A kite was drifting in the sky.
In a remote corner, Wang Po wiped the mud from his face and squinted at the small mountain. He naturally recognized it as Xiao Zhang's kite.
Hadn't that kite been smashed on the walls of Xuelao City a few days ago?
A person had been tied to that kite before, but today, it was tied to a painting.
This painting was enormous, ten-some zhang wide and tall. It gently swayed in the wind like a wave of wheat, but the scenery on the canvas was unaffected and extremely clear.
Upon seeing this painting, the unfocused eyes of Divine General Fei Dian, who had just been revived by a Cinnabar Pill, gradually began to focus and sharpen.
Three elders of a grain convoy on the plains of the south narrowed their eyes at the same time as they recalled the past.
On the walls of Xuelao City, in the shadows of the hall, Black Robe's hands were hidden in her sleeves, a mocking smile on her lips.
They had all seen the scenery in the painting.
That extremely beautiful Sangharama Temple that could not exist in the mortal world.
The legacy of the Buddhist Sect had been severed for countless years.
The incense burning in Sangharama Temple had lasted for a very long time.
Until one thousand years ago, it was finally destroyed in the fires of war.
The demons invaded and Luoyang was besieged for three months. Only three out of ten people in the city survived, and the common people suffered grievous casualties. A total of sixty million people were killed.
Countless treasures of civilization like Sangharama Temple had been destroyed.
As the saying goes, romance is all lost in a single torch.
This painting depicted the burning of Sangharama Temple.
Very few people had seen Sangharama Temple with their own eyes, but many people had seen pictures of Sangharama Temple in books, and many people knew of its story.
As for the siege of Luoyang, it was a humiliation and misery that no human could ever forget.
The huge painting hanging in the sky was very well drawn. It was vivid and lifelike, as if it was real.
As they looked at the raging flames in the painting, the soldiers felt like they could hear the painful creaking of a building on the verge of collapse.
The faces of many people in the painting were pained, twisted, confused, numb. In the end, these people had all died, died in that fire.
Upon seeing this painting, the soldiers on the front lines once more understood a simple principle.
This was history.
This was the source of anger.
This was why they had appeared in front of Xuelao City.
… …
… …
As that painting and the information contained in it spread throughout the barracks, a conjecture also spread at the same time.
It was said that Art Saint Wu Daozi painted murals in Sangharama Temple all year round. Could this one have been painted by him?
Now, the entire continent knew that Daoist Wu was not dead, and that he was traveling the world with a certain someone.
If Daoist Wu was here, did that mean … that person was here as well?
Thinking that a legendary figure like Wang Zhice might show up at the frontline at any time, the morale of the human army was boosted.
In contrast, the morale of the Demon Race had suddenly plummeted, and the degree of improvement was even more exaggerated than on the Human Race side.
To the human armies, Shang Xingzhou and Wang Zhice had about the same influence. To the demons, it was completely different. They might not know who the current Human Emperor was, nor did they know Chen Changsheng. They might not know that Shang Xingzhou was the teacher of the Human Emperor and Chen Changsheng, but they definitely knew who Wang Zhice was.
…
…
At dusk.
The setting sun dyed Xuelao City in the west red.
Half of the city seemed to be on the verge of burning.
Suddenly, countless fanatical shouts rang out from the plains below and above the city walls.
These shouts sounded like Gu Lun Mu.
Many human soldiers could understand a few simple demon words, and they would never forget the meaning of this word.
When the demon soldiers madly attacked, wanting to trade their lives for their own, when they were surrounded on a mountain and finally committed suicide, they would all shout this word.
This word meant Divine Emperor.
The Demon Lord had finally appeared.
Chen Changsheng took the Monocle from Linghai Zhiwang's hands and gazed up at Xuelao City.
The air today was especially clean, and the light of the setting sun did not affect his vision, allowing him to just barely make out the scene on the walls.
Although it was rather blurry, Chen Changsheng still recognized that face he had not seen in many years.
