Chapter 6: The Whole World Fights

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Chapter 6: The Whole World Fights (Begging for Monthly Tickets!)

The setting sun was as red as blood; the great sword was like a rainbow. On the battlefield, lives were worthless—let alone blood.

A colossal blade swept across horizontally, cleaving a knight and the qilin beast beneath him clean in two. Blood sprayed forth like a fountain, dyeing the sky and earth a deep crimson.

The old man did not pause for even a moment. Dragging the great sword behind him, he maintained his breakneck pace, leaning so far forward that he was nearly parallel to the ground, letting the sharp blades of wild grass carve thin streaks of blood across his face.

On the southern wasteland plains, rogue cultivators in garments of every color were locked in battle with dozens of Beast Sect knights in identical black armor. Men killed and were killed in an endless exchange.

Yet the rogue cultivators each practiced different arts and had never trained in coordinated formation. Before the Beast Sect's elite knights—legendary for being able to stand against demon generals with only four riders—they appeared to possess superior cultivation and overwhelming numbers, but they were no sturdier than paper, pierced and shredded beneath the knights' lances.

After three rounds of charging, more than half of the rogue cultivators lay dead or wounded. The knights gradually seized command of the battlefield, and being disciplined veterans, they needed no words to communicate—within moments, each had selected his next target.

The old man with the bloodstained white beard and dragging great sword had already slain five knights, indirectly costing the Beast Sect the equivalent of a demon general's combat strength. Naturally, he was marked as the primary target.

Five lances of forged steel glinted with an icy chill beneath the setting sun, their tips all pointing at the old man. Beneath the knights, the qilin beasts grew increasingly frenzied, pawing the ground ceaselessly and letting out muffled roars.

A knight whose right shoulder had been almost completely severed bound his dangling arm to his body with a strip of cloth, cast aside his lance, and drew his sword with his left hand. Raising it to his chest, he turned his back to the setting sun and screamed in frenzy: "For Paradise!"

"Kill!" Inspired by the gravely wounded knight, the dozens of riders shouted in unison, their spurs savagely kicking at their qilin beasts' flanks. Maddened by pain, the beasts charged like devils unleashed.

On the rogue cultivators' side, despair and helplessness reigned. The severely wounded who had not yet died groaned; the lightly wounded shrank back hesitantly. A handful of cultivators whose strength barely reached the demon general level instinctively clustered together, hoping that an alliance of the strong might win them a thin thread of survival.

Of the several hundred rogue cultivators, only about thirty could still fight. Of the fifty knights, more than thirty remained unharmed.

The destructive power of the Beast Sect's elite knights in a coordinated charge was plain for all to see.

The old man narrowed his eyes, staring hard at the knights charging toward him once more. He could already tell that at least five riders were coming for him. "Looks like I'm getting quite the honorable treatment," he sighed.

An evening wind swept past, bowing the wild grass low and rolling green waves across the prairie.

The old man smiled faintly, a hint of release in his expression, and sighed once more: "Who would have thought I'd die at the hands of my own kind in the end."

Riding the wind, he charged out with his great sword dragging behind him, his momentum like a startled tiger.

The great sword met the lances—a notch broke from its edge, and lances went flying.

A sheet of hot blood spilled; a knight fell dead.

Another lance came thrusting in. The great sword shifted sideways, and as the lance point struck the blade with a clang of metal, the old man released his sword, lunged close to the rider, leaped, and drove his fist into the knight's helmet. The steel caved in, and milky brains mixed with blood burst from the ruined helm as the knight tumbled away.

Lances came stabbing in from both sides. The old man bellowed, reaching out with both hands to seize the two weapons. The instant his palms closed around them, the sleeves on his arms burst apart and scattered like snowflakes.

The snow had never stopped falling; thick clouds still blanketed the sky.

Hua Queyue silently tallied the survivors in his heart.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

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"Thirty-nine."

Hua Queyue's gaze swept over the transmigrators, covered in wounds and worn thin with exhaustion, and his brow furrowed deeply.

Over the past month or more, counting Zhou Yu, the transmigrators' casualty rate had already surpassed half—and that was despite reckless use of talismans and formation arrays. Of the surviving half, those still fit for battle were few and far between. Most were holding on through sheer will to live and a burning desire to avenge their comrades. Even Hua Queyue himself had been wounded several times.

Sky Wolf had already noticed that Hua Queyue was injured and could no longer form hand seals. The demon beasts' assaults grew more frenzied with each wave; perhaps only one more push would send the transmigrators over the brink.

The defensive line had already fallen back to the mountainside, yet the demon beasts, holding the high ground, grew only bolder. They did not begrudge sacrifice; they did not fear casualties. They were beasts.

Watching the snow drift down from the heavens, Hua Queyue gave the order to retreat once more, pulling back into the woods at the mountainside, where the trees might offer cover and a relative advantage.

Abuli walked at the very rear of the column. Naturally tall and thin to begin with, he now looked even gaunter, yet there was not a trace of discouragement on his face. Though he grieved for his fallen comrades, battle after brutal battle had seen his strength soar, and his confidence in himself grew by the day.

A piercing cry came from the sky. Jack's vampire wings were already tattered and torn as he descended, gasping for breath. "The demon beasts are coming after us again. They'll catch up in about an hour."

Hua Queyue was silent for a moment, then said: "Take the others and keep moving. Enter the woods, rest briefly, then prepare an ambush. Fight and fall back toward the Spirit Realm. With luck, we'll meet our relief at the foot of the mountain."

Jack stared into Hua Queyue's eyes and said: "I will fight alongside you!"

Hua Queyue shook his head. "Your sacrifices have already been great enough. From here on, let me be the one to vindicate the Spirit Realm."

