Heroes of the Fantasy World

Chapter 646: Hill of Swords

(1)

In a place that should have been grand and solemn, a rotten corpse was hung on the city gate.

It was filled with stench, filth and mosquitoes.

People tried to avoid it, but there were still special soldiers guarding the corpse day and night. I don't know whether they were guarding the corpse or the wooden sign hanging on the neck of the corpse - the traitor is dead, the great way is coming.

A few days ago, the long-lost "cult" suddenly appeared outside the city of Jinyang with the flag of Crown Prince Gao Yang raised. Moreover, the number of members in the cult was not just five as rumored. Now there were more than five thousand believers gathered outside the city!

Gao Yang was convicted of treason, and his body was exposed in the market after being poisoned. Of course, soon the people in the city knew that the dead Gao Yang was just a substitute, and the real Gao Yang was still alive, not only that, but he was hiding somewhere, dispatching troops to join forces with Yuwen Xuan, the prince of Zhou outside the pass, to break through Jinyang.

The Zhou army has successfully entered the pass, and most of the defenders along the way have surrendered. Within half a month, Jinyang will fall - Gao Yang's spies have already infiltrated the city and told everyone the news.

He did not give any orders to anyone, but just told everyone what was about to happen, leaving it to the people in the city to decide for themselves. Because of this, the city fell into chaos and everyone was in danger.

Killing the "fake Gao Yang" could only stabilize the situation temporarily, but before the outcome was decided, no one dared to act rashly. Therefore, the people did not go out during the day and did not light the lights at night, and the whole Jinyang became a desolate scene.

At the same time, the suburbs that should have been dead silent were actually full of singing and dancing. Every morning or evening, Murong Yan would lead everyone in chanting ballads. The sacred melodies were like nectar, nourishing those long-dried hearts.

That's right, countless Taiping Daoists chose to defect and join the sect. Most of them came from the Taiping Pagoda and had long forgotten where their hometown was.

In the early morning, Murong Yan's skinny limbs were like branches, and she stretched out her hands towards the rising sun to pray. People looked at her covered in bruises, but their hearts were inexplicably filled with comfort.

In the evening, the blue lights were lit around Murong Yan. On the low hillside, people yearned for that place and bowed their heads to confess.

Murong Yan gave up her "witch bloodline" and used a white lie to awaken countless lost people. Without the title of saint and only a broken body left, she instead attracted the respect of more people.

Once upon a time, crazy people were obsessed with the ancient Xianbei legend in order to obtain the blood of immortality. They fought and killed each other just to get the legendary things.

Now, the legendary person is standing right before their eyes, but they are told that all their previous madness was in vain. Most people would feel angry or remorseful at this time, but when they saw Murong Yan, everything was different, because Murong Yan told them that no one was wrong in this matter, and everyone could be forgiven, except Sima Tu.

"This legend is like a mirror. In the process of chasing, the other side of the mirror will slowly become yourself. Think about it carefully, is he really you?"

"Sima Tu just wanted to be the perfect self in the mirror, so he used lie after lie to beautify his actions, deceiving, torturing, and murdering, even if it meant implicating everyone in order to achieve his goal."

"Think about it carefully. The person in the mirror may just be a man-made virtual image. It has never existed and will never exist. Are you willing to give up your life just for something like this?"

Under the sunlight and in the moonlight, Murong Yan said day after day: both herself and Sima Tu were just ordinary people. However, the image that they were more well-known for was themselves in the mirror.

Murong Yan dared to admit this openly, because she had no ulterior motives and only hoped that everyone could be happy; but Sima Tu must never reveal the truth, as he had one and only one goal, which was to become himself in the mirror and become a true immortal.

Gradually, more and more people chose to follow Murong Yan. In fact, it was more accurate to say that they chose to follow their true selves rather than to follow her. More and more people realized that there was only one person in the "mirror" that Sima Tu created for them, and that was Sima Tu himself. No matter who looked in the mirror, they would see Sima Tu, and then their own consciousness would naturally follow and submit to the person in the mirror.

As the number of members of the cult grows, Bai Feng's confidence in winning grows day by day. However, many new graves inexplicably appear near the gathering place of the cult, and all the gravestones are swords. Is that the grave of swords?
A lone gravedigger buries a sword.

Bai Feng walked up to her and asked, "Are you, Ayu?"

"After not seeing you for so many years, you can still recognize me at a glance?"

Yuan Fengzi's adopted daughter, the nameless Ayu, her appearance was not unexpected. Bai Feng continued to ask: "A few days ago, I heard that a suspicious swordsmith came to the cult. He usually doesn't say a word and only forges swords all day long, but I have never seen these swords used. You know, the purpose of the cult here is not to start a war. In other words, we don't need swordsmiths."

A Yu's short body had become unusually sturdy due to years of hard work, with strong hands and feet, but she looked to be in her early twenties. She ignored Bai Feng's dissuasion and continued to bury the newly made sword.

"Including this sword, there are more than 200 graves." A Yu said to himself: "Of course I know you don't need me, so I never asked to take me in. But I need you!"

Bai Feng sighed: "Is it because of Fu Wentao's matter?"

"Don't kill him, bring him back, I promise I won't let him hurt anyone again." A Yu knelt down and begged, "I have nothing to repay you, I can only build a nameless sword hill for you, so that all the heroes who sacrificed their lives in this matter can leave their names in the world."

Bai Feng hesitated a little: "Fu Wentao is guilty of many crimes. He was once a friend, but he also harmed many people. Even if he comes back, he may not be the Fu Wentao you are familiar with. By then, can A Yu accept the reality?"

"If he still doesn't repent after returning to me, I am willing to hand him over and then commit suicide to atone for his crime." A Yu kowtowed several times, his face covered in dust and his eyes looked pitiful.

6◇9◇Book◇Bar

Bai Feng said: "Yan'er said that everyone can be forgiven, let alone Fu Wentao. He is still my friend now."

Sword tombs are scattered throughout the mountains, blending in with the layered hills, shady woods, morning glow and sunset.

Sword Hill is worthy of its name.

Bai Feng asked A Yu to stand up and asked gently, "Do you think we are heroes?"

"Hero Bai has already been a hero, but people like me and Fu Wentao are not worthy of him." After A Yu said this, tears finally fell from her eyes which had been filled with tears.

Bai Feng sneered and said, "Haha, I think we are all pathetic people. No matter how hard we struggle, we still can't escape this cycle of fighting for each other."

Soon, Murong Yan heard the news and came. It was the first time she saw this huge Sword Hill and she was deeply shocked: "Our existence will be remembered because of this Sword Hill."

"Lady Saint!" A Yu quickly lowered his head.

"Call me Yan'er." Murong Yan looked at A Yu with a smile: "You will definitely become a greater swordsmith than Senior Yuan Fengzi."

Bai Feng asked Murong Yan, "Yan'er, why don't you take a rest? You've been busy all day, and your lips are chapped. Did you forget to drink some water?"

Murong Yan looked at Bai Feng, her expression suddenly becoming serious: "Come with me, I have a feeling that this may be the last time I can tell fortunes for you and me."