Chapter 115: Rain Falls on the Capital as Lightning Strikes
The Grand Master gasped heavily, his aura rapidly fading. This was not merely due to his weakened state, but because he had forcibly invoked the “Heaven’s Prayer Technique,” straining his magical energy beyond its limits.
Seizing the moment, he quickly intoned, “Heaven above, bear witness! Now that demons have usurped the throne and bring calamity upon the world, I beseech you with my blood: descend with thunder from the skies, bestow pure dew to dispel falsehoods! Illuminate the lost souls! Let them see the truth! Let them behold reality!”
Having spoken, the Grand Master bowed deeply and shouted aloud, “Heaven, please heed my plea!”
The invisible gaze dissipated. Suddenly, dark clouds gathered in the night sky, rolling and churning like boiling water, intermittently flashing with lightning. Then, large drops of rain began to fall.
The demon realm’s barrier responded instantly, managing only to fend off the rain briefly before a sudden streak of azure lightning struck it fiercely.
With a crisp roar, the barrier shattered abruptly!
A furious roar erupted from the imperial city, sharp and desperate. Lightning flickered, converging faintly upon that very spot.
The roar immediately ceased.
Countless heavy raindrops poured down, cleansing the entire capital.
Yet the storm clouds above showed no sign of dissipating; instead, they relentlessly drew in surrounding darkness, growing ever larger.
The Grand Master’s aura faded swiftly. He collapsed to the ground, his hair and robes soaked by the rain, the stench of decay on his body washed away.
He laughed heartily, “Demon spawn, didn’t expect this, did you? Old man here gives you one last disgust before death! Worth it! Hahaha—cough, cough!”
Xia Ningshang hurried forward to support him, but he waved her off.
“Child, go do what you must. He needs you,” the Grand Master said with a joyful smile, his eyes full of kindness.
Xia Ningshang looked at him deeply, then nodded solemnly. She bowed profoundly before transforming into a black dragon, spiraling upward and flying toward the outskirts.
The Grand Master lay on the ground, letting the rain soak him through. The relief in his eyes did not diminish; they held a mixture of nostalgia, sorrow, and remembrance—so much so that it became unclear whether the moisture at his eyes’ corners was rain or tears.
“Former Emperor...” he murmured softly, “Your humble servant has the honor to come find you...”
With those words, he closed his eyes, a faint smile curling at his lips. His body rapidly decayed, turning charred black.
“Boom!”
Thunder cracked across the sky. Ji Junhong, sitting quietly in the courtyard, looked up, as if understanding something.
He stood beneath a tree and respectfully saluted the sky, saying, “Farewell to the Grand Master of the Great Zhou.”
Piercing lightning tore through the night, thunder rolling endlessly. At that moment, countless residents of the capital lifted their heads to gaze upward.
Those already deceased showed confusion in their eyes, unaware of what had transpired.
But those with cultivation, struggling on the edge of life and death, heard the thunder as if it exploded suddenly within their minds.
Countless purple demonic energies were shattered by the supreme yang thunder, vanishing entirely.
Suddenly, myriad memories flooded their minds like a revolving lantern, replaying all their recent experiences.
Their faces changed drastically, expressions thrown into chaos. Panic-stricken, they rushed out of their rooms, desperate to escape this living hell called the imperial city.
At that moment, the figure in the imperial city let out a long, haunting roar.
The roar spread far and wide, sweeping across the entire city like a signal.
The tens of thousands of living dead still lingering in the city’s streets glowed with purple light in their eyes, contorted into savage snarls. One by one, they emerged from their dwellings, drooling and shambling like mindless zombies, charging blindly into the rain.
Whenever they encountered someone fully conscious, they lunged to tear and devour.
Many martial artists had been malnourished these days, weak in limbs; killing a dozen or so zombies was normal. But any slip or flaw exposed would draw a swarm of undead upon them, and they would be ripped apart and devoured in an instant.
The streets were flooded with these mutilated creatures, a dark tide sweeping through the city, intent on eradicating all unruly elements.
Chaos engulfed the capital: terrified shouts, clashing weapons, cries of fire breaking out.
Amidst it all, the howls and shrieks of countless undead echoed through the streets.
In the Duke of the Nation’s mansion, in Ji Xiaoxiong’s bedroom, he slept soundly.
Earlier, he had spent the entire afternoon gossiping with Ji Junhong about Ji Huo’s affairs, relishing the scandal, and secretly drinking heavily.
The chilling roar from the palace woke him abruptly.
His eyes snapped open, the purple glow flaring within.
He looked toward the sky: lightning flashing, thunder roaring, rain pouring.
“This rain is peculiar,” Ji Xiaoxiong said, rising to his feet. His silhouette loomed like a dark mountain against the night, sealing the windows tightly.
No matter how violently the thunder roared, the purple light in his eyes remained undiminished.
He stared intently at the sky, furrowing his brow.
His gaze fell upon the window where the raindrops trembled rhythmically.
That trembling pattern stirred something within him—a scent of war.
The familiar smell of the Flying Bear Army’s swift march.
“Traitor!”
Ji Xiaoxiong suddenly spun around, rage filling his face. Lightning crackled around his body, the purple light in his eyes so intense it obscured his vision.
His fury shattered the entire room into dust, which was then washed away by the rain.
“Boom!”
The thunderclap echoed from the Duke of the Nation’s mansion, reverberating throughout the capital.
Whether still fighting or mindless undead wandering the streets, all looked up.
They saw a dazzling bolt of lightning shoot forth from the mansion, piercing the darkness, stretching across the heavens with a long azure tail, then striking the city wall.
Thirty thousand elite guards, as if signaled, poured onto the city walls, standing ready in formation.
Their eyes glowed purple; their skin bore a faint violet hue, long since transformed by the great demons into demonic soldiers.
“Boom!”
The lightning struck, revealing Ji Xiaoxiong’s massive, mountain-like figure.
His presence was overwhelming, raw fury radiating wildly from him. Even nearby demon soldiers recoiled under his aura.
“City guards, heed my command!” Ji Xiaoxiong’s eyes—intertwined with purple light and thunder—pierced the darkness like a night hawk, his voice heavy with authority: “Full alert!”
“Yes, sir!” the thirty thousand purple-eyed demon soldiers responded in unison.
Behind the walls, a vast, dark mass of undead gathered, their eerie voices guiding them as they surged from within the city.
The zombies stood scattered behind the gates, stretching endlessly into the dark beyond.
Their bodies swayed uncontrollably, as if afflicted with hyperactivity, rain soaking them through.
Once the gates opened, these countless undead would spill forth like a tide without end.
Among them were the elderly and children, young and strong alike, most missing limbs, their bodies reeking of decay and death.
“Click, click, click...”
“Click, click, click...”
“Click, click, click...”
One after another, a strange, rasping sound emerged from throats choked with thick phlegm.
Other zombies lifted their heads and opened their mouths wide. So forceful was the sound that their mouths tore to their ears, emitting a chilling clicking noise.
The entire city wall was soon enveloped by this eerie chorus.
Ji Xiaoxiong glanced back, fury blazing in his purple eyes, a flicker of approval crossing his gaze.
“The people of the capital truly love Great Zhou deeply. To come out and aid the city’s defense so late at night, with such vigor—like night owls—it’s far better than that traitor!”
“Though their song is rather unpleasant... not as good as old bear’s singing.”