Da Feng: From copying golden entries to becoming an immortal in the mortal world

Wei Yuan had long understood that he was no match for the Witch God.

He entered the headquarters of the Witch God Cult with the resolve to perish together with them—

We must carry out a complete and thorough Qing Dynasty campaign atop this sacred mountain!

In the eyes of the Witch God, Wei Yuan was nothing more than an ant that could be crushed at will.

But in Wei Yuan's eyes, weren't these cultists who aided and abetted the wicked just as worthless as weeds?

"I'm not afraid of death, so what's wrong with being unrestrained?"

"Even gods are nothing special!"

Before he could finish speaking...

Wei Yuan actually withstood the wrath of the Witch God with his own flesh and blood. His second-grade martial will exploded like a tsunami, sweeping across all directions without restraint.

Wherever they went, all the followers of the witch god were killed, leaving no trace of their bodies.

What he wants is to nuke everything here.

Even.

Among them were the martyrs of the Great Feng who had fought alongside him and had long since fallen in pools of blood!

When he saw the hundred-foot-tall black figure show anger because of his provocation.

Wei Yuan suddenly laughed.

His laughter was desolate, arrogant, and filled with the catharsis of forty years of blood feud.

However, the smile quickly froze on his face.

Wei Yuan fell silent, slowly turning his head, his gaze passing over the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood in front of him, landing on the battlefield not far away.

There, a few soldiers of the Great Feng Dynasty were still fighting bravely against the corrosive effects of the witch's aura, fearless of death.

There, the remains of soldiers were scattered everywhere, and their blood soaked the bluestone of Wushen Mountain, staining the surrounding wild grass red.

These soldiers who died in the land of the Witch God Sect, those veterans who were buried on the battlefield in the Battle of Shanhai Pass, they gave their lives and shed their blood, their bodies wrapped in horsehide, until their dying breath.

What they seek, in the final analysis, boils down to just four words: for the country and for the people.

[I, Wei Yuan, led them to this desperate situation to their deaths, wasn't it all for these four words?]

At the summit of the main altar of Wushen Mountain, a dark figure wearing a crown of thorns and flowers looked down from above, his divine might as well befitting a prison.

Those blurry yet majestic divine eyes looked down upon all living beings, upon even the smallest ants.

He stared coldly at Wei Yuan.

He slowly raised his hand and gently pressed down with one finger.

When the gods are angry, the world changes color, but what right do mortals have to truly understand this wrath?

To Him, Wei Yuan was nothing more than an ant that could be easily crushed with a single finger, no different from the weeds by the roadside.

"Click—click—"

A sharp, cracking sound of bones breaking suddenly rang out.

Before the witch god's attack had even truly landed, that immense and unparalleled divine power had already crushed Wei Yuan's bones to dust.

His spine suddenly bent down, as if it were being crushed by a towering mountain.

My neck is stiff, and I can no longer lift my head.

At this moment, Wei Yuan was like a piece of porcelain that was already full of cracks and about to fall apart.

Every inch of skin was bleeding, and every bone was groaning.

In a daze, a hallucination quietly crept in—

He seemed to see Nangong Qianrou's appearance when she broke through to the third rank of Undying Martial Artist.

That extraordinary aura, like the blazing sun in the sky, was unstoppable, rushing towards him with all its might;

In the blink of an eye, he seemed to hear sorrow and indignation coming from the direction of the capital.

Those were the helpless cries of millions of people after the First Rank Supreme had breached the city; they were the sorrowful shouts of the fallen land.

In the end, Wei Yuan died in a state of near-death chaos.

The image of Luo Chen's resolute and forceful words, urging him to risk his life to delay the arrival of a top-tier expert, echoed clearly in his ears.

"May everything be destroyed, may our horses trample Mount Wushen!"

In an instant.

A bright and clear light suddenly burst forth in Wei Yuan's dim eyes.

In that light, there was no fear, no despair, only an undying obsession and unwavering resolve.

Throughout my life, I have never revered gods, worshipped Buddhas, or believed in kings.

With the well-being of all people in mind, I will obey your command!

Wei Yuan straightened his posture little by little.

Even if all the bones in my body are shattered, even if my spine is broken, even if every movement causes excruciating pain.

What sustained him was never his formidable cultivation, but the belief etched into his very bones.

It was his original aspiration to serve the country and the people, and it was a command to delay at the cost of his life!

Wei Yuan is now on the verge of death. Hallucinations have clouded his senses, and his physical body is on the verge of collapse, like a fighting machine that has lost consciousness.

All his actions and all his perseverance were driven by an extraordinary will, and he steadfastly adhered to the last command he received before his death.

But reality is ultimately cruel—

How can broken legs support a body to stand? How can a broken spine support an unyielding chest?

Even with an iron will and an unyielding determination, a crippled body can never truly bear such resolve.

Just as Wei Yuan was about to collapse completely and his soul was about to vanish into nothingness.

A ray of holy light suddenly descended from the sky, like a spring breeze and gentle rain, softly covering his body.

It transformed into a scholar's robe in blue, slowly healing his injuries and barely keeping him alive.

This is the real reason why he has been able to hold on until now.

"A second-generation Confucian sage?!"

The shadowy figure of the sorcerer, wearing a crown of thorns and a black robe, suddenly sensed the familiar aura of a Confucian sage and immediately became alert.

There was also a hint of barely perceptible tension in his tone.

"Turns out he was a fake saint."

"With a mortal body, bearing the heroic spirit of the Confucian sage..."

"How long can you hold on?"

Before he could finish speaking...

A graceful figure descended from the blue sky, walking with ease and upright posture.

Luo Chen's body radiated a burst of holy light, like a blazing sun hanging in the sky, dispelling the black mist that filled the area within a radius of two hundred miles and illuminating the entire Witch God Mountain once again.

To bring this land shrouded in darkness back into the light.

It brought boundless vitality to every surviving soldier of the Great Feng Dynasty.

Luo Chen gazed at the dark figure amidst the thorns, smiled calmly, his tone composed yet carrying an undeniable air of dominance:

"Without breaking the seal, aren't you also a crippled god?"

"To deal with you—"

"By the mandate of heaven and the power of all living beings, I will crush your lingering shadow of a sorcerer!"

"Da Feng: From Copying Golden Entries to Becoming an Immortal in the Mortal World" is causing a reading frenzy on Cola Novels. Haven't you read it yet?