radicalducati Chapter 104 The long night ends as the drums sound, a heroic steed gallops across the sky.
Chapter 104 The long night ends as the drums sound, a heroic steed gallops across the sky.
Chapter 104 The long night ends as the drums sound, a heroic steed gallops across the sky.
Many people couldn't sleep that night. They were both terrified of the long night and wished the sun would never rise, because tomorrow might bring death.
But the sun always rises, and even the longest night will end. So when the pure, immaculate snow-capped peak of Bayin Gawa, the most beautiful, solemn, and majestic holy mountain in the western wilderness, is bathed in a brilliant golden glow by the rising sun on the eastern horizon, the monks and servants stationed at the foot of the mountain, along with their combined army of protectors, awaken to the rumbling of drums and horns. From afar, they appear like colorful, square-shaped waves on the hillside, slowly marching towards the plains, their footsteps and hooves shaking the earth and mountains, raising high clouds of dust that fly into the air.
At this moment, the stars in the gray-purple sky have not yet completely closed their eyes. Today is the first day of early winter. There is no sign of the new moon. Only a line of dark, low-lying clouds hangs horizontally like crow feathers. A few small black birds circle around. Perhaps they are eagles, or perhaps vultures. They are not visible at all in such a dim sky.
The rebel army had also woken up. Even though the people who had been tense all night were still a little sleepy, they simply couldn't fall back asleep.
Their leader, the Grandmaster, had already descended from the high flagpole to the ground. He was already clad in heavy armor, though he wasn't wearing a helmet, allowing his face and black hair to be bathed in the wind and the gazes of the onlookers. He looked calm and radiant, as if he wasn't going to brave the bloodbath at Hushan, but rather preparing for an exciting hunt.
"Senior brother." Shu Yuliu led his horse over, the jade bridle and carved saddle polished to a shine, the horse's mane brushed with oil, the horseshoes striking the barren grass with a clattering sound.
The junior sister leading the horse looked thinner than last month. Her serious expression made her eyes and brows appear melancholic and distant. Experience can make people grow. She is now an ancient shaman priestess and can no longer present herself as a lively modern star.
So when she passed through the crowd, the people on both sides knelt down in reverence and worship, as if she were walking on a road full of lotus flowers.
Lin Zhuo took the reins from Shu Yuliu. To onlookers, they simply gazed at each other in silence, neither saying a word. The air between them was so solemn and sacred, as if a grand and invisible destiny was witnessing their affection.
[Mingxiao Drum]: Second Brother, be careful in battle. Fight if you can win, retreat if you can't. I have plenty of spare weapons in my storage ring; replace them if they break. The butter tea I prepared for you is also in your water bag, hanging on your saddle. Remember to drink it. [Fuyou Yue]: Okay, be careful too. Don't rush in impulsively. Protect everyone. [Knock Knock on the Gong]: Human, the cat will bless you. [Little Raccoon Burning Incense.jpg]
[Daxia Loves Noodles]: It's already bright here, and I'm preparing to make soup. I'll let you know when it's ready. [Fuyouyue]: Thank you, Little Cat. Thank you, Senior Brother. Now I have more confidence. Players in the team channel interacted enthusiastically.
A mournful wail—the distant bugle call of an advance drifted from the sacred mountain.
"Master Lin, we are all ready and await your command!" The martial arts heroes rode up in formation.
This great battle, which will determine the fate of the snowy region and the future of the world, is led by Lin Zhuo alone, with 108 heroes who are determined to follow him to the death. They are a strange team, including men and women, young people and old people, but they are all highly motivated and willing to risk their lives. Each of them wears a snow-white cloak to show their unity and camaraderie, and to make it easier for friendly forces to identify them on the battlefield.
The remaining thousands of warriors were assigned different tasks. The main force of the rebel army remained in place, with the goal of self-preservation. Another general reserve force was ready to charge and rescue in times of crisis, or join the battlefield to hunt down the fleeing troops when the situation was favorable.
As dawn broke, the people of the righteous army gathered. Tens of thousands of them were gathered together, a dark mass that stretched as far as the eye could see. Many could not see what was ahead, but they stood on tiptoe, full of anxiety and hope, hoping that if the eyes of the Golden Pearl Mami looked down, they would see their silent trust and worry.
Lin Zhuo mounted his horse and looked around. He was usually quite eloquent, but now he didn't know what to say. It seemed that no words could match his current intense emotions. So he simply looked back at all the people who believed in him, surrounded him, and admired him.
"Senior brother," Shu Yuliu spoke up, raising his fist to his chest to cheer himself on, tilting his head and smiling brightly, "Junior sister wishes you a great time on your journey. I'll be right here, drumming up support for you!"
Lin Zhuo found her expression quite amusing, so he burst into laughter. When he laughed, the 108 heroes also laughed heartily. This cheerful and optimistic atmosphere was intoxicating, infecting all the people shivering in the cold and gloomy early winter morning with joy, and they roared with laughter.
