Shadow of the Evil God

"The city lord's feet have taken root in the altar beneath the castle like tree roots. Those roots look like blood vessels, and the entire underground of the castle... they are all like part of his body tissue. The Sean walking outside now is just a dummy, like a furnace cinder."

"Hormonks..." Cesar tapped the corpse-eater's skull with his fingers. He had always felt that old Sean's pursuits were far removed from the mundane. Because they were so far removed, he had even unintentionally created a glorious commercial city. But this was actually just a byproduct of old Sean's true pursuits.

Old Thane has strayed further and further down a path of no return. He's taken root in the earth, a place filled with evil creatures and altars, like a tree. His veins spread outward, like roots, through the castle's subterranean realm, until the entire subterranean area has become part of his body. What then? Will he spread outward, attracting the attention of the gods, or continue his exploration inward, hiding all the dark secrets beneath the castle?

He was not yet qualified to reveal Old Thane's secrets and, inevitably, his own. This qualification would have to wait until multiple temples deemed him indispensable and unconditionally defended his identity.

"So why is this scene not what you expected?" Cesar asked.

"According to tradition, a self-sacrificing prophet should have discussed the revelations of the True God with us, telling us what each tribe should do and the rituals each tribe should complete. But when we arrived in Noyen, I discovered that the city lord was half-mad. He single-handedly performed all the rituals that should have been performed by all of our tribes separately."

"all......"

"Because he did everything, endured all the costs, and completed all the rituals that should have been completed by each tribe separately, we

"All..." the corpse-eater's voice hissed. "Each of our tribes can only obey his orders and stay in the southernmost frozen plains and the northern coast as he demands. The costs would be very troublesome for the shamans of each tribe individually, but falling on him alone has already caused unprecedented horrors. This has never happened in the past. He... his existence is changing, and no one knows what he will become."

"The matter of Sean is still too far away." Cesar said, "Let's go back to Blood and Bones. Why did Blood and Bones explore the Tomb of the Wise? What does it have to do with Sean? What does it have to do with Blood and Bones himself?"

"This is what I suspect most," the Corpse Eater said. "City Lord Thane has become obsessed with his rituals. I think he... he doesn't want anything to go wrong at this juncture. So many Beastmen have seen him, yet the order of Noyen is still functioning as usual. Not only did we not spread death everywhere like we did when we went south, we were also asked to leave a few of our people behind in the city, maintaining order for him and searching for spies in human guise."

Cesar raised his eyebrows. "You mean, Blood and Bone is acting on his own? Because of what? Because of that great knowledge?"

"I feel that Bloodbone has been listening," it said, its claws trembling slightly. "It was listening for some voices that I can't hear, listening for the instructions of some unknown thing, and then it decided to come to this place. I don't know what that voice is, but it must not be the voice of the True God. I am the shaman of my tribe. It is impossible for me not to hear the voice of the True God, so it must not be that."

Cesar looked at the trickster prophet, but she simply held out her hands. "I'm only a fragmented, incomplete part," she said. "But the closer we get to the end, the clearer my memory becomes. If you lead me there, I can answer your questions."

"At least give me a vague impression," said Cesar.

"That year, something unspeakable did indeed leave the end of the grave, but it wasn't me, nor the wise man who wanted to be the sole consciousness," the deceiver prophet mused. "It must be most closely related to Iskrig—the last prince sealed something unspeakable within, and then fled in a hurry. I don't know what it is, but from all the signs so far, it seems to be related to the ideological plague in the Kasar Empire and the madness of the last king of the Kuna people."

"I've always thought the Thought Plague was a natural disaster," Cesar frowned. "A natural disaster means there's no subjective will to wield it like a sword. Even the wizard who first caused the Thought Plague couldn't control it. But what if, as the wise men say, there's only one consciousness in this world, and all self-proclaimed independent consciousnesses are its branches? What if the Thought Plague not only infects the branches, but also spreads deeper..."

