Chapter 323 Despair
"Get out! All of you, get out for Zhen!"
On the Golden Throne Hall.
The young emperor kicked over the imperial desk with one foot, and wine jugs and jade cups shattered all over the ground.
The hundred officials were silent as winter cicadas, scrambling and crawling out of the hall.
At the instant the vermilion lacquer doors slammed shut, the emperor stumbled toward the screen behind the dragon chair, his voice carrying a sobbing tone.
"National Preceptor! The rebels are almost at the Imperial City!"
A black-robed Daoist walked out from behind the screen.
Between his fingers, which were as withered as eagle claws, he rolled a string of white bone prayer beads.
"Why is Your Majesty panicking?"
The Daoist gave a hoarse laugh, and the pressure of the Mystic Profound Realm swept through the great hall like a cold wind.
The candlelight instantly turned a ghostly green.
"Merely a bunch of ants."
The emperor collapsed on the dragon chair, his crown askew.
He stared at what was faintly visible under the hem of the Daoist's robe—that was clearly a segment of ghastly white bone.
"But... but that rebel Ye Fan..."
"Ye Fan?"
The Daoist suddenly let out a strange laugh.
"This poor Daoist calculated with my fingers; for this person to achieve this step, he indeed has a few unique points... but in the face of absolute strength, it is all a joke."
Outside the hall, the heaven-shaking shouts of killing could already be faintly heard, and the emperor trembled all over.
"Before sunrise tomorrow, the rebel heads will hang on the city gate."
The Daoist bowed sinisterly.
"Now... why doesn't Your Majesty find some amusement?"
The emperor's eyes lit up, and he let out a long sigh of relief.
He knew deeply that since this National Preceptor came to him, whatever had been said had never had any mishaps.
Relaxing, he waved his hand.
"Someone! Pass down the order for song and dance!"
The music of silk and bamboo started, and twelve dancers in thin gauze walked lightly into the great hall.
The Daoist retreated to the shadows, watching the emperor embrace the lead concubine and drink wildly.
Behind the concubine's neck, a faintly visible suture line glowed with a bruised purple color under the candlelight.
"Drink! Keep drinking!"
The emperor poured wine onto the dancer's snow-white chest, completely unaware that the beauty in his arms had no heartbeat at all.
Outside the hall, Ye Fan's insurgent army had already started engaging in close combat with the defending city guards.
Yet the music and song inside the hall were just reaching their climax.
Ye Fan stood at the front of the formation, his battle robe fluttering in the wind, and the iron sword in his hand reflected the firelight.
Behind him were tens of thousands of raggedly dressed righteous army men with eyes like torches.
"Brothers!"
Ye Fan pointed his sword at the city tower, his voice like thunder.
"Ahead is the Imperial City! Once we break this pass, no one in the world can stop us!"
"Kill——!!!"
The angry roars shook the sky, and the insurgent army charged toward the city wall like a mad tide.
The defending soldiers on the city hurriedly set up crossbows, and a rain of arrows like locusts whistled down.
"Raise shields!"
Ye Feng shouted sternly.
The front row of the insurgent army immediately raised crude wooden shields, door planks, and even pot lids.
Arrows nailed onto them with dull thuds, but people still fell, blood staining the frozen earth.
Yet the people behind stepped over their companions' corpses without hesitation and continued to charge.
"Release rolling stones! Pour fire oil!"
The defending commander roared.
Huge stones crashed down from the city top, smashing into the crowd, flesh and blood flying everywhere.
Immediately after, boiling fire oil poured down, and flames instantly swallowed dozens of people; the miserable screams were heart-tearing.
But the insurgent army did not stop.
"Set up the cloud ladders!"
Ye Fan split an arrow shot at him with his sword.
"If we don't break this pass today, we vow not to turn back!"
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Dozens of cloud ladders smashed heavily onto the city wall, and the insurgent army climbed up like ants clinging to it.
The defending soldiers frantically pushed the ladders and cut the ropes, but the insurgent army came wave after wave.
Some were pierced by long spears yet still clung tightly to the city bricks, buying an instant of opportunity for those behind.
The city top fell into melee combat.
A skinny farmer was hacked on the shoulder by a defending soldier, but he grinned ferociously and hugged the other, falling down the city wall together.
"Madmen! They are all madmen!"
The defending soldiers were terrified.
A few youths of the insurgent army were bathed in blood, looking like Asuras; wherever they passed, the defending soldiers retreated in defeat.
"The city gate! Open the city gate!"
The insurgent army roared.
Below the city, dozens of strong men held giant logs, madly ramming the city gate.
"Thud! Thud!"
Every impact made the entire city wall tremble.
