The string of the iron bow in front of Ning Que was loose, but the string of the giant bow was pulled taut. Just like what happened in the Field of Wind and Snow, there were confrontations everywhere and battles could break out at any time. No one knew when the end of the world would come.
A Da was a devout follower chosen by Sangsang and the most outstanding young powerhouse of the Golden Tribe Royal Court. That was why he could feel Ning Que's gaze on the city wall of Chang 'an from thousands of miles away. Hengmu Liren was in the same situation as him, but he could not feel it. Maybe because Ning Que was not looking at him, or because there were too many gazes on him.
The sacred sedan moved slowly on the streets of Yangzhou City. The beautiful sacred music kept ringing. The people of Qinghe Prefecture knelt on both sides of the street and looked at the sacred sedan with passion and humility. The passion and humility came from either piety or fear. Either way, it was what Hengmu wanted to see. That was all he wanted to see.
Through the veil of the sacred sedan, Hengmu looked at the seven masters of the clans of Qinghe Prefecture who knelt behind him. He thought about what they said when he summoned them. Hengmu smiled coldly and thought to himself, "I don't need to worry about ants."
"No matter what you are thinking about, don't think about it anymore. The Divine Halls will help you think. What you need to do is to carry out the will of Haotian."
This was the only thing Hengmu Liren said to the masters. Then he waved his hand indifferently and drove them away as if they were ants. Surrounded by dozens of divine priests and more Papal Cavalrymen of the West-Hill, he walked out of Yangguan City.
He came from the south with the mighty navy of South Jin and the powerful cavalrymen of the Divine Halls. The unstable Qinghe Prefecture was soon stabilized by his scornful attitude and killing intent. The young people who were hiding in the dark and were ready to cooperate with the Tangs were also killed or escaped by the deacons of the Divine Halls.
Now his sacred sedan had left Yangzhou City and was heading to the north.
Chang 'an was in that direction.
Chong Ming was also looking at Chang 'an, but from a different direction. Chang' an was in the west from Chengjing City, where the sun set.
He was no longer the Crown Prince Chongming who had been a hostage in Chang 'an for ten years. Instead, he was the high and mighty Emperor of the Yan Kingdom. However, his feelings for that city had not changed at all.
There was no nostalgia, no lament, only incomparable hatred and … fear.
Behind him, the Imperial Palace of the Yan Kingdom, which had been destroyed by the Tang Army several years ago, was being rebuilt. With the war reparations from the Tang Empire, beautiful palaces were being rebuilt from the ruins. At this time, the capital of the Yan Kingdom was in full swing. From the officials to the people, everyone was very proud.
But he was still afraid.
He had lived in Chang 'an for many years. He knew how powerful the Tang Empire was. He knew that the Tangs would never forget their hatred. He knew what Li Yu was thinking.
He also knew that if the Tang Empire really recovered, then the Yan Empire would not be able to resist their cavalry. The palace that had just been rebuilt behind him would become a ruin in a short period of time, and Lee Yu would definitely give him unforgettable revenge.
Three years ago, the Tang Empire rebuilt the Northeast Border Army. The General's Mansion was still located in Tuyang City. Compared to the past, there seemed to be no change. But Chongming knew that the newly built Northeast Border Army only had one goal, and that was to destroy the Yan Kingdom.
Chongming did not dare to hope that the Yan Kingdom could resist the Tang Army with its weak national strength. He could only pin his hopes on the West-Hill Divine Palace and his own brother.
Because of this, he disregarded the opposition of his subjects and firmly carried out the orders of the West-Hill Divine Palace. He searched the last of the food from his people's homes and kept sending it to the Wilderness, to the nobles of the Left King's Palace who had been enemies with him for generations.
Only when the cavalry of the Left King's Palace became stronger and stronger could they resist the Desolate Man's tribe further north. Only when the war broke out could they help the Yan Kingdom fight against the Tang Empire.
Chong Ming had thought that even if the East King's Palace could not become a threat to the Tang Empire in a short period of time, it could at least ensure that the Yan Kingdom could get rid of the shadow of the Desolate Man after he and his country had sacrificed so much. But who would have thought that the development of the situation would be far beyond his expectations.
Why? Why could the Desolate Man's tribe survive until now, when they had been destroyed by the Divine Hall Coalition Army a few years ago? And they even seemed to be slowly recovering their strength?
This was a question that troubled the Yan Kingdom's officials and made the Divine Hall extremely vigilant. As more information flowed back from the Wilderness, they got the answer that was closest to the truth.
There was a ghost.
A ghost was floating in the Wilderness. It was a small figure, but it was as terrifying as a devil. Neither the snow that filled the sky nor the yellow sand that devoured people could stop the ghost.
The High Priest of the Left King's Palace, who had the most powerful Dharma power, died tragically by the Crescent Sea two years ago. Then, several other priests died mysteriously. Until now, no priest dared to walk out of the palace.
Every once in a while, there would be horrible news of a cavalry squad being destroyed or a powerhouse in the army becoming a pile of flesh and blood from the depths of the grassland.