"Interesting, isn't it?" The deceitful prophet smiled, appearing indifferent. "According to you, this ideological plague can infect everyone, whether they are Kuna, Franks, Beastmen, or the various ethnic groups in the Kasar Empire. But it can't infect you and me."

A true dragon outside of time and a demon outside of the world... Cesar thought, was Bloodbone a victim of the plague of thought? Was there really an unspeakable being whispering to it, telling it to listen to that voice and come to the tomb of the wise?

Chapter 468: Haven’t You Had Enough of Cesar?

"Don't be so indifferent here, Prophet." Cesar put away the spikes he had used to chisel the skull. "Regardless of whether the Thought Plague can infect you, Bloodbone has already taken away a bunch of ancestors and a new tribe to explore the Tomb of the Wise. I assume it's for either you or the collective consciousness of the Kuna people. If I were Bloodbone, even if my goal was the latter, I wouldn't mind sending you on your way."

"You wanted to send me off, Cesar, I understand," the deceitful prophet said with a smile. "But you must have expected too much of me and been too wary of me. Didn't that ancient story convey to you the beauty of hope and salvation? From a shattered world filled with the abyss to a paradise filled with living creatures, from endless despair to a glimmer of hope, from ignorance to the enlightenment of wisdom. Even if I didn't do all of these things, it must have been me."

"I don't want to conclude that you are a perfect mother and guide just because the wise man later went mad."

"Oh, is that so? Then go ask the wise man, dear, if you can really find out anything."

"I'll ask," Cesar said, throwing the corpse-eater away. "Whether it's about you and the wise man, or the corpse-eater and the plague of thought, it all needs a conclusion."

......

"Isn't this destination a bit too horrifying?" Sevra stood on the hill of corpses and gazed into the distance. A true abyssal chasm stretched across the end of the tomb. Although this abyss was smaller than the Sanctuary Abyss, spanning the same width as a town, the sense of terror brought by the surging undercurrent was always there, lingering like an echo in the tomb leading to the abyss.

There is deep darkness on both sides of the rift, which is endless. The dome of the tomb cannot be seen upwards. There are only a few suspension bridges connecting the tomb paved with stone bricks on this side to the dark and mysterious sealed place on the other side, making people feel like they are in the veil of death.

It would be fine if it was just darkness over there, but with the help of the third field of vision, Sephora clearly saw many strange colors beyond human vision spreading like fog, sparsely scattered at the end point opposite the abyss rift.

She saw a massive wall, as boundless as the abyssal chasm beyond. From the base of the wall upwards, every block where bricks should have been was filled with Kuna, thousands, tens of thousands, just from what she could see.

Because of the Guna's features, Sefula could distinguish children, adults, and the elderly, but not men and women. Here was a young woman with her chest exposed. She vaguely looked female, but from her chest down she lost her form, transformed into a group of soft, snake-like tentacles.

The ends of the woman's tentacles clung to each other, resembling pale coral. At arm's length to the right, they transformed into pink intestines, connected to the heads of three babies, each with its face glued together, forming a stable triangular structure. Between the woman's upper body and the babies' heads, the pink intestines tangled in spirals, dangling downward, becoming increasingly tangled until they formed a bright red brain, connected to a young Kuna man with his head exposed.

The young man's body was pale and thin, with skin covering only his face and upper body. From his chest down it was almost entirely pink muscle bundles.

The connection between people seemed endless. Sevra looked down again and saw five human faces crammed into the youth's gutless abdomen. Descending from the parallel faces was not the youth's lower body, but a dozen or so human upper bodies tangled and twisted like silk threads. More than twenty slender arms stretched outward, like a pale tree canopy, and from the end of each arm extended more incredible Kuna people.

It is impossible to count how many Kuna people are connected to each other, and how many strange and inexplicable ways there are of connection. Every Kuna person is still alive, and not only alive, but also shows a strange peace and tranquility on his face, as if this is the most perfect end of life.

Sephora had been wondering why the bodies in the tomb had taken root, but now, seeing this huge wall, she felt that it was all due to the Tomb of the Wise and the magic of the Kuna people.

