69 THE PRIMORDIAL GOD THAT THREADS THE SKIES (1/2)
In just a few moments, the rebel army had set up camp. Each great warrior brought out their spatial treasures: passing through the doorway of a cabin would lead to a magnificent mansion on the other side.
The closest ones of such abodes, those belonging to the powerhouses that usually fought as spearheads to the formation in the frontlines, were just a couple hundred miles away from the entrance to the first Mesial duct. This distance could be covered fairly quickly for when the time came to charge in, but it was just far enough away to easily respond in the case the enemy were to suddenly attack.
As these outstanding warriors rested their tired bodies, peak existences and legends from countless planes of existence, they also couldn't help but look forward to the rising of the war flags: at that time, they'd be taking part in the most heated conflict of the current era.
Xu Ling looked down from the ruins of a tall building with a pained smile.
Below, were spirit beasts of all shapes and colors, most opting to switch to their anthropomorphic bodies to move around within the encampment more comfortably. Mixed therein were both mesmerizing beings talked about in old legends, as well as monstrous beings that may as well be straight out of a family's ”go to bed now, or else x will come for you”. By them, were eccentric humans that wielded the most disparate magical objects as weapons, and donned pieces of clothing from a million different cultures.
In this chaos of countless figures, people from countless distant worlds coexisted in harmony.
Everyone spoke, laughed, ate, and drank with everyone else, independently of appearance or customs: the battlefield had united them all.
Or at least, everyone except for a man in his late forties. This outlier wore black, scaly armor that accentuated his muscular physique, and his only company was a red-haired young boy in his late teens, that teased him nonstop. The middle-aged man had a prominent chin, thick eyebrows, and beneath them a tall nose, and piercing white eyes. His big mouth was adorned by a trimmed mustache and an impressive goatee, same tint as his braided black hair. He looked heroic, dignified, even.
If only it weren't for those stupid glasses…
The young boy suddenly jumped on his back and pulled the other's ears ”C'mon, Blacky! Why the long face? I told you, people will eventually warm up to anyone if they look this stupid!”
”And what's more,” The youth's golden draconic eyes narrowed in bliss as he went on to poke and pull the cheeks of the scale-armored man, ”These two monocles are just so bad you find yourself unable to look away even after a third, or even fourth glance! This way, at least people will get over their fear of those eyes and get used to looking at you at eye-level!”
It was only after a while that he noticed the other has stopped, his draconic eyes peering in the distance. The middle-aged plaything of the redhead boy followed the direction of his gaze but found nothing. It was only when the golden-eyed youth muttered a ”No way… It really is him? Why would that old exile come here, of all places?” that he understood something wasn't right.
Far away, atop a tall hill from atop which one could just barely see the Mesial duct, Xu Ling raised his head at once, his blue eyes also trailing that which was not there, yet took up an empty spot of the sky.
”To think that, of all places, I'd be meeting one of the Four here…”
”Mmh?”
Before him, a small group of people had gathered to come up with ways to maximize their advantages in the battle to come. Among them, was a young man that exuded a scholarly aura. Unbecoming of a scholar, on the other hand, was the sword over a hundred meters long that lay behind him. Seeing as how Xu Ling had looked up, spoken those words, and then was not paying attention, he grabbed his weapon and easily lifted the hunk of celestial metal with a single hand. At his whim, its size reduced dramatically, until it was barely as big as a small kitchen knife.
He then proceeded to nonchalantly poke the side of the blue-eyed youth, as everyone just looked on, not surprised in the least.
To his confusion, the edge actually cut into the skin, and a drop of golden blood slid down the blade. In that instant, invisible strings that had been binding the cultivator as a result of a contract with the Evil Saint all burst, as the condition for freedom had been met.
The other generals, Xiao Lan even more so than others, had eyes as wide as tennis balls: after eighty of the hundred years had passed experiencing failure after failure, Jianpu had succeeded like this, of all ways?
”Uh… I just… Did I just win our hundred-year bet? Am I free, just like that?” The scholar swordsman was just as elated as he was lost: had Boss, or rather, that crazed bastard actually gone mad? In the past, no matter if the other was meditating or even in the midst of battle, his sword had never found its mark!
He set the shapeshifting blade beside him again, and it grew a few thousand meters long just like that. Cries of shock and angry shrieks rang out from those camping below the hill as their cabins were crushed underneath the massive sword. In his shock, Jianpu didn't even bother to explain himself to the people yelling below.
Oblivious to the chaos surrounding, Xu Ling was as still as a statue. Eventually, the blue eyes lost in a faraway land shone in delight.
”Everybody, move aside, I need some space!” He jumped to his feet. Meanwhile, his whole aura changed as the strict laws recorded in the Qi around his body grew looser and looser to accommodate and second his Immortal will…
The red-haired boy with draconic golden eyes felt the descending of a familiar Dao, so he turned his head. At that point, even he, with his experience, was stunned beyond words.
”This blasphemous brat... Is he seriously thinking of catching himself an Emperor?” the youth came to this jaw-dropping conclusion.
”Everyone, move aside this instant!” Blacky bellowed from across the encampment: if by that point Blacky hadn't pieced together the clues, he wouldn't be worth Xu Ling's efforts to enslave him.
Similarly, Xiao Lan was dumbfounded as he finally understood the intentions of his dear Boss. In a daze, he somehow managed to motion for everyone to back off. Everyone was just as taken by surprise but still did as the two, slave and close brother, had ordered.
Alas, reality wavered, and the Dao of the Evil Saint descended, bending the world and rewriting the Qi at the Immortal's whim.
”Huuuu…” Xu Ling inspired, and then raised his left hand. The world came to a still, as not a single rebel dared utter a sound.
Whoosh…
A faint breeze blew past…