Chapter 150 — Frenzy
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 4 of 7
They were countless monsters, like malevolent ghosts and savage souls charging out of the Nine Hells, blood-red eyes and keen fangs, their shrill roars rushing head-on. All manner of grotesque monsters and demonic beasts had gathered into an irresistible surging torrent. Before this ferocious flood, no one could stand or survive; even the forest trees lining both sides of the path were swiftly swallowed by the torrent amid the thunderous roaring.
Without hesitation, without pause, the torrent plunged straight into the Valley of Venomous Snakes, like black tidewater pouring in an instant into a green ocean. In every corner of the forest, venomous snakes were hurled out in terror, struggling desperately within the flood, but without exception they were submerged in an instant. Even the forest's poisoned rainbow mist could not stop this dreadful flood of beast-demons; the dozen or so charging at the very front fell dead, but countless more trampled their companions' corpses and surged on irresistibly, and a mighty hurricane scattered the colored poison mist in the blink of an eye, carrying it drifting high above the forest.
Within the black torrent of beast-demons, four or five powerful demonic beasts—looking dozens of times larger than ordinary monsters—led their underlings forward, fangs bared and claws spread. And at the entrance to the Valley of Venomous Snakes, countless more monsters still poured in without end.
The whole of Snake Valley seemed to be shivering at that moment. Everything looked like the end of the world.
At the other end of Snake Valley, the Underworld King stood on high ground and drew a deep breath. He had seen the ferocity of the beast-demons before, yet the scene before him still drained the color from his face. He steadied himself, brooded a moment, then looked toward the forest north of Snake Valley; beneath the morning sunlight, a faint shimmering reflection glinted among the trees.
A cold smile slowly surfaced at the corner of the Underworld King's mouth: one day, all of you will know who it is that wins in the end.
He roared it in his heart, and his expression gradually hardened. Bili was gone—then let the world make up for it!
He turned slowly. Behind him in the dense forest stood the disciples of the Underworld King Sect, packed so tightly they filled the woods, their fighting spirit burning high. The Underworld King gazed at the men before him, countless eyes fixed upon his face.
In that moment, who could know what was in his heart?
His arm rose slowly, seeming to grow heavy; from afar the roaring and the rising screams of terror seemed to reach even here. The Underworld King's expression shifted once more—then he brought his raised arm down hard.
His arm was a blade, a keen edge slashing at the world, severing the last of tenderness, tearing apart dreams once held; the sound it cut through the wind was like bone snapping inside a chest!
Behind his towering figure, countless men raised a cry of boiling blood and surged down the mountain with blades held high, sleeves flying, a fierce wind hissing; the trees of the forest swayed and shook as if dancing wildly to it. The Underworld King stood amid the tide of men like hard, cold rock, unmoving. He turned and looked to the northern forest, where the woods too stirred in a ripple that slowly spread outward.
The Underworld King laughed—there in that sea of men marching to their deaths he suddenly threw back his head and laughed wildly. The laughter was so harsh on the ear that none dared question him a single word; only the morning sun, just risen, still carried a faint warmth as it rushed upon this mad mortal world!