You said you would practice martial arts. Have you mastered the Tiangang Dharma?

Chapter 512: Kill the Evil Tribe Again
On the way to Guixu, Qiu saw a desolate landscape stretching to the horizon. The ancient stone bridge spanned the dry riverbed, and the heavy sense of history seemed to tell of the past glory. The alleys around had long lost their former bustle, with only a few stray cats looking for food in the corners.

The sky was gloomy and covered with dark clouds, as if it would rain at any time. In the sparse woods in the distance, a few birds chirped occasionally, but soon fell silent. The bluestone slabs on the ground were eroded by wind and sand, becoming mottled. An oil-paper umbrella lay quietly on the side of the road, and the rain marks on the umbrella had long dried up, becoming a witness to time.

The pavilions and towers in the empty town seem particularly abrupt in this desolate place. They still retain their quaint style, but no one appreciates them and they can only be accompanied by loneliness. The long corridors are winding, the flowers and trees are lush, the lakes and mountains are beautiful, and the sound of reading books that were once there for who knows how many years ago, now only the whistling of the wind and the rustling of fallen leaves remain.

Small bridges, flowing water and houses - this should be a cozy scene, but now there is only a lonely small bridge left and the water has long dried up. The prosperity of the past is now just a dream.

In the deep alleys of the ancient capital, where demons once lived, mottled moss and echoes of history linger. The bells in the bell tower have stopped ringing, and the traces of time are clearly visible on the carved stone walls. The broken ancient city walls tell of the former glory and honor.

Some places that were once crowded with tourists are now desolate. The white pagoda is isolated, the octagonal pavilion is silent, and the lake is dry. The flowers that were once in bloom can now only be found in the memories of passers-by.

Some places that should have been small towns and settlements, where the roads were once bustling with traffic, are now only straight, curved, and winding roads. The hutongs are filled with an air of decay, and the alleys that once were narrow are now only crisscrossed by the wind.

The sculptures and stone carvings seem extremely lonely in this desolate place. Sand sculptures, bronze sculptures, wood sculptures, and stone sculptures, which were once works of art in people's eyes, can only silently endure the erosion of wind and sand now.

It was like a world after the apocalypse, a desolate place. Earthquakes, thunder and lightning, wind and rain, floods and fires, frost and snow, tsunamis, sandstorms, droughts, heat waves, famines, all kinds of disasters have changed the world beyond recognition. The once prosperous world is now only a ruin.

Yes, this is the Southern Wilderness. Aqiu has walked a long way and all he saw was scenery like this. It is rare for him to come across a decent gathering place. A place like Nether City is rare, but it can be seen that it must be a large settlement in the Southern Wilderness. Fortunately, he did not act rashly at the time, but chose to go to Guixu to take a look and learn some methods to improve his strength. After all, opportunities need to be fought for by oneself.

Unfortunately, the road was not smooth, and places like the castle were hard to see. He just kept walking until now.
Deep in the deep and dark forest, an ancient and mysterious demon tribe was discovered. Everything here is immersed in a primitive and simple atmosphere. Tall trees stand tall, and lush branches and leaves are intertwined, like a natural barrier, isolating the noise from the outside world.

When you enter the tribe, the first thing you see is the houses built with stones and wood. They are rough and solid, revealing a wild beauty. Wind chimes are hung on the eaves, swaying gently in the breeze, making crisp and pleasant sounds. In the center of the tribe is a huge stone platform, on which are placed various sacrificial utensils and flowers, and the air is filled with the rich smell of spices.

The demons wear colorful and varied costumes made of animal skins and feathers. They are painted with mysterious totems, each with a different meaning. The demons smile, with a peaceful and tranquil look in their eyes, but when they need it, they can burst out with amazing power.

Life in the tribe is in good order, with hunting, gathering, sacrifice and other activities going on in an orderly manner. Children play and chase each other among the trees, while the elders tell ancient legends by the fire. When night falls, the demons dance happily around the bonfire, with the flames reflecting their joyful faces, and the whole tribe is immersed in joy and peace.

However, this peaceful home is not without enemies. At the edge of the forest, the roar of wild beasts and the clamor of hostile tribes can often be heard. The demons know that they must always be vigilant to protect their homes from any invasion.

