Oh no, his identity exposed?
Bai Zhou's first reaction was tension. He instinctively looked around, and only after confirming no one was nearby did his solemn expression return to the banner in his hand.
An ancient, primordial brotherhood forged with blood and bronze?
What was that?
But Bai Zhou understood one thing. His gaze shifted downwards to the mark hidden on his wrist, a divine mark inherited from the Angel of War.
"Under the witness of the gods"—it seemed the civilization behind this banner might have some connection to the four gods worshipped by Troy.
As for why the nearly vanished serpentine remnants on the banner could recognize him, the reason was quite simple.
Along with the echo in his ears, the Heavenly Pivot, vibrating and humming within Bai Zhou's body, had already given him the answer.
—It's the Heavenly Pivot!
Essentially, the flag couldn't recognize Bai Zhou's identity, but there seemed to be some special connection between the flag and Tian Shu, proving that the two civilizations did indeed have a deep relationship back then.
But in the end, everything vanished. Troy disappeared into the void, and the civilization the flag represented was left with nothing but the flag and a ring branded with "Angelica," even the faint snake pattern on the flag was almost gone.
After the death of the civilization's guardian, Bai Zhou had no idea who to ask about the civilization, not even its name.
Except for the wolf rider statue.
"I—" Faced with the flag's question about whether he remembered the covenant, Bai Zhou opened his mouth but hesitated.
How could he answer?
He truly didn't know!
However, it seemed that Bai Zhou didn't need to answer anything. After asking those questions, the flag continued:
"In the name of the gods, let us be of one blood, and under the witness of destiny, let our brothers share glory." "
In this age of fading civilization, I pledge my allegiance to you, and I pray that you may restore the freedom and glory of your former city-state."
The moment the words fell, a great wind arose on the banner, as if a gust of cold wind had brought with it ghostly soldiers. Countless soldiers pounded their armor and roared in unison, as if a great wind had blown in.
They shouted,
"Slay Luo! Slay Luo! Slay Luo!"
After three shouts of "Slay Luo!", all was quiet. The blurry serpentine afterimages on the banner ceased their swirling motion, settling still on the surface as if nothing had happened.
But a strange connection had formed between Bai Zhou and the banner; he could now manipulate it. "
[Imperial Guard—points—the banner—kill, kill, kill—]"
Fragmented pieces of information surged forth, accompanied by a thick, pungent aura of blood and killing intent. Bai Zhou frowned, piecing together the fragments to understand the banner's continued function.
It was a legacy battle banner from the imperial guards of a certain city-state, holding extraordinary significance for that guard—the embodiment of their battle spirit.
What appears to be a simple flag is, in the era of the three hundred city-states where mystical manifestations appeared in the world, clearly no ordinary battle flag belonged to the royal guards under the kings of those city-states. Hidden within were densely packed, overlapping rituals, each complementing the others, making the flag incredibly powerful—truly the most lethal weapon in the army.
In that past era, with the flag billowing and the general personally wielding it, it could scorch mountains and boil seas, devour the heavens and earth, and cause battlefields to crumble. Countless mighty armies fell before it!
However, in today's era of civilization's demise, with the break in transmission and the disappearance of everything, battle flags are naturally not spared; they cannot remain unscathed.
If a civilization's tragic end is its destruction, then the deaths and losses of its people and artifacts are considered glorious.
A battle flag shattered in battle becomes a testament to its bloody struggle. If it truly survived unscathed to the present day, later generations would have to suspect that its holder was a traitor or a deserter from that time.
Therefore, the battle flag that fell into Bai Zhou's hands was naturally only a fragment of the Imperial Guard's battle flag. Although the rituals within were so complex that they made Bai Zhou dizzy, its state of disarray was not much better than the ruins buried under the snow around it.
It was through observing these rituals that Bai Zhou understood why his Celestial Pivot had such a strong connection with the flag.
The Celestial Pivot, as the essence of many Trojan rituals, was a universal formula refined from countless rituals, and could be called the mother of all rituals.
Therefore, even though Bai Zhou had not mastered many Trojan rituals, through observing the Celestial Pivot, he could vaguely discern that these ancient rituals nested within the flag bore traces of Trojan ritual style.
In other words, the ritual masters who helped create this flag at the beginning of the Imperial Guard's establishment must have been people from Troy.
With this cooperation, the relationship between the two civilizations—at least for a certain ancient period—was likely deeper than Bai Zhou had previously imagined!
Totem—
thinking of the cries uttered when the banners first appeared, Bai Zhou pondered.
Three hundred city-states, three hundred civilizations, in the age of ignorance, excavated different pre-civilization relics, inheriting knowledge and developing independently—
until Rome unified them all, then renamed the Heroic Empire.
In this historical evolution, Rome excelled in warfare, its mastery and development of the adventurer's path—the path of destiny—was unparalleled.
Troy, on the other hand, was particularly adept at rituals. The lineage of the Temple of the Sun, who controlled rituals, held a respected position; saints and kings sat side-by-side, and they even created incredible masterpieces of ritual, banishing the entire civilization to wander.