Finally——
"Boom——!!!"
The iron gate of the Tianque Gate collapsed under the huge force, and the city gate opened wide.
"Kill inside!"
The insurgent army roared and poured in.
But at this moment, from the shadows inside the city gate, a black-robed Daoist slowly walked out.
His figure was withered, his face hidden under a hood, and only a pair of eyes glowed with a ghostly green light, captivating the soul like ghost fire.
"Ants."
The Daoist spoke hoarsely, his voice not loud, but it caused the charging insurgent soldiers at the front to be struck by lightning.
They bled from their seven orifices and died on the spot.
Ye Fan's pupils shrank sharply, and he gripped his iron sword.
"A cultivator?!"
The Daoist slowly raised his hand, and black mist surged in his sleeve, turning into dozens of skeleton phantoms.
They screamed and pounced toward the insurgent army.
Wherever they passed, the flesh and blood of living people melted away, leaving only white bones.
In just a few breaths, dozens of insurgent soldiers fell to the ground.
The black-robed Daoist stepped forward, the ground cracked, and a cold wind suddenly rose.
He stared at these mortals with doubtful faces, the corner of his mouth splitting into a non-human arc.
"The game should end."
Ye Fan's fists were clenched white, his nails digging deep into his palms.
According to the rules of the Immortal Spirit Sacred Ground, he absolutely could not reveal his cultivation strength in front of these mortals.
Once he used spiritual power, his identity would be exposed; if it was judged as a failed assessment, then all his efforts these days would be wasted.
But the black-robed Daoist before him was a real Mystic Profound Realm cultivator.
Even if he went all out, it would be difficult to win in a short time.
But if he didn't make a move——
"Ah——!!"
A miserable scream pierced the eardrum.
Ye Fan suddenly looked up and saw the black-robed Daoist standing in the shadow of the open city gate.
Withered fingers slowly extended from the wide sleeve robe, and ghostly green phosphorus fire lingered at the fingertips.
His laughter came from the depths of hell, hoarse and cold.
"Ants..."
He lightly raised his hand, and the ground suddenly cracked.
Countless pale bone claws broke out of the soil, grabbing the ankles of the insurgent soldiers charging at the front.
"Ah——!"
Screams rose one after another.
The insurgent soldiers entangled by bone claws saw their flesh and blood wither at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Their skin quickly turned ashen, finally turning into dry corpses that crashed to the ground.
Fear spread like a plague.
"Demon... demon arts!"
Someone retreated trembling.
But more people grit their teeth and gripped their weapons.
"What are we afraid of! There are so many of us! Charge up! Hack him to death!"
An old veteran with a face full of blood and dirt roared, raising a rusty machete high to lead the charge.
"Kill——!"
Dozens of insurgent soldiers followed closely behind, roaring and pouncing toward the black-robed Daoist.
The Daoist sneered, waved his sleeve, and black mist surged, turning into dozens of ferocious ghost shadows screaming and pouncing toward the crowd.
"Pu! Pu! Pu!"
The ghost shadows pierced through their chests, and the insurgent soldiers fell like wheat being cut.
Blood splashed, dyeing the stone road in front of the city gate red.
Yet they still charged.
Someone had their chest torn open by a ghost shadow but still held onto the Daoist's leg tightly, using their last strength to roar.
"Hack him! Hack him!"
Sword light flashed, and the Daoist's robe hem was slashed, but he just lifted his foot to crush it with contempt.
"Crack!"
That person's head exploded like a watermelon.
"No——!"
The insurgent soldiers stared with eyes splitting apart, but the faster they charged, the more miserably they died.
Some were entangled by black mist, flesh melting into white bones; some had their hearts pierced by ghost shadows, kneeling to vomit blood and die; others were strangled by an invisible force, struggling in mid-air, and eventually their necks broke.
Despair shrouded the battlefield.
The black-robed Daoist walked forward slowly; wherever he passed, corpses covered the wild.
This was a cultivator.
He was like an invisible wall, blocking the way between the insurgent army and the Imperial City; no one could cross the thunder pool half a step.
The last charging insurgent soldier was a youth of only sixteen or seventeen.
He tremblingly raised his long spear, tears in his eyes, but still grit his teeth and stabbed out.
"Pu!"
The Daoist raised his hand, and the youth's chest was instantly pierced.
He lowered his head looking at his gushing wound, lips trembling, and finally fell to his knees, breathing his last.
The black-robed Daoist shook the blood off his hand, and his cold gaze swept over the remaining insurgent soldiers.
"Who else?"
No one answered.
Only the wind blew across the battlefield, rolling up the smell of blood, and the silent despair.
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