nashuaworldcup Chapter 377 A Heart Burning with Passion for Slaying Gods!!! (Page 12)
Chapter 377 A Heart Burning with Passion for Slaying Gods!!! (Page 12)
Mist.
In a city swept away by the divine power of the wind god Xiu, time seemed to stand still.
A thick, grayish-white fog enveloped the entire city, like a thick shroud, completely isolating Tianhe City from the outside world.
The buildings on both sides of the street were partially obscured by the fog, their windows dark and devoid of any light.
The streetlights had long been turned off, with only the occasional eerie phosphorescent glow leaving brief green trails in the fog.
In the city center square, inside a makeshift shelter, a faint fire flickered stubbornly in the mist.
The three sat around the stove, the firelight casting flickering shadows on their faces.
The stove was made from a discarded metal barrel, and inside it burned wood salvaged from a nearby furniture store, producing a slight crackling sound.
Zhou Ping leaned back on a worn-out sofa, his hands gripping his longsword tightly. The blade was covered with fine cracks, as if it might shatter at any moment.
His eyes were closed, and his breathing was so faint that it was almost imperceptible.
The white clothes were soaked in blood, and the dark red bloodstains appeared eerily purplish-black under the firelight.
His face was deathly pale, even his lips were an unhealthy bluish-white, and only his furrowed brows showed that he was still enduring some kind of pain.
The other two were dressed in Night's Watch attire, their faces pale, and their eyes filled with unease.
They were Chen Han and Lu Yu. Lu Yu was much younger, with a round face that still had a touch of childishness. He was nervously rubbing his hands together, glancing occasionally at the increasingly thick fog outside the door.
"Senior Chen Han, the Sword Saint doesn't look well!" Lu Yu finally couldn't help but speak, his voice trembling noticeably.
He pointed to Zhou Ping's chest—where the clothes had been torn open, revealing a strange black mark that was spreading outwards at a visible speed.
Chen Han glanced at the Sword Saint and sighed softly; the scar looked even more grotesque in the firelight.
“I don’t know much about his body either,” he said in a low voice, as if afraid of waking up some terrible being. “There is some special energy inside that is destroying his life force, and my healing abilities cannot cure it.”
As he spoke, he extended his right hand, and a faint green light emanated from his palm.
But when the light touched the black mark on Zhou Ping's chest, it was immediately repelled by some invisible force and dissipated into the air.
Fine beads of sweat appeared on Chen Han's forehead, indicating that he had tried many times, all of which ended in failure.
"Oh no, what are we going to do?" Lu Yu was so anxious he was tearing his hair out. "The Sword Saint won't just... die like this..."
"You jinx!" Chen Han glared at him, his scarred face looking particularly fierce in the firelight.
But after reprimanding Lu Yu, he himself became somewhat uneasy.
After hesitating for a moment, he gently patted Zhou Ping's cheek: "Sword Saint? Can you hear me?"
Zhou Ping's eyelids twitched a few times before he slowly opened them.
Those eyes, which were always sharp as swords, were now dull and lifeless, their pupils slightly dilated, as if shrouded in a layer of gray mist.
His lips moved, but he only managed to make a few faint whispers.
Just then, a series of light footsteps came from deep within the shelter. Three small figures emerged from behind a pile of debris—the three only children left in the city who were still awake.
Wang Jiaqi, a seven or eight-year-old boy, still had tear stains on his face;
Li Ruodie, a little girl, looked a year or two older than Wang Jiaqi, and was stubbornly pursing her lips.
There was also an even smaller boy, clinging tightly to Li Ruodie's clothes, his big eyes filled with fear.
"Uncle, I'm scared!" The little boy buried his face in Lu Yu's arms, his small body trembling like a leaf in the wind.
His fingers gripped Lu Yu's uniform so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
How can I not be afraid?
The entire city is now asleep, except for Wang Jiaqi and his two children, three adults, and one covered in blood.
Lu Yu seemed to be the kindest of them all—Chen Han's scars were too frightening, and Zhou Ping was still unconscious.
That's why Wang Jiaqi mustered up the courage to suddenly rush towards Lu Yu.
Lu Yu was stunned, then a gentle expression appeared on his face.
He awkwardly hugged the little girl and gently patted her back:
"It's alright, it's alright, your uncle is here." His voice was much gentler than usual, even though he was terrified inside.
Seeing this, Li Ruodie couldn't help but run her little hand across her face and make a funny face:
"Shame on you! You're so old and still scared!" But as soon as she finished speaking, a strange howl suddenly came from afar, like some kind of huge creature moving through the fog.
The little girl froze immediately, her stubbornness instantly replaced by fear.
Chen Han noticed Li Ruodie's change, sighed, and beckoned to her: "Come over here, it's warm by the fireplace."
Li Ruodie hesitated for a moment, then pulled the even smaller boy along and slowly moved to the stove.
The little boy didn't say anything, but just held Li Ruodie's hand tightly, his big eyes filled with tears.
Zhou Ping weakly opened his eyes and looked at the crowd gathered around the stove.
His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only raised his hand with difficulty and pointed to his sword.
"You want this?" Chen Han immediately understood and carefully handed the longsword to Zhou Ping.
The moment the swordsman's fingers touched the hilt, the fine cracks on the blade suddenly glowed with a faint blue light.
Although the light was faint, it caused some of the surrounding mist to dissipate.