Boom! Boom! Boom! — The demonic cultists erected wooden towers, and on the rooftops, red-robed monks raised their femur mallets and vigorously struck pale white drums, thus setting off on their campaign.
When the Demonic Cult's guardian army gathered together and remained still, they truly appeared to be in strict discipline, with each square formation arranged neatly and straight, and their banners standing tall and orderly like a forest.
However, the historical background of the world of "Cangcheng" will not give rise to any profound military theories. The battles here are often small-scale skirmishes among martial arts masters. The most popular tactic is always decapitation. There are few large-scale battles between civilian groups, and few martial artists in the martial arts world have the talent and ability to command thousands of troops.
It's not difficult to get these ordinary people without martial arts skills to put on armor and form ranks, but once the marching begins, their cowardice is immediately apparent. The three armies move at different paces, some sparsely, some crowded together, some dawdling, and some rushing about. After only a few miles, the various formations become scattered and mixed up like a pot of soup.
That being said, the evil cultists were indeed cunning and treacherous. At the forefront of the Dharma Protectorate were thousands of ragged serfs, forced by swords and spears to run like cattle and sheep, charging towards the rebel army in a mighty procession.
"These bastards!" The righteous men of the Central Plains cursed upon seeing this.
The scoundrels of the Demonic Cult have always been like this. Their crossbows and catapults are also equipped with many slaves, using these living people as human shields. Some of the Tibetan monks even hold huge door panels as shields, each of which is used to bind innocent men, women, and children.
The thumping of the rattle-drums echoed, the mournful strains of bone flutes filled the air, and various remains were scattered across the bodies of the demonic cult's guardians. These wretched dead became instruments of lamentation, while the surviving slaves wailed in the cold wind. Life and death wailed on this land, and demons and monsters stirred up trouble under this sky.
Clatter, clatter, clatter—On a high wooden platform, a large red-lacquered cowhide drum is set up, and an auspicious bodhisattva holding a double mallet adorned with flowers beats the drum urgently amidst the dancing and singing of the crowd.
Her body shone with divine light, brighter and more dazzling than the faint morning sun in the east. Bathed in the divine radiance from beyond the heavens, everyone felt their hearts pound with joy, and the rhythm of song and dance surged through their veins.
"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!" Tens of thousands of people and thousands of warriors shouted, and the wind whipped up by their shouts made the clouds in the sky stop in surprise.
The drums beat loudly, and the horses' hooves clattered.
The snow-white cloak billowed in the wind like a hundred rapid, trembling waves, as the steed galloped wildly, its strong muscles bulging.
Standing atop the towering palace roof, Dharma King Zanfeng, along with the Wise and Courageous Heavenly Kings behind him, gazed into the distance. They saw a giant, snow-white arrow flying across the dark green and yellowish-brown plains in the bright, dazzling morning glow of the east. More than a hundred riders, led by Lin Zhuo, formed the simplest arrowhead formation and shot towards the dark mass of the Demonic Sect's Dharma Protectors.
"My two beloved ministers, please go and prepare to meet the enemy. I will be there shortly."
"The true Dharma is supreme." The thin and short Heavenly King of Wisdom and Courage knelt on one knee, his hand on his chest and his head bowed.
"Transcend the sea of suffering." The mighty Heavenly King's enormous ten-foot-tall body shattered the thick brickwork with just one kneel.
"As long as the Buddhas live, my teachings will endure forever," the Dharma King replied softly, and the two great masters behind him quietly departed.
Zanfeng Licheng took a deep breath, his young face as handsome and full as moonlight. He gazed intently at the martial artist who had stirred up turmoil in the Western Desolate Region. For the past month, countless monks had discussed this man countless times. Now, all methods had been exhausted and all preparations were complete. Success or failure depended on today.
"Martial arts, martial arts. If a person can master martial arts to this level, what in the world is impossible?" Zanfeng Licheng sighed inwardly. "If he were to truly stand before me, what could determine our superiority would not be jewels and fine clothes, mansions and beautiful women, servants and dependents, but only our martial arts. All grand plans and great undertakings are nothing but dust before our eyes without martial arts."
Zan Fengli did not harbor any hatred towards Lin Zhuo. Strong people can understand each other. Before a martial artist dies, all external losses are acceptable, because as long as one lives, these things will eventually return. The only thing that cannot be damaged is their life itself.
Therefore, he could tolerate Lin Zhuo's attacks and destruction of the Demonic Sect, but in the final battle, he had to offer all his determination, rouse all his anger, and gather all the principles of his life to defend his own life.
The wind blew by, bringing with it the deafening shouts of battle from the foot of the sacred mountain, and the Dharma King's figure vanished without a trace like wisps of smoke.
He wouldn't wait in the majestic palace for the enemy to attack, then hypocritically adhere to the formalities of a Dharma King. That's not the attitude of someone who wants to win. Zanfeng, hailed as the most talented person in a thousand years since the Demon-Subduing Red Venerable, is not bound by any dignity or etiquette. He will fight on the battlefield, leading a mighty army to fight his opponents to the death.