In this forgotten land, the Yaozu tribe quietly guards its way of life, living in harmony with the world, yet full of vitality and vigor. Here, time seems to have frozen, and the long river of history seems to have slowed down, allowing people to forget the troubles of the world and purify their souls.

Aqiu communicated with the leader and got permission to live here, so he stayed overnight. Coincidentally, there would be a sacrifice in the tribe tonight.

In the twilight, a row of heavy iron cages stood in a deserted square. The coldness of the chains contrasted sharply with the warmth of their skin. The slaves huddled in the cages, their eyes empty and hopeless. Their clothes were tattered, covered with dust and blood, and their bodies were covered with scars, traces of whipping and humiliation. The slaves had dishevelled hair and haggard faces, as if they had been deprived of all vitality by the years.

Outside the cage, rude guards patrolled with long sticks in their hands. Every heavy step they took seemed to remind the people in the cage of their lost freedom. The slaves occasionally groaned, but were mostly silent, so silent that it was heartbreaking. Their hands, once used to farm, build, and even wield weapons, now could only hang helplessly in the cage.

Occasionally, some slaves tried to struggle, but it was a futile resistance, the iron cage was unbreakable. Their voices were drowned out by the silent tears of other slaves, no one could hear their cries, and even if they could, what would it do? In this dark era, the fate of slaves was like a stone abandoned in the abyss, sinking and hopeless.

They are the most practical sacrifices to the evil god and can bring hope to the tribe. Life is the most useful wealth.

However, among this group of forgotten souls, there is still a pair of eyes that flashes with unyielding light. That is Aqiu who witnessed all this. His eyes are firm and deep, as if he is drawing a blueprint for the massacre in his mind. The corners of his mouth sank, and he recalled the desperate scene when his family was all sacrificed to the evil god. He still has a little unknown murderous intent in his heart.

As night fell, the cold wind began to rage in the square. The slaves huddled together, trying to draw a little warmth from each other's body temperature. The lights in the distance were dim, like distant stars, unable to illuminate their fate. In this cold world, the only thing they could rely on was each other's company and the insignificant light of hope.

In this forest tribe, a solemn sacrificial ceremony is slowly unfolding. A vague illusion is being constructed, as if to lead everyone back to an era so far away that it is not the same time and space.

It can be seen that in the forest, on the stone bridge, mottled with moss, the quaint stone road is soaked in the mist and rain, appearing slippery and quiet. The black-sailed boats that came out of nowhere swayed gently in the stream, and the boatmen, wearing simple straw raincoats, rowed silently, as if they were afraid of disturbing this sacred moment. From the depths of the strange alleys, bursts of minor tunes came, the melody was melodious and mournful, accompanied by the echoes of ancient operas, interweaving into a touching picture. It can be said that the pavilions and towers of the Jiangnan water town are looming in the mist and rain, and the winding corridors are like secret passages leading to another time and space. Among the lush flowers and trees, the lakes and mountains are gently shaded by the drizzle, like a faint ink painting.

The sound of reading can be heard faintly from the classrooms. Students hold oil-paper umbrellas and walk on the bluestone slabs. Their steps are steady and full of vigor. The sculptures and stone carvings in various shapes and forms appear more vivid in the rain, and the lifelike patterns seem to be telling stories of the past.

At this moment, in the center of the misty garden, the priest was wearing a scarlet robe and a tall crown. His face was solemn, and he held a jade instrument in his hand. He walked slowly towards the altar in the center, and each step seemed extremely heavy. With his footsteps, the air around him seemed to become heavy, and the branches and leaves of the towering ancient trees rustled in the wind, as if telling the passage of time.

The sacrificial ceremony began, with incense curling around the air and the priest chanting ancient spells in a low voice, his voice containing thousands of years of accumulation. The believers around him knelt on the ground, their faces full of piety and awe. The air was filled with a mysterious and solemn atmosphere, as if it could bring people's hearts into an extraordinary realm.

As the sacrifice progressed, the dark clouds in the sky gradually dissipated, and rays of sunlight penetrated the clouds and sprinkled on this ancient land. The golden light and the incense intertwined to create a sacred and dreamy scene. The priest raised his hands high, saluted the sky, and prayed for the protection and blessings of the gods.