The legend of the Trojan Horse, carrying the entire Trojan civilization to wander the void, and its treasure, still circulates across the land of the Heroic Empire.
Thus, it is evident that each of the three hundred city-states possessed unique strengths, each choosing a direction to inherit and develop. Ultimately, through the evolution of history, the fittest survived, and this civilized era became the era of "adventurers."
Totems—perhaps these flags represent the direction that civilization excels in.
Bai Zhou had noticed that while rituals were an important component of the flag's power, they were not the core of its mystique.
Bai Zhou's gaze fell upon the extremely blurry afterimage of the serpentine pattern. Even though it was no longer circling, staring at it for too long made Bai Zhou's heart pound, and a cold sweat inexplicably seeped from his body, as if he were being coldly stared at by some dangerous and ferocious creature.
Specifically, the true mystique of this flag lay in the serpentine pattern itself; the rituals within it acted more as amplifiers, providing energy to the serpentine pattern—like a charging "battery."
Now, the battery was rotten, the serpentine pattern blurred, and the flag's mystique naturally disappeared.
But even if the flag were complete, it would be far beyond Bai Zhou's reach at this moment.
"It sounds somewhat similar to magic patterns, but clearly much more advanced—" Bai Zhou seemed to sense something.
This wasn't the first time he'd heard of totems. These ancient and mysterious terms, which occupy a place in various adventure stories, are familiar to anyone knowledgeable in the occult.
Each time the word "totem" appears in an adventure story, it often represents some mysterious and ancient power, usually difficult to decipher. Adventurers would then travel to ancient tribes to seek knowledge and medicine, and then have wonderful and unforgettable stories with open and bold tribal saintesses and forest elves. Last
time, Bai Zhou learned about totems by tracing their origins through a paintbrush, revealing a fragmented Heavenly Spider Totem and the Golden Spider Gu from Major Luo's Red Spider Totem.
Before that, it was the mysterious and powerful ancient heresy, the ultimate power sought by the Wolf Knights, now imprinted on Bai Zhou's back as the Moon Wolf Totem.
Therefore, Bai Zhou was instinctively sensitive to the word "totem." Everyone in the mystical world is a humble seeker of knowledge, and Bai Zhou was particularly eager to obtain knowledge about totems.
Because if he could obtain the systematic inheritance of totems, he would have the opportunity to restore and implement the fragmented inheritance of the Heavenly Spider Totem and the Golden Spider Gu, and even further develop the power of the Moon Wolf Totem.
That was the powerful power that the Wolf Knights had been desperately seeking, hoping to defeat Rome. If it were more complete, how could it only have the effects of healing under the moon and increasing endurance?
"This city-state—" Bai Zhou carefully examined the flag in his hand, "It seems I really need to ask the Wolf Knight statue for details."
The relationship between rituals and magic runes was probably one of parallel development in the past, each prominent in its own way.
Magic rune studies must have an ancient history and a powerful origin, but in its development, it either lost its way or its lineage was severed—in short, by the time Blue Star appeared, magic runes had become an appendage of ritual studies, and a good ritual master was definitely a magic rune master.
Totems, currently, also have this meaning, but they are more independent, with a complementary relationship between them and rituals.
Just like in the present world of Blue Star, someone who makes electric cars still has to buy batteries from others.
In other words, as a second-tier ritual master, if Bai Zhou had a corresponding totemistic inheritance, he would definitely be able to learn much more efficiently than others. However, if others who are not ritual masters learn totem knowledge, they would most likely need to find a ritual master to help power the totem—
but the difficulty lies in the word "inheritance."
In the mysterious world, without a systematic inheritance, relying on scattered knowledge to conduct research rashly will only lead to unpredictable and terrifying risks.
Unfortunately, totem-related inheritances are particularly mysterious. The old man's notes only recorded knowledge of the Red Spider totem, and even so, he was already suspected to be the most knowledgeable about totems in Tinghai—
until now, Bai Zhou finally saw hope.
A good thing.
As for the present moment
—with a "whoosh," Bai Zhou unfurled the flag in the air. In the wind and snow, he looked at the dark red flag fluttering in the wind in his hand, and his heart stirred.
"Tear!"
A sound like tearing cloth suddenly rang out, and the originally small flag grew larger in the wind, suddenly becoming larger, surging like waves in the wind and snow.
Then, Bai Zhou raised his hand and draped the flag behind him.
The dark red cloak billowed in the wind, fluttering in the snow, its size perfectly fitting.
The young man's figure gained an air of solemnity and ancient majesty, and the surging killing intent and fighting spirit seemed to linger in the surrounding world, then suddenly drawn to Bai Zhou.
"Buzz—"
Bai Zhou's mind went blank for a moment, the fierce killing intent and fighting spirit overwhelming him, almost making him dizzy. Fortunately, the word "Fu" resonated again in the sea of ignorance within him, bringing him back to his senses.
Almost immediately, he put the flag away, feeling lingering fear but also extremely satisfied.
The verification was complete; it was exactly the effect he wanted.
As the embodiment of the former Imperial Guard's battle spirit, this flag had been bathed in countless bloodstains, witnessed countless perilous battles, and fought until the serpent pattern was worn away and only a corner of the flag remained in the final battle that led to the destruction of civilization.