Jack looked at his companions on the mountain path, battered and exhausted, gritted his teeth, and said: "I'll wait for you in the woods below."

More than an hour later, Sky Wolf led several hundred demon beasts of the reinforcement army past that spot.

The foremost Sky Wolf suddenly sniffed the air, halted, and raised his right arm to signal the host to stop.

On the narrow mountain road at the turn of the path stood a lone man, a bottomless abyss at his side.

Hua Queyue smiled at Sky Wolf and said: "Do you dare to fight?"

Sky Wolf said nothing. He slashed his right hand downward and barked: "Take him!"

The demon horde surged toward the narrow pass in a flood.

Wherever there are towering mountains, there are often waterfalls or rivers running through them. Lost Mountain was no exception. A great river flowed down from Lost Mountain, winding and coiling, stretching on for who knew how many thousands of miles, its countless tributaries nourishing all of humanity throughout Luosheng Dao.

This great river, affectionately called the Mother River by the people of Luosheng Dao, stepped forth once more when humanity faced extermination, saving the entire human world.

This time, it did not irrigate ten thousand acres of fertile farmland, nor nurture a thousand leagues of grassland, but transformed into a natural moat that halted the advance of the demon army.

Of course, a river alone was not enough; there had to be people as well. The allied forces of all the great nations and great powers camped along the river. In this war for humanity's very survival, mankind had thrown in almost everything it had, and banners of every hue fluttered far into the distance.

The key to the entire defense line lay at a place called Calm River Crossing, where the current ran relatively gentle and the riverbank stretched wide.

"Calm River Crossing: calm the river, and you may cross."

Ling Youzi spoke the phrase softly. With one hand he rubbed his ever-present teapot as he looked at Xuan Jue, the Grand General of the Xuanming Kingdom, seated not far before him.

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"Grand General Xuan Jue, I care not what difficulties or obstacles you face. I ask you to think carefully on the survival of all humankind. If your army continues to hold back its strength and Calm River Crossing is lost, then humanity truly has no path left to retreat. Glory before our ancestors, or ten thousand ages of shame..."

Xuan Jue sat in gloomy silence.

At the meeting that had just concluded, every faction had heaped accusations on the Xuanming Kingdom, saying it was going through the motions, deliberately hoarding its strength, and thereby causing the allied forces to fall back step by step and suffer defeat in the first counterattack.

The war tent was utterly still, broken only by the rustle of Ling Youzi's hand stroking his teapot and the sputter of oil from the lamp.

After a long silence, Xuan Jue rose and walked to the tent's entrance. He reached out and lifted the flap. Beyond, the sun, not yet set, had stained the entire river's surface blood-red. Xuan Jue stood gazing at the setting sun for a long while, then finally gritted his teeth, turned, and said to Ling Youzi: "I understand."

That night, the demon race launched a surprise attack across the river. Grand General Xuan Jue of the Xuanming Kingdom led from the very front, donning his armor personally and clashing with Green Ox Demon King, one of the five great demon kings. He took five arrows to his body yet never retreated. Under Xuan Jue's command, the soldiers of Xuanming slew five thousand demons in a single battle, routed the demon army, and drove them back across the river.

In the Black Bamboo Grove, the clearing at the center had nearly doubled in size over the past days.

With a thunderous crash, Zhou Yu punched Lecherous Monkey to the ground, pounced atop him, and landed two more blows that sent the monkey's eyes rolling white.

"You lunatic!" Zhou Yu fumed. "Why do you keep ambushing me for no reason? If you don't explain yourself today, believe me, I'll beat you all the way till dawn!"

Lecherous Monkey wrapped his tail around Zhou Yu and hurled him off, clambered out of the pit, shook himself steady, and bared his teeth at Zhou Yu. "You 'monster'! You eat wild deer, you eat wild rabbits, you eat wild boar. Who knows when you'll decide you want a bite of me? If I don't kill you when I get the chance, am I an idiot?"

Zhou Yu picked himself up, stared at Lecherous Monkey as if he were looking at an imbecile, and said: "You really are an idiot. When did I ever say I'd eat you? Do I honestly look like some glutton who'll devour anything that moves?"

"You certainly do!" Lecherous Monkey shrieked as he lunged at Zhou Yu, and the two tumbled into another brawl.

In recent days, Lecherous Monkey and Zhou Yu had fought almost every single day, which was why the clearing in the black bamboo grove had expanded by nearly double. Each won and lost in turns, yet neither could finish the other, both stymied by the other's freakish resilience and terrifying recovery.

Zhou Yu threw a punch, and Lecherous Monkey leaped backward, clearing a full hundred feet in a single bound.

Zhou Yu drew back his fist and cursed: "Damn it! You're hopping farther and farther away!"

Lecherous Monkey gasped for breath: "Hah! And your punches are getting nastier and nastier!"

"Hah! You're copying my speech again!" Zhou Yu clenched his fists and charged furiously at the monkey, thinking he would punch that pest's head clean off, and without meaning to he shouted: "Take this move! Pegasus Meteor Fist!"

The words had barely left his mouth when a bolt of lightning seemed to strike through Zhou Yu's mind, a figure surfacing before his eyes.

A bare-chested man, covered in scars, carrying a great iron box on his back. Carved upon the iron box was a flying horse. He said: "Scars are a man's badge of honor!"

His single punch was a thousand punches, every one like a shooting star.

A name grew clearer and clearer in Zhou Yu's heart.

"Are you kidding me?! Saint Seiya?!" Zhou Yu bellowed.

Lecherous Monkey cared nothing for what Zhou Yu was thinking. He only knew that Zhou Yu had suddenly gone blank, so he threw a punch that slammed into Zhou Yu's stomach and sent him flying backward, snapping several bamboo stalks, crushing many flowers, and flattening a great many blades of grass.

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