The whole dreamlike waterside garden became exceptionally quiet at this moment, with only the voice of the priest and the sunlight dancing in the air. People closed their eyes, feeling the grace from heaven, and their hearts were filled with beautiful expectations for the future. When the sacrifice reached an important moment, the believers slowly stood up, smiled, nodded to each other, and passed on this sacred blessing to each other.

The waterside gardens have returned to their former tranquility, the cruise ships continue to move slowly on the river, the tunes deep in the alleys are heard again, and the ancient operas continue to be performed in the teahouses. But in this ancient and quaint world, people's awe and faith in the gods will never dissipate.

Aqiu was hiding in the darkness and watching all this. He felt goosebumps all over his body. He had never seen such a weird sacrifice before. This tribe was much weirder than he had imagined!

On that ancient altar, the fate of the slaves was like a candle in the wind, swaying. The first rays of dawn shone on the bluestone altar, which was located in the center of an open square, surrounded by a dense crowd, their eyes like sharp arrows, shooting at the scene that was about to happen.

The slaves were roughly tied up, their hands and feet were wearing heavy chains, dragging on the stone floor, making a harsh sound. They lowered their heads, their long hair covered their eyes, but from their clenched teeth and slightly trembling shoulders, one could see their inner fear and anger. Their clothes were tattered, and their skin was covered with scars, which were all marks of cruel treatment in the past years.

In front of the altar stood a priest in a scarlet robe, holding a burning incense burner. The smoke was thick and the aroma was fragrant, but it could not cover up the bloodshed that was about to happen. The priest's face was serious, and his eyes flashed with piety to the gods and desire for power.

As the drums sounded, the slaves were forced to kneel in the center of the altar, their eyes facing the tall statue of the evil god, which was the theme of this sacrifice, an evil god who was said to have great power. Despair surged in the hearts of the slaves, they knew that their lives would end at this moment, and they would become sacrifices favored by the gods.

The crowd around them began to chant prayers, their voices merged into one, shaking the earth. The slaves felt their breathing become rapid, and every heartbeat seemed to be counting down to their own death. The priest looked at the slaves and drew complex spells on the ground with cinnabar. These spells seemed to lock the slaves' life and death, making it impossible for them to escape.

Finally, the priest raised the sharp blade in his hand, ready to perform the final ritual. The slaves' eyes suddenly became firm, knowing that they had to maintain their dignity even in death. It seemed that in full view of everyone, the blade would fall, and the slaves' lives would merge with the blood on the altar.

But
The night was as dark as ink, the altar was brightly lit, and Qiu was like a ghost in the night, with determination and firmness in his eyes. He held the prepared sword, the blade reflected the cold light under the light, and rushed out from the darkness.

The sound of drums in the dark night surrounded us, and each beat seemed to be the beginning of the upcoming battle.

Under the altar, enemies surged in like a tide, their eyes full of greed and cruelty. It was obvious that they had already planned to sacrifice Aqiu, and they had no good intentions at all to take him in. Although they were a little surprised at Aqiu's sudden rush out, it could not change their nature of liking to sacrifice others.

Ah Qiu did not retreat at all, his steps were steady and powerful, every step he took was to step on the enemy's fear and anxiety. Wherever the sword pointed, there was endless killing and bloody storm.

The sword shadows danced, accompanying his every breath and heartbeat. He seemed to be integrated with the battlefield, and every swing of the sword was as smooth as the most natural movement between heaven and earth. Blood splattered, blooming with cruel beauty in the firelight.

The shouts of the enemies faded away, and the moment of being pierced by the sword was frozen in time. Qiu's figure was looming in the firelight, and there was no extra expression on his face, only the desire for victory and contempt for death. His sword seemed to be able to hear the wailing of the dead souls, guiding him to shuttle through the enemy camp.

Finally, under the gazes of countless slaves, Aqiu killed his way through the entire tribe, beheaded the priests and leaders, stood at the highest point of the altar, looked around, and saw corpses everywhere. No one could stop his edge.

His sword trembled slightly, as if telling the end of a life-and-death battle. The night wind blew, and only the firelight and the sword shadow witnessed this heroic battle.

At the foot of the evil god statue, a petite slave girl's eyes glowed like candlelight.
(End of this chapter)