Such a flag, even if the totem was no longer visible and the ritual was damaged, was still a fierce object full of fighting spirit and killing intent.
After draping it over his body, even if only a small portion of the killing intent was leaked out—what if Bai Zhou used it as fuel to ignite his own battle flames?
To what extent would the battle flames amplify Bai Zhou's power?
Almost without hesitation, Bai Zhou developed a use for this battle flag.
Using forbidden ancient characters to unlock locks, using a saber to consume demon cells, using thatched huts as shields and fortresses, using the battle flag as an external cloak to ignite battle flames—
in these areas, Bai Zhou always seemed to have ingenious ideas, a remarkable inventor in his small workshop.
It's just a pity that this method is extremely self-destructive, causing immense damage to both the enemy and himself. Even a small leak of killing intent would place a far greater burden on Bai Zhou than he initially imagined, making it only a near-suicidal last resort, a gamble in desperate situations.
But having the right to take this gamble also gives Bai Zhou a real sense of security in this cold, mysterious world.
"Hopefully I won't need this trick—" Bai Zhou shook his head, "Otherwise, I might become a madman who only knows how to fight."
A killing machine that never tires, whose only goals in life are destruction, fighting, and killing, going on a rampage until death—Bai Zhou doesn't want to become like that.
The Listening Sea of Blue Star probably can't withstand a completely berserk Bai Zhou—
besides, Bai Zhou carrying the battle flag also has an extra form of identification.
If he encounters zombies from that civilization or benevolent beings from that civilization during his exploration of the graveyard of civilizations, he can use this to escape danger, and even has a chance to subdue them—
"Of course, if I encounter someone who is hostile to this civilization, I have to do everything I can to hide it, I absolutely cannot expose it!" Bai Zhou thought again.
Satisfied with the haul from the serpentine flag, Bai Zhou frowned and looked at the floating, wriggling last words on the flag.
While pondering the contents of his last words, Bai Zhou turned around and began carefully dismantling the thatched hut beside him.
He meticulously numbered every broken brick in the walls, handling everything with extreme care, afraid of damaging anything. He didn't miss a single stray pebble in the corner, a single blade of thatch on the ceiling, or even a clod of dirt between the thatch blades.
Pack it all up and stuff it into the Trojan Horse!
What does it mean to dig three feet into the ground? What does it mean to be three feet above the sky? What does it mean to truly "move"?
Just look at Bai Zhou now.
Finally, through Bai Zhou's diligent labor and sweat, the half-collapsed thatched hut was completely transformed into a clean, messy empty space.
Before long, only a clean pit remained beneath Bai Zhou's feet
!
The boy stood in the pit, wielding a hoe he had once used from the ruins of Troy, working diligently and enthusiastically.
The mud around him churned and swirled, revealing the skill of an old farmer and the toil of laborers amidst the swirling snow.
"Cough! Cough cough!"
After finishing, Bai Zhou put away his hoe, coughed twice, and clapped his hands, which were actually completely free of mud and dust, before climbing out of the large pit beneath his feet.
"Thump—thump—"
Passing the pile of bones in front of the thatched hut and the rows of tombstones with withered flowers in front of them, Bai Zhou quickly arrived at the corpse of [Wings of Mourning].
This old vulture, named [Wings of Mourning], had been fierce and powerful in life, but now its corpse lay quietly in the center of the giant pit atop the snow-capped mountain, like a collapsed, ugly mountain of flesh.
On its wings, the outer skeletons had been burned by Bai Zhou's [Heavenly Will Returns to Ashes], but the inner skeletons were preserved by the vulture's flesh and blood, providing a buffer and allowing it to survive.
These dense carcasses, embedded and fused to the vulture's wings, long since tainted and mutated by the Sunset Graveyard, were now writhing, as if finally freed from the vulture's restraints. One after another, they struggled outward from the wings, flailing their arms and legs, their teeth snapping and tearing at the vulture's flesh.
Some teeth tore from the wings, others finger bones protruded from old scars on the vulture's abdomen, a gruesome sight; the vulture carcasses had become writhing mountains of bone.
The vultures fused with the carcasses were hideous, and the carcasses fused with them were not free.
They pulled at each other, unable to escape.
"Unable to escape—" Standing at the edge of the giant pit, observing this scene, Bai Zhou suddenly had a thought.
His gaze shifted, looking again at the last words floating and writhing above the flag in his hand:
[Death is common—but what about the little eagle?]
"Death—is common—"
Bai Zhou seemed to understand, then took a deep breath.
He had an idea.
He was going to try.
In fact—
as he approached the massive pit, a brand had already been burning hot on his left wrist for quite some time, as if sensing something!
Then, he decisively rolled up his sleeve, raised his left wrist, and aimed it at the eagle corpses in the giant pit below—the horrifying, corrupted remains on their wings.
His target was those ominous, unidentified, and tainted corpses. On the skin of Bai Zhou's left wrist, the pattern of the Trojan temple altar faintly glowed.
As the brand on his wrist burned intensely, Bai Zhou silently uttered, "Troy, sacrifice!"