Compared to when he was in White Emperor City, the Demon Lord was much more composed, his expression even more dignified.
When he saw the beard the Demon Lord had deliberately grown, Chen Changsheng thought of Tang Thirty-Six, and then he saw the Demon Lord's demon horns.
Logically speaking, the Demon Lord, as a member of the Imperial clan, should not have demon horns, but he had made two, and he had even decorated them to make them seem especially exaggerated.
It was obvious that this was a method to win the affection of the middle-and lower-class demons.
… …
… …
Shang Xingzhou had arrived.
The Demon Lord had appeared.
This meant that the final battle was about to begin.
To the demons, bitterly defending Xuelao City until winter came was naturally the best method. But they had no way of resolving the problem of provisions. This was exactly the same situation that Luoyang had faced. Even if they massacred the people and did their best to reduce the non-military population, they still had no way of resolving the rations for the hundreds of thousands of tribal warriors outside the city.
Moreover, the human armies would not leave behind any of the bodies of their comrades.
Time, place, and people were at peace. It seemed that the demons had the geographical advantage while the humans had the human advantage. As for the time …
The recent snowfall seemed to indicate that the Heavenly Dao favored the demons, but the time for the final battle was decided by the humans.
So who would obtain the final victory in this war?
… …
… …
It was another early morning.
The plains outside Xuelao City were so quiet that it seemed like it had not awoken.
The sound of a horn suddenly rang out.
Thus, the entire world awoke.
All life in this world had been waiting for this moment.
Perhaps no one had truly been able to sleep last night.
The wolf cavalry, the main force of the Demon race, fiercely attacked the human Eastern Army.
The black soil of the plains was thrown into the air and rained down. The sounds of weapons clashing, grunts, and wretched howls could be heard everywhere, as well as the sounds of arrays being activated.
The Eastern Army arduously withstood the tidal wave of attacks from the demons, finally obtaining a rare period of free time in the afternoon.
The main camp issued an urgent order to the front lines, requesting that the troops at the very front retreat as quickly as possible and rotate with the reserve cavalry.
Arrows danced through the air, suppressing the enemy pikemen and providing cover for their own side.
All the processes were proceeding in an orderly manner, but there was a problem somewhere.
The North Third Camp, which had been at the very front since the start of the battle, refused to retreat.
Because Guan Feibai refused to listen to military orders.
He was not the commander of the North Third Camp, but he was a disciple of the Mount Li Sword Sect, the strongest member of the army.
Back then, he and his two junior brothers had risked their lives to charge up the cliff and were the first to reach Xuelao City.
The entire North Third Camp now only listened to Guan Feibai.
Guan Feibai was not willing to retreat for a very simple reason.
His junior brother Liang Banhu had died, and Guan Bai had also died to save them.
His eyes were already red from the slaughter.
At the most tense moment, accompanied by the cry of a crane, Xu You Rong arrived at the scene.
Guan Feibai gripped his sword and narrowed his eyes at her. His voice was hoarse and low to the extreme, like that of a wild beast that had not drunk water for many days.
"Junior Sister, don't try to persuade me."
His narrowed eyes were a sea of blood.
Xu Yourong knew that while he seemed rational and spoke in an orderly manner, he had already gone mad and could not be persuaded.
"I remember that Senior Brother Qiushan should have prepared a silk bag for all of you."
Xu Yourong looked into his eyes and said, "You should open it and take a look."
… …
… …
(Mother will begin her next course of chemotherapy tomorrow. I hope that everything goes smoothly. I will definitely have less time to write in the coming period, but there's no need to worry. I've already accumulated a few manuscripts in the last ten days. I will do my best to constantly update them, and it seems that I should be able to do so. Thank you, everyone.) (To be continued. If you like this work, I welcome you to come to Qidian () to cast a recommendation vote or a monthly vote. Your support is my greatest motivation. Mobile users, please go to M.)
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