Chapter 385 - 210: In the Crevice of the Picture Scroll

Chapter 385: Chapter 210: In the Crevice of the Picture Scroll

The night was as black as ink.

WHOOSH~ WHOOSH~ WHOOSH~

Across the Great Desert, a hurricane, like a colossal black dragon, churned with wild sand. Accompanied by a shriek that cut like a blade, it hurtled toward Richan Valley at a terrifying speed.

Wherever the black twister passed, it obliterated everything in its path. Sand, rock, oases, and water sources were all swept up to become part of the sandstorm, staining the already somber night a more ominous shade of black.

Between the twister and Richan Valley, above a patch of open ground where there should have been nothing, a few drops of thick "ink" strangely began to drip from the void.

DRIP... DRIP... DRIP...

The ink gathered on the Great Desert, forming a small black puddle. The puddle was as viscous as tar, with faint wisps of black vapor rising from its surface.

DRIP!

The strange "ink" dripping from the void let fall one final drop, which hung suspended in mid-air.

From the viscous black puddle, a humanoid form suddenly rose. Tar-like ink coated its body, forming a thin membrane. The figure reached out, struggled to tear the membrane away, and then stepped out of the puddle.

As the figure stepped from the puddle, a viscous substance clung to the soles of its feet. It wriggled like black goo, greedily trying to adhere to the figure, extending wispy, hair-thin tendrils. But the figure moved quickly, leaving the strange substance behind.

The figure stretched out a hand. His blurry face was devoid of features. He looked down at his palm.

"Gongsun Mo..."

The figure murmured Gongsun Mo’s name.

’Quite the man, that Gongsun Mo.’

’If Lou Mengkong hadn’t alerted me, I never would have realized you’d pulled off such a grand deception, painting such an astonishing Final Work.’

As he muttered to himself, the sky-blotting twister behind him passed right through his body, yet it failed to stir him in the slightest, as if he were nothing but empty space.

’You must have, in the near ’future,’ secretly captured a wisp of my remnant soul. You used the ’resentment’ in your heart to paint this illusory form of me... I am merely a Thought Body, drawn by your own hand. But this also means... my hundred-year plan...’

’It succeeded!’

’My gambit has bought the Common World another century of peace!’

Suddenly, the surrounding darkness twisted and collapsed, like a canvas folding in on itself, frantically crushing the figure within.

In the blink of an eye, the collapsing space tore the newly appeared figure to shreds.

His voice echoed.

’This is outside the ’canvas.’ I should not be here.’

’A pity... I wanted to see the vista of Darkness you painted with my own eyes. No, that’s not right. I must have ’already’ seen it!’

’Mystics and Odd People are both ’errors of the Common World.’ Drawn by the Deceitful Object, they are compelled by the Deceit Heavenly Dao to attract one another. This is fate. Our fate.’

’Because more Human Pillars have gathered here! That is why you were able to survive.’

WHOOSH~

Outside the "canvas," the furious wind swept by. Everything was reduced to emptiness, to a great expanse of nothingness.

...

「Above the enemy camp.」

The Knights moved with light-footed steps, walking atop seemingly fragile lines of blood.

Hundreds of bloodlines connected back to Gongsun Mo.

With one Knight to each line, it was as if a giant spiderweb had materialized out of thin air above the enemy camp, and the Knights were like spiders crawling across it.

Xie Yunliu had been right.

The Western Regions army was arrayed for battle, leaving the town itself wide open. A night raid or a frontal assault would have been a path to certain death.

But with the aid of Grand Painter Gongsun’s bizarre Miracle Technique, the Martial Knights used their long-neglected Qinggong to descend from the sky like soldiers sent from Heaven—it was an aerial assault!

"You bastards! Give me back Hidden Sword Mountain!"

Dugu Yibai, once the world’s greatest master but now just an unassuming old fisherman, descended from the sky like a wild goose. He landed squarely on the shoulders of a patrolling Western Regions soldier. CRACK! The unlucky soldier’s spine snapped, his back bending grotesquely as he collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony.

"Heheheh! All you bastards deserve to die!"

With a flick of his fishing rod, Sword Qi tore through the camp in an instant. Over a dozen tents were ripped to shreds, and the heads of more than a hundred soldiers caught in the blast were sent flying, their blood spraying into the night sky!

"Ambush! Ambush! Ambush!"

Horns blared.

"WOOOOOOO—"

The old fisherman charged into the enemy formation, completely unstoppable.

In an instant, the camp descended into chaos. Soldiers, drawn by the sounds, poured out of their tents and looked around wildly. The front of the camp was empty. There were no battle cries. Where was the attack? From a secluded tent, a General emerged, trousers half-fastened, a half-dressed beauty from the Western Regions in his embrace. He saw the camp was deserted, his men running around in a panic without having even seen a shadow of the enemy. The General, his fun thoroughly interrupted, was about to start cursing when a cold sneer came from directly above him.

"’This coward... looks like an enemy commander, doesn’t he?’"

"’That’s got to be him! Only a General would have the nerve to be sleeping with a woman on the front lines.’"

"’Pah! Bullshit, I wouldn’t dare!’"

"’That’s why you’re a worthless General! Come back with me and be a warlord! Hahaha!’"

"’Old Chu, are you really trying to start something right now?’"

"’We can talk about that later! Anyway, this is... perfect timing!’"

"’Heh! Perfect timing!’"

The conversation overhead grew closer. The Western Regions General looked up in terror, his jaw dropping in shock the next second. He saw a bald man and another, a rugged brute with a full beard, descending from the sky.

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

The two Mighty Men descending from the sky brought their palms down on the General’s head in unison. The skull, unable to withstand the force of two simultaneous palm strikes, was crushed flat, his eyes bursting from their sockets.