The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

In fact, earlier, Yunefu had probably used the [Root of the Sand Sea] to transmit energy, causing resonance that killed the dried-up sea worm.

He wondered if these so-called "root systems" could also be used to construct any kind of magic array in alchemy, according to his ideas...

And now, it's like someone's offering you a pillow when you're sleepy.

Even though Yonivore's body was already somewhat exhausted, he still forced himself to keep his spirits up...

The roots beneath the sand spread and twisted, eventually forming a gigantic, ominous crimson pattern—the Collapse Array.

A warm sensation flowed from his nostrils...

is blood.

At this moment, he is not only the initiator of this magic array, but also its core...

The taboo backlash that blasphemed life was avoided by him at this moment by adopting an attitude of "not being able to choose"!

In this utterly terrible desert, there are impurities everywhere that can be killed and wiped out.

Those guards draped in golden "human blood," their eyes gleaming with greed, and those cultists chanting holy words, clinging to life.

Tsk, died so hastily...

They still got off easy.

The force of disintegration suddenly descended upon the entire canyon...

The yellow sand beneath their feet came alive, biting into the rough iron armor without hesitation, like man-eating ants that had been starving for a hundred years...

But the "ant" didn't break its mouthparts; instead, it gnawed even more vigorously!

The cavalryman's horse let out a mournful neigh, and somehow lost its limbs, its head plunging into the yellow sand, never to rise again.

The cavalryman panicked, seemingly wanting to scream for his comrades to retreat, but in the deathly silence, he seemed oblivious...

After the neighing of the warhorse, no sound came from the execution ground.

The sound also vanished, torn to shreds by the unstoppable, tangible blue-white gale.

His armor had long since been worn down to iron filings, which were casually blown away by a gust of wind and disappeared without a trace.

The rough sand scraped painfully against his bright red muscles, and as he sank into the quicksand, he tried to struggle...

He crawled out of the man-eating pit with his hands, which were already "bone-knuckled".

The scorching sun baked his eyeballs until they shriveled, but the pain intensified. The struggling "skeleton" kicked its legs desperately, slowly turning into nothingness.

How should I put this feeling?

It's like boiling ants in hot water, watching them struggle until they're scalded or drowned.

But this time, he felt no guilt at all.

Besides that caravan, and the old Sand King leaning against the stone wall, practically dead...

This "stopping the war with killing" returned all hostile lives to the embrace of Mother Nature.

Yunevo wiped away the blood streaming from his nose haphazardly, which only made his pale face look even more sinister. He waved to the anxious Iselia and walked straight to the old Sand King.

The heel of the boot ground firmly into the old Sand King's toes, the pain jolting the nearly collapsing man back to his senses.

"Spare me... spare me..."

"You shouldn't be saying that to me," Yonivo interrupted.

"Also, you're holding your head too high."

That chilling voice rang out again, and the old Sand King felt a surge of killing intent. He buried his face in the sand in a panic.

"That shouldn't be... You, who are so afraid of death, would still dare to take such a risk after being taught a lesson?" Yunefu raised his right foot and stomped the sand king's head into the sand again.

He turned around, took the contract that Iseria handed him—a soul contract with absolute binding force—and tossed it next to the old Sand King.

"Sign it, with the souls of all the relatives of the Zerharan royal family as collateral..." Yunefu's voice was not loud, but it echoed throughout the entire canyon for a long time. "From now on, Zerharan shall not interfere with the Golden Trade Route and all the interests of merchants under any pretext, nor shall it have any arbitrary dealings with the Church."

The Sand King slightly raised his head, straining his peripheral vision to scan the contents of the contract. His voice, mostly carried by the sand, sounded somewhat muffled: "My...my lord, I need a pen..."

Yunebu remained silent, but instead crushed one of the Sand King's fingers to powder, grinding the dried blood clots back into flowing crimson.

"Now that you have it, write it down."

How could Old Shah dare to say "no"? He disregarded the excruciating pain and wrote his name in scrawled, dog-like handwriting at the bottom of the contract.

The contract was established, transforming into two beams of light. One flew into Yunefu's hand, while the other disappeared straight into the Golden Trade Route.

Yunevo ignored the puppet-like figure and instead looked at the group of merchants rushing back, noticing their eyes filled with fear, but even more so with awe.

The merchants watched as a god-like figure manipulated quicksand, annihilating the entire army in an instant...

"God of Quicksand".

Finn, one of the merchants who had previously troubled the Sand Armor, had somehow crushed the Thorn Sun Emblem to pieces.

He knelt down, and the merchants knelt down too.

Just like the kneeling inhabitants of Zehrhalan when Yunevo and Iseria entered Zehrhalan.

"By the God of Quicksand, by the God of Gentle Wind..."

Yunevo turned to the side, shielding Iselia behind him, and pointed to the entrance of the canyon, the burial ground of the Sand Armor.

The traveling merchants staggered to their feet and jostled one by one to the tarnished helmet…

It shed the most extravagant tears in this desert.

The mournful cries from within the Sighing Canyon seemed to find a resonant chamber in the heart of Yonivore at this moment.

It's a bit sad...

That breath had been trapped in Yunefu's lungs for a long time before he finally exhaled it softly and slowly. By this time, he had reached the front of the caravan, taken over the load of the sand armor, and silently waited for the caravan to "regroup" and set off again.

The road to the city of miracles, Hart, was nearing its end; his hand rested on his chest, before his heart…

That fragment of "unextinguished firewood" was thumping.

The caravan members packed up and followed silently behind the two, their heads bowed in remorse.

Whether this scene was good or bad is for future generations to judge.

Presumably, this massacre will one day be revealed to the descendants of the surviving ancient church.

Then they are naturally "evil gods".

But under the witness of this moment, those descendants of merchants... will undoubtedly regard this black-robed and white-haired pair as the second eternal guardians of the Golden Trade Route after the Sand Armor.

Yunevo pinched his cheek, not turning around, but gazing at the sky, and asked slowly.

"Old friend, are you... satisfied?"

His response was a gentle breeze that seemed out of place in the desert.

At this moment, the helmet left behind by the sand armor also blossomed into a new flower.