The three children stared in surprise, and even the crying Wang Jiaqi temporarily forgot his fear.
"So beautiful..." Wang Jiaqi whispered, peeking out from Lu Yu's arms.
Zhou Ping smiled weakly, a smile that seemed especially precious on his pale face.
He struggled to raise his hand, gently touched Wang Jiaqi's head, then pointed to the light on the sword, then to the three children, and finally tapped his own chest.
“What the Sword Saint means is,” Chen Han explained, “that this light can protect you, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Lu Yu looked at Zhou Ping in surprise: "Sword Saint, are you... sacrificing your own life force to maintain this light?"
Zhou Ping did not answer, but simply closed his eyes and nodded slightly.
The blue light on the sword stabilized, forming a faint light shield that enveloped the three children.
The fog inside the light shield immediately dissipated, and even the temperature seemed to rise slightly.
Wang Jiaqi curiously reached out and touched the blue light screen.
As her fingers passed through the light screen, they created a ripple-like pattern.
"It's so warm..." he whispered, a smile finally appearing on his face.
Li Ruodie stopped being stubborn and carefully approached the light shield, letting the blue light shine on her.
The youngest boy finally released his grip on Li Ruodie's clothes and curiously examined the magical light.
Chen Han and Lu Yu exchanged a glance, both seeing worry in each other's eyes.
They knew that Zhou Ping was using the last of his strength to protect these children.
The cracks on the sword were slowly widening, and with each crack widening, it meant that Zhou Ping was losing a portion of his life force.
“Sword Saint,” Chen Han said in a low voice, “please conserve your energy. We will take good care of these children.”
Zhou Ping shook his head and stubbornly gripped the sword hilt.
The blue light then brightened a little, and the three children let out small gasps of surprise.
Lu Yu's eyes were a little red.
He hugged Wang Jiaqi tightly and whispered, "The Sword Saint is protecting you in his own way. He's very powerful, so you don't need to be afraid."
Wang Jiaqi tilted her head up and looked at Zhou Ping intently:
"Thank you, Uncle Sword Saint." Her voice was childish yet sincere, and it was exceptionally clear in the silent shelter.
Li Ruodie lowered her head and whispered "thank you".
Although the youngest boy still didn't speak, the fear in his eyes had lessened considerably, replaced by a hint of curiosity and reassurance.
A look of satisfaction appeared on Zhou Ping's face, even though his complexion had become even paler.
The blue light on the sword flickered steadily, like a small lighthouse, guiding three lost children through the city swallowed by mist.
Outside the shelter, the fog remained thick and heavy, occasionally carrying eerie sounds—like the rustling of scales as some enormous creature moved through the fog, or like a distant, inhuman howl.
These sounds, sometimes near, sometimes far, echoed through the thick fog, sending chills down one's spine.
But at this moment, a strange warmth was spreading in the small space beside the stove.
The blue glow emanating from Zhou Pingjian intertwined with the flickering furnace fire, casting a soft halo on everyone's faces.
In this apocalyptic scene, three adults and three children formed a small, warm haven.
Wang Jiaqi nestled in Lu Yu's arms, the tear stains on her face already dried.
He stared curiously at the longsword in Zhou Ping's hand, his big eyes reflecting the blue light emanating from the blade. "Uncle Sword Saint," his voice was childish yet clear, "aren't you the strongest?"
A slightly awkward smile appeared on Zhou Ping's pale face.
He shook his head, his voice weak and soft: "Of course not, besides me there are four other people whose strength is about the same as mine."
"Wow!!!" Little Li Ruodie exclaimed in surprise, temporarily forgetting her fear.
"Then they must be very powerful!" She imagined the scene of four sword saints as powerful as Zhou Ping standing together, her little face full of longing.
Wang Jiaqi's eyes lit up: "Will they come to rescue us?"
This question surprised Zhou Ping.
His grip on the sword tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white.
The shelter suddenly fell silent, with only the crackling of firewood burning in the stove.
Chen Han and Lu Yu both looked at the Sword Saint, waiting for his answer.
Silence is spreading.
Zhou Ping's gaze swept over the children's expectant faces, then looked at the thick, impenetrable fog outside the shelter.
Finally, he said softly, "They have their own things to do too. We can only rely on ourselves here!"
The children's faces fell instantly, and the light in their eyes dimmed.
The youngest boy—Li Xiaoyang, who hadn't spoken a word—even started sobbing again, his little hands tightly gripping Li Ruodie's clothes.
Seeing this, Chen Han quickly squatted down, trying to make her voice sound more relaxed:
"Hey, little guys, do we really need someone to save us?" He pointed at Zhou Ping. "We have the Sword Saint here, don't be afraid!"
Lu Yu joined in, ruffling Wang Jiaqi's hair: "That's right, the Sword Saint is someone who can split mountains in two with a single sword strike! Those guys hiding in the mist are no match for him!"
The children's emotions were calmed down a bit, and Li Ruodie even puffed out her little chest: "When I grow up, I want to be a sword saint! As powerful as Uncle Zhou Ping!"
"Me too!" Wang Jiaqi raised her little hand, and a smile returned to her face.
Li Xiaoyang looked at his two older sisters, then timidly raised his little hand: "I...I want one too..."
Zhou Ping looked at the three children, a gentle light flashing in his eyes.
He said softly, "When I was a child... I had the same dream."