up countless pieces of flesh and blood, swallowing up the cries and howls of the bandits and thieves.
The white-robed warriors had already charged in from both sides of the battlefield, joining forces with him to form a spearhead formation once again, unstoppable and capable of defeating any enemy they encountered.
The members of the demonic cult could only continue to wait in despair, continuing to order their armies to charge into battle, risking their lives to fill this cannibalistic abyss.
With the appearance of Dharma King Zanfeng on the battlefield, the morale of the Dharma protectors, which was on the verge of collapse, was finally relieved. They were told that if they died in this battle, their souls would be liberated from hell and go to paradise forever, and their families would also receive the best rewards. As a result, the soldiers who had little education believed it and endured their fear to stay on the battlefield.
At this moment, only one question lingered in everyone's mind: whether they were opponents or allies, they were all wondering how long this most powerful martial artist in the world could hold out.
How many more lives will this terrifying meat grinder devour before it stops? Will the fearless rank-and-file soldiers of the Demonic Cult run out of energy first, or will this person's true energy be depleted first?
Everyone knew that Lin Zhuo would eventually run out of energy and stop, but this wait lasted for a very long time.
The sun gradually rose higher.
As the sky grew brighter, many things that were previously indistinct became clear, such as the birds circling in the air, which were vultures waiting to peck at flesh and blood.
They had been looking forward to a grand feast for a long time. The constant supply of corpses from the Holy Palace made this place an excellent feeding spot for these carrion birds, and today was destined to be an unparalleled grand feast.
It was the first morning of early winter. The air in the snowy region was so cold that frost could form, and the dewdrops condensing on the sparse branches and leaves of the trees and shrubs had turned white.
However, before the majestic and awe-inspiring Palace of the Righteous Law, the earth was dark red, glistening with moisture. This flowing red substance was clearly blood, like a short and intense rain.
Blood flowed down the hillside, pooling into streams in the gullies and ravines, enough to float broken banners, shattered bone fragments, submerge withered grass, and bury the nostrils of fallen corpses.
The Demonic Sect had gathered all its forces, assembling an army of over 30,000 armored warriors and nearly 10,000 elite martial artists. In their grand ambitions, they could have marched east into the snowy region, conquered cities and territories, and occupied half of the Central Plains.
But now, all the rise and fall of empires have vanished like smoke in the wind, a spark on a stone, or a fleeting moment; they have all disappeared without a trace, ended, and perished.
The sacred mountain is actually a mountain of corpses.
The wilderness was a sea of blood.
The hell described in the scriptures has been found by people, right here in this sacred temple of the Dharma, which has been worshipped for thousands of years in this snowy land.
Huff—huff! The warhorses beneath the righteous warriors were panting heavily, their breaths puffing out thick white air. Almost all of them were wounded, swaying back and forth on their backs, their faces pale and wet, completely devoid of the dignity of masters. The cloaks they wore to distinguish friend from foe were stained dark red, hanging down on their horses' rumps like heavy curtains.
Gone were the densely packed bandits of the demonic cult, the flashing swords and hidden arrows and poisoned darts, the barbaric monks who could pull five oxen backwards, and the groups of graceful and charming concubines.
Looking around, a large number of the remnants of the Guardian Army fled in the east, south and west, and fought with the reserve forces of the righteous army. However, they were already in complete disarray, losing their armor and weapons and being defeated step by step. Even though they had a numerical advantage over the righteous heroes, they were powerless to turn the tide.
The last remaining elite members of the Demonic Sect rallied together, numbering only thirty or forty. Even the weakest among them were masters of the Grandmaster level. Two Heavenly Kings flanked them as Zanfeng completed his ceremony. The Dharma King gazed silently at the scene, revealing a serene and resolute demeanor amidst the horrific pile of bones.
The raging winds that had swept across the land gradually subsided and calmed down.
All eyes were drawn to the lone figure emerging from the wind.
Drip, drip, the torrential drops of blood rolled down the snow-white cloak, not a single drop staining it red. The cloak remained silvery and pure, stretching lightly in the cool air of early winter.
The jet-black horse's muscles were bulging, and drops of sweat mixed with blood dripped from its belly like a pale red waterfall.
The warrior sitting on the carved saddle bowed slightly, his spine still straight, but he looked utterly weary.
Lin Zhuo's true energy has been reduced by nine-tenths. This body has been squeezed to its limit and can no longer generate more power. He is now unable to even activate the True Self Martial Dragon's Fall once more.
Anyone with eyes could see that he had reached his limit. These martial artists who had shattered armies had also reached their limits. Now was the best time for the rested and exhausted demonic cultists to strike.
Zanfeng Licheng slightly turned his head to look at the mighty Heavenly King beside him. Sangye Sengge immediately understood, strode forward with his head held high, and shouted: "Those who defy the Dharma and harm the Buddha's land, may they immediately enter the Avici Hell!"
The supreme master, who had slaughtered countless people, merely raised his head slightly, casting a cold and indifferent gaze.
The mighty Heavenly King suddenly stopped in his tracks.
The enormous seven-jeweled steel sword in his hand was already eager to drink blood, trembling restlessly. However, Sangye Sengge's legs were rooted to the spot, and no matter how ferocious his face was, he could only lift them up inch by inch with difficulty.
"What kind of sorcery is this?" The members of the Demonic Sect exclaimed in disbelief.
The Dharma King shook his head and sighed, while the Wise and Courageous Heavenly King Cai Songtu hissed, "He's afraid."
Yes, no martial arts or supernatural powers were restricting Sangjie Sengge. The Mighty Heavenly King was simply afraid; his body was more terrified of approaching Lin Zhuo than his mind.
The wind was blowing mournfully, chilling the blood on the ground. Wu had already descended and was picking through the pile of bones, feasting on them.
Lin Zhuo, simply standing on the ground, was already a monument that made all demons retreat.
Even though they could tell he was exhausted, no martial artist dared to challenge him. After all, no one could guarantee that Lin Zhuo wasn't faking it, unless he truly showed signs of weakness.
Lin Zhuo was waiting.
Waiting for what?
In Qiandi County, far away in Shuanghe Prefecture, bones lay exposed in the wilderness, and for miles around, not a rooster crowed. It was said that a wicked dragon lurked in the turbulent Wutuo River, causing the storms, breaching the dikes, and leading to the great flood. Many people had also witnessed a long, narrow black shadow beneath the water's surface, which further fueled the belief in this story.
However, players familiar with the story know that it was not a real dragon, but a crocodile, which was indeed one of the reasons for the dam's destruction. It was driven by demons from a cult to dig underwater, slowly hollowing out the foundation, and then the dam was destroyed when the floodwaters from upstream surged in.
The crocodile's keeper also had a bitter past with the Beggars' Sect. Years ago, the founder of the Beggars' Sect heard that a wicked dragon was causing trouble in the Wutuo River. He went into the water to capture the dragon, killed it, and pulled out its tendons. He then distributed the dragon's eggs to a group of beggars to enjoy. However, he did not expect that the dragon was being cared for by someone who called himself the Dragon Keeper. He was shocked to find that his precious dragon had died violently and the dragon's eggs had disappeared. From then on, he harbored a deep hatred for the Beggars' Sect.
The descendants of the Dragon-Raising Clan, seeking revenge for their ancestors, joined a demonic cult and began raising pig-dragons as a substitute.
No one can subdue this crocodile. It is said that only the Beggars' Sect's treasured Immortal-Binding Bag can capture it. However, the old sect leader is now ill, and the bag serves as a token. Whoever obtains it will assume the position of the leader, so it is inconvenient to use it.
Normally, after gaining the trust of the Beggars' Sect, the player would use a cloth bag to capture the crocodile. However, Zhu Baixuan didn't need such a thing. He simply bent down by the Wutuo River, lightly touched the surface of the river, pulled up a golden rope made of condensed spiritual energy from the water, and slowly dragged it ashore to cut it down.
Nearly a month after the disaster was rebuilt, the silt in the town ruins has been gradually cleared, and new houses have been built one after another, looking quite decent. The disaster victims and Beggar Clan disciples worked together to rebuild their homes. The local gangs were also subdued by the ruthless Jin Xiaohu, who sent his disciples to help. The guys who used to bully others are now behaving themselves.
Today is the first day of early winter. After discussing it, the Beggars' Sect and Zhu Baixuan decided to hold a celebration.
Before dawn, men, women, and children gathered in the countryside outside Zhentuo City, throwing the wild vegetables and fruits they had gathered into a huge, dark gold cauldron. The cauldron already contained tens of thousands of kilograms of food, but it still showed no sign of being full. The crocodile was also skinned and deboned, and chunks of its meat were put into the cauldron.
Once the lid of the cauldron was sealed, Zhu Baixuan pressed down on the cauldron and urged the fire to ignite. Bubbling white steam billowed out, and the fragrance spread for twenty or thirty miles. The weary people all showed happy and expectant smiles.
Clang, clang, clang! The tabby cat banged the gong loudly, shouting, "Everyone! Come and eat!"
This cauldron contains food collected by countless disaster victims, representing their hopes and longings for the future, their careful burial of past sorrows, and their yearning for a full meal. Mixed in with one of the sources of the flood, this crocodile could be considered a semi-divine beast.
The lid of the cauldron was opened, and golden light shot into the sky.
Amidst cheers and praises, people began to share the soup. The thick broth was like honey; just a small spoonful dissolved in water was enough to feed an adult for a whole day without needing to eat.
Jin Xiaohu was the first to get food. He filled a bowl to the brim, put it into his storage ring, and then tossed it into the azure trade channel, sending it to Lin Zhuo, who was far away in the snowy region.
Exhausted, the Grandmaster took out the bowl of thick soup, poured half into his mouth, then poured a few spoonfuls to feed the horse, and handed the rest to the white-robed followers behind him, who then shared it among themselves.
The sound of swallowing saliva rose and fell, no one expected that Lin Zhuo could produce such a fragrant bowl of soup out of thin air.
The demonic cultists suddenly realized that they had missed the best opportunity to kill Lin Zhuo.
Now, we must act immediately before he recovers!
Without saying a word, Zan Fengli charged forward to attack.
Cai Songtu roared, "Monks, heed my command! Slay this demon!"
They rushed forward in a panic, not daring to linger, fearlessly charging towards the formidable enemy who was gradually raising his head, his eyes like embers reigniting.