Chapter 204: Joining the Battlefield

Jing Luo still harbored a sliver of hope in his heart.

During the Icefield incident, he did not take part because he still had other tasks.

But according to the later report from the fisherman, a lone player named Zi Shu, in terms of strength, could be called the current outright strongest, having single‑handedly defeated a Zifu Realm strongman of the Silent Council.

If only "if".

If that person appears and, like the Icefield incident, suddenly joins the fight, could they, with desperate assistance, have a chance to eliminate the Dharmic Realm in the carriage?

Or perhaps it's all just his delusion, that even if Zi Shu joins the battle, the final outcome would still be failure?

Jing Luo glanced at the storage compartment, at the equipment issued by the state, inhaled deeply, and thought it would succeed as long as the person called Zi Shu still held thoughts of Huaxia!

"People of Iron Blood Great Wall, take note—use the gear to block those bald donkeys and cover the comrades