People kept dying on the grassland, including the powerhouses from the West-Hill Divine Palace who went to rescue them and the fallen commanders that Long Qing brought to the palace, could not get rid of the ghost's curse.
Until now, there was still no living person who had seen the true face of the ghost. But the West-Hill Divine Palace and the other countries had already confirmed who the ghost was.
The ghost was a devil.
Although she looked like a petite girl, she was undoubtedly the most terrifying and coldest devil in the world. She was not afraid to kill people. She killed people as if she was mowing grass.
Her name was Yu Lian, or Lin Wu.
She was Mr. Third of the Academy. She also had a more famous and more frightening identity. She was the current Grandmaster of the Devil's Doctrine, the most mysterious Twenty-Three-year Cicada Cultivation in the cultivation world.
Even after the spring wind and rain and the emergence of powerhouses in the cultivation world, no one believed that a cultivator could change the outcome of a war.
It was not until Yu Lian began to kill people in the Wilderness and she spent several years killing hundreds of powerhouses from Haotian Taoism that people gradually believed that such a thing really happened.
This was a matter that chilled one's heart.
Chong Ming was very disappointed, and so was his body. He subconsciously tightened his collar and looked away from Chang 'an City to the depths of the Wilderness. He found that it was even colder.
The wind came from the Wilderness. It was extremely cold, but there was a deep smell of blood in it.
…
…
It was also snowing in the extreme west of the Wilderness. The snow squeezed out from the lead-like heavy clouds and fell to the ground, gradually covering the messy footprints.
There were horse hooves and human footprints. There were so many footprints that it was impossible to see clearly. They spread forward in the Wilderness, and the sound of stepping on the snow seemed to tear the clouds apart.
In response to the summons of the Xuankong Temple, Chanyu of the Right Royal Palace ordered all tribes to form an expedition team of tens of thousands of cavalrymen. They braved the wind and snow to go to support.
The Buddhism sublime beings who once sat above the clouds and rarely paid attention to the affairs of the world had now fallen to the extent that they needed the help of ordinary believers. It was a little sad to think about it. However, the tens of thousands of cavalrymen might die in the wind and snow on the way. Who would pity them?
Some of the snowflakes fell on the ground of the Wilderness, and some fell under the ground. There was still a world under the ground. It was a dark Giant Sinkhole.
It was daytime, and the snow reflected the light. Logically, the world should be bright, or at least brighter than usual. However, the world at the bottom of the Giant Sinkhole was gloomier than usual. It was like the night, and the picture was very blurry.
The reason was that everywhere in the Wilderness of the underground world was burning. The highland barley fields that never froze because of the hot spring were ignited. The woods beside the streams were ignited. The waterwheel outside the Giant Sinkhole was ignited. The tents of the nobles were ignited. An inconspicuous monk temple at the foot of the Prajna Peak in the distance was gradually collapsing in the raging fire.
A single spark could start a prairie fire. The serfs' uprising in the underground world that started a few years ago finally spread to all tribes and could no longer be extinguished.
Beacon fires were everywhere in the Buddha Kingdom. These fires brought blazing heat, burned gorgeous gold wares, and brought dirty black smoke, covering the sacred yellow temples among the peaks.
The sounds of killing were everywhere in the Wilderness. These cries from the deepest part of the soul could overwhelm the pious chanting of sutras and ignore the call of the morning bell.
The beacon fires and the sounds of killing had not yet affected the giant peak transformed from the body of Buddha. The Treasure Mountain was unharmed, and the monks in the mountain had gradually become cold-hearted. That was why they ordered the Right Royal Court to rush to help.
The most important reason for this was that there was a ghost in the underground world. The ghost was the shadow of an iron sword, and it never stopped moving between the dirty and the sacred.
Jun Mo was fighting.
He had been injured, badly injured, but he never stopped waving the iron sword. He had been fighting for a long time without sleep and rest for several years.
He would not stop until he tore apart the Light of Buddha and led the people out of hell.
…
…
The capital of the Kingdom of Song was next to the sea. It was early winter, but it was still relatively warm. Snowflakes fell from the sky and would melt after being blown by the sea breeze. It was hard to attract people's attention.
Just like the man who was preaching in front of the square, he wore a very ordinary divine robe and held a West-Hill scripture. He was no different from an ordinary divine priest.
However, the content of his preaching was obviously different from that of the divine priests of the West-Hill Divine Palace.
Ye Su looked at the dense crowd of believers and said, "Each of us has sinned. We have committed different sins, so we need to … atone for our sins?"
"If we want to atone for our sins, should we pin our hopes on the Divine Kingdom or ourselves? The great Haotian will naturally respond to our call. But what have you and I ever done? "
"Don't say that you can't do anything. It's even more unimaginable that you can't change the world. The world is made up of countless of us. As long as we can change ourselves, we can actually change the world, and it's the most fundamental change."
"We are seeing a man change a war and a man change tens of thousands of years of injustice. So why can't we change the world and change ourselves?"
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