Because of the narrow drawbridge over the abyss, and because torches occasionally reflected eerie figures on the massive wall beyond, the battle line that had advanced here fell into a strange stalemate. The knights stared at the destination they had failed to reach, seemingly unaware that Mirava had been there before, and ultimately retreated.

Is this the path the Beastmen dug out now? It looks like it.

Ajehe pulled Gouzi over and listened as she whispered about Cesar's situation. Cesar's observations soon confirmed her own. The creatures digging along the abandoned empire's roads to their end weren't just any other Beastmen, but the most familiar Corpse Eaters, their leader, Bloodbone.

The beastmen walked into the Tomb of the Wise along the corridor dug by the Frank Empire. Now the knights of the Frank Empire followed the corridor dug by the beastmen to reach the sealed place. Thinking of this, she actually tasted a hint of the flavor of succession.

Sephora thought of the last remnants of the Kuna, exiled to the Endless Steppes. He listened only to their stories: the Tomb of the Wise was an ancient sacred place. They claimed it had witnessed the entire Kuna dynasty and the earliest days of this land, but even so, it could not resist the passage of time and had declined hundreds of years before they were born.

At that time, she felt that the dynasty had collapsed, the tribe had disappeared, and the ancient city had turned into a pile of rotting stones.

No matter how sacred a tomb may be, it will eventually become nothing more than ruins. Even the living Kuna will flee into the grasslands, becoming decrepit old men who appear youthful and handsome but are actually old and frail. What about the ruins of the dead?

But she was wrong. The Kuna were no ordinary people. Now she could fully understand that. The words the wise man had spoken through the mouth of Jiralo had been somewhat vague. Now, seeing this massive wall made of Kuna people, she finally understood the significance of this people.

Some things need to be witnessed with your own eyes...

The interconnected Kuna were like neurons, their identities lost within the massive wall. Yet, their faces betrayed no pain, only an endless peace and tranquility. This invisible emotion gradually accumulated, seemingly becoming tangible, like a dark cloud oppressing the two warring factions before the abyss.

The tomb was clearly strewn with corpses. Beastmen and Franks slaughtered without regard for life or death, their battle lines ripping back and forth like the teeth of a saw. The ground beneath their feet was no longer brick and stone, but shattered bodies floating in the sticky blood swamp. The clung-together remains resembled rotting wood, and the intertwined broken arms resembled lush branches and leaves, forming a boundless blood-red forest within the swamp. If a single person walked through the blood swamp, it would be difficult to stand on their own two feet.

But just as this frantic battle line reached the edge of the abyss, the world suddenly fell silent. An unbearable pressure descended from the massive wall, growing heavier and heavier, slowly crushing all the humans and beasts on the battlefield.

In the silence, Sevra could even hear her own heartbeat. She pondered the strangeness, examining the two silent tribes. She found the silence eerie, yet unbreakable. The more silent it became, the more terrifying the peace and tranquility grew, oppressing everyone and every beast alike.

But suddenly, in this boundless silence, a deafening, heart-wrenching howl of a beast rang out. Sevra clearly heard the voice saying, "The True God has sent us into this world to tear apart the chains, rekindle the fire, and flood the earth with life and disputes. Let us commit all kinds of unimaginable madness! Experience all kinds of unimaginable desires in the world!"

The silence suddenly broke. The beastmen, as if remembering their mission, gathered and howled. The boundless wall trembled, as if the peace was about to end and collapse. At first, Sevra thought the roaring beastmen were blood and bones, but then he saw a giant snake soaring in the dark sky and immediately realized it was the ancestor of the snake walkers.

It seems that this snake ate all the other ancestors it had mated with. Whether it was because the other ancestors were too weak or for any other reason, it and the clan it bred have gathered unimaginable vitality.

At that moment, the ancestor of the snake walkers floated in front of the giant wall, and it seemed that the beastmen were also blocked outside the giant wall by the boundless pressure, and they were blocked for a long, long time. But the moment it roared, these evil creatures born from the corpses of Kuna people and beasts suddenly found the meaning of their lives.

This was not a speech, but an accusation, cursing the sins committed by the Kuna people for thousands of years, and claiming that the Beastmen came to end this sinful peace and tranquility.

The ancestor of the Snake Walkers seemed to have been accumulating strength for a very long time. Suddenly, with his words, he firmly grasped these beastmen from various tribes of memories, history, and reality, and pushed them to attack the giant wall. They began to tear and rip apart the connected Kuna people, like a storm sweeping through the forest, tearing apart the branches and leaves, and rushed towards the other side of the giant wall like a madman.

The frenzied beastmen abandoned their rearguard positions, no longer blocking the Frankish knights. Instead, they charged forward, charging the immense wall of Kuna. As the wall surged like a tidal wave, the interconnected Kuna people tossed and turned in the surge, their burdened emotions shattered in an instant.

Sevra felt a cloud of peace and tranquility mingled with a frenzied thirst for blood, brutality, and anything extreme. As this sentiment permeated the Frankish knights, they too grew frantic. It was undeniable that the Franks, caught between the extremes of the Kuna and the Beastmen, felt a sense of resentment, being bullied by both.

The knights began to rush towards the drawbridge, advancing with giant shields enchanted with spells. However, unlike the infected beastmen, there were many beastmen who were not from the residual memories, observing the entire battlefield from the side.

Through her third vision—she'd been using it more and more recently—Sevra saw small, slithering creatures in the air. Some had wings, some were ethereal, some could only wander about the ground, looking like giant lizards and pythons, while others could float in the air like fish swimming in the sea.

At first glance, the figures floating high in the sky appeared tall and elegant, clad in the rusted armor of the Frankish Empire. They stood out in the third person's field of vision, but the hissing sounds and rustling scales beneath the armor betrayed a sense of strangeness. At this moment, no one, save Cesar, who spared even scaly beasts, would be uneasy. Could this guy have conjured a female snake from his residual memories?

At first, Sevra thought the Beastmen were going deep into the Tomb of the Wise simply to retrieve the lost First Ancestor. Later, Sevra discovered that the Ghouls' Blood and Bones weren't after the First Ancestor. But now, seeing this legion, she felt the First Ancestor was of particular significance. If this tribe were to flourish, it would surely shake up more than just the war zone.

These ones

The Snake Walker is examining the Frankish knights who are charging the drawbridge.

"I'm curious, if I hadn't been picked up by Allandi, would I have eaten it or it would have eaten me." Ajehe suddenly said.

"Haven't you had enough of Cesar?" Severa retorted.

"Well, this guy Cesar is incredibly delicious," Ajeh said. "Besides, judging by my experience, something spectacular is about to happen."

Sevra was about to speak when she saw the Snake Walker take something bloody and metallic from the shadows on the ground. Then she discovered a flesh puppet of the Corpse Eater hidden on the ground. The Corpse Eater Shaman was transferring some huge, long spikes from the puppet to the Snake Walker. They looked like giant crossbow bolts from a ballista, more than a man tall.

"How many knights do you think a metal spear thrown from mid-air can pierce?" Ajiehe asked, adding fuel to the fire.

"A person who wants to rush across these suspension bridges will have to die at least a dozen times..." Sephora stared at the snake walkers gradually flying into the sky. "I don't want to be a bridge rusher. Let's try another direction. Also, ask Cesar what's going on."

......

"Stop digging, the road is this way!" The corpse-eating shaman began to scream again, pointing out the way with the most sincere voice it could make. Cesar continued to move forward carrying the corpse-eating shaman, and the monitor lizard followed him calmly with the liar prophet who didn't want to walk.

The Snake Walker's arms can stretch endlessly while intangible, accumulating a force that defies the laws of reality, then restore them the instant they become physical, unleashing all that stored power—like a bowstring stretched to an immense distance. They can launch massive metal spears from high altitude like cannonballs.

These beastmen stared at the suspension bridge in mid-air and threw their spears, which could pierce through an entire row of knight cans at a time, making a huge tearing echo and plunging them straight into the abyss from the bridge.

The Snake Walkers, along with the constantly dying and reappearing Beastmen, had formed a mutually reinforcing, iron-clad front, firmly blocking the Imperial Knights, who had reached their final point, on the other side of the abyss. If it weren't for these Imperial Knights, who also cared little for life and death and constantly replenished the front line to act as bridge-breakers, no one would have dared to cross the bridge long ago.

"Bridgeman," Cesar thought, "this is a dangerous job. No knight of status or standing would want to do it."

However, in his time, he had heard of a legendary knight who was very skilled at this task, and was also a nobleman. The person who was it was, of course, his good niece, Isley. Isley was either a psychopath, keen on seeing people die all over the ground and then be pieced together, or she lived in a sick family, and had to die all over the ground and then be pieced together.

"The battle is getting a bit stalemate..." Milawa suddenly said, "I need to think about it."

"Did you struggle out by yourself?" Cesar did not stop and continued to wander along the edge of the battlefield, looking for a possibility to cross the abyss rift.

Chapter 469: Entrusting Your Life

"I have had many problems with that deceitful prophet," said Milava. "But I will take care of this matter, so you don't have to worry. Once the root cause is removed, all you have to do is deal with the remaining residue."

"The remaining remnants..." Cesar could only shake his head. "Those mages who have used Alranti's Illusion Control School for generations can't be considered remnants. The Temple of the Gods is the brilliant achievement of this deceitful prophet, and so is the Yesterlen School. If something can continue on its own without a ruler, it means it no longer needs a ruler to commit sins. Fortunately, without a ruler, these mages will become rootless trees. We don't have to worry about causing greater terror when dealing with them next time."

"I'm afraid this is going to be a long one."

"No matter how long it takes, we have to do it. If we don't completely control such a strange school of magic, it will be a hidden danger no matter how you think about it. Twisting personalities, overwriting memories, tampering with thoughts, I have rarely seen them do what other schools of magic should do in war. If I had the Xisai School in my hands, how could I... Have you seen it, Milava?"

"Never," Mirava pondered. "They never did what other schools of magic were supposed to do in war. In my time, the Yestren School simply sent out Alanti, letting her influence the course of many wars on her own. It felt as if their mages were a group of cultists, and Alanti was a false god they had created over generations."

"You're right," Cesar agreed. "It now appears that the Yesterlen School isn't a school of magic, but a cult. Although the believers call themselves mages, they are actually acolytes, worshiping the phantom of Alanthi to obtain ancient Kuna spells. The so-called school leaders are actually just using Alanthi's direct bloodline as a vessel, carrying Alanthi's phantom for generations."

Winter night...

"I'm afraid you'll have to be careful not to let this sword and that Winter Night meet," Milava said. "At least, keep them away until you've determined the true nature of both Winter Night and Alante. If the sword contains Alante's true soul and consciousness, then Winter Night represents the thousand-plus years she spent like Grandmaster Firiel. If you allow the two to combine without scrutiny, the being you create won't be as terrifying as Grandmaster Firiel, but it won't be far off either."

"I will have my people thoroughly research this sword and the Arlanti it contains. As for that Touye, she will get the end she deserves."

Cesar tapped the longsword at his waist as he spoke, but he immediately withdrew his hand. The hilt suddenly lost its warmth, and the moment he touched it, it was like burying his hand in a biting frost.

Is this guy expressing extreme emotions? He put on thick gloves and ran his fingertips over the blade, watching wisps of white mist drift away. The feeling of brushing against his skin was like a misty blade.

The next moment, a surge of frost erupted. Cesar immediately removed his hand and slashed his sword against the tomb wall. A white frost quickly spread along the stone bricks, freezing the moss and cracking the water channels on the ground. It turned the stone coffin into an ice coffin and froze the blood on the ground into countless broken pink ice fragments.

"What a violent reaction." Milava glanced down at her frosted sword. "You should punish this fellow, Master. I don't think anyone could be more suitable to punish her than her descendant. Especially since that person is a wizard who has shown the same talent again after a thousand years."

"I'll have to add a few more seals after we get out..." Cesar felt a sting on his lips as he spoke, and his breath turned to frost. The guy's emotions became extremely intense after hearing his words, like a little girl venting her anger with a knife.

Now the tomb is sealed in frost, the ground and walls are covered with ice and snow, and even the sticky pool of blood has turned into a pink carpet that crackles when stepped on.

The corpse-eater screamed again. It didn't understand the ancient language of the Frank Empire they had just spoken. It seemed to think that this sword was also the sword of a real dragon. Not only did it have self-awareness, but it could also suddenly go crazy. It almost froze it into frozen rat meat. Of course, this sword was Zawulon's sword, and it was also a real dragon's sword. In addition, Alanti was also a terrifying soul created by another real dragon. It could be said that it was an incredible blade forged by two real dragons.

If I could use this thing to deal with Touya...

What he needed was to seal Dong Ye in as well, rather than letting Alanti escape through Dong Ye's existence and completely control the Yesterlen School that had worshipped her for more than a thousand years.

"Do you want me to heal this thing and then have her play the role of the queen?" Cesar waved his sword. "I heard that many of your knights need more than just the emperor."

Milava shook her head in denial. "We'll see when the time comes. I want to complete the initial rise on my own. I'll first find those knights who don't particularly worship Alranti. Besides, when the time comes, I don't know how to ask you for help."

"Request?" Cesar was a little surprised.

"Because I have no intention of working for your forces."

"Is it just me, not my forces..."

"Maybe I can start by being your servant for a while."

"Do you really want to experience it?"

"That's right. I want to experience the past that old Milava denied. But to what extent, maybe we can agree to talk about it again in many years." Milava glanced at the sword that sealed Alanti.

He glanced at Cesar's ornament left by Soler before looking towards another drawbridge. "The battle line is completely blocked. Without other coordination, it's nearly impossible for these knights to cross the drawbridge. There's no war equipment here, and even if there was, we couldn't bring it in. If there's any strategy, it can only be to choose the least defended spot."

"You want to be a bridge runner?"

"Do you remember that great hall? Even with his head cut off, Milava could still fight."

Cesar gazed at the numerous suspension bridges across the abyssal chasm. "Those snake walkers will plunge the bridge runners into the abyss. Knights can rush to the finish line from one branch of the time maze to another, but you only have this one."

"So I ask you to join me, Master. I know you also possess a degree of immortality. If I am torn apart, please pick me up and give me some blood so I can recover quickly. If you are torn apart, I will do the same. Although you and I cannot become one like you and your other half of your soul, when it comes to standing on the same front and wielding swords, perhaps I can do it better than anyone else?"

"You're surprisingly proactive. In the past, I was the one who said and did this kind of thing."

Miraval smiled. "That's even better. The distinction between the residual memories here and reality is almost indistinguishable. The closer we get to the end, the closer we get to the intersection of the residual memories and reality. If we rush across the bridge in the residual memories and destroy the weak part, the dilemma on the other side will naturally be solved."

"Okay, then I'll take that as your reason for being the bridgeman," Cesar said. "What do I call it? A life-or-death trust?"

"Of course."

......

When Cesar let the corpse-eater take the lizard away, he could feel the guy's surprise and confusion, but he didn't care. After all, he didn't have any deep hatred for the beastmen or any other group.

There were countless interethnic conflicts in this world, yet he had come into contact with all sides. Regardless of their species, even the Faceless and the White Nightmares, he only looked at the individual, not the group. Ultimately, it was because he was a so-called demon from outside this world.

Perhaps true dragons have a similar attitude toward all species in the world. After all, they are true dragons outside of time. Even if immature true dragons develop self-awareness and become attached to the passing of time and the changing world, it does not affect their existence.

However, the bridge-rushing incident was still somewhat beyond imagination.

Even without the fork in time, Cesar had often been struck by the sheer size of the chambers and the strange structures of some of them when he explored the Tomb of the Wise. Now, as he saw a series of narrow chambers leading to a deep chasm and the boundless Kuna wall beyond, he felt this cemetery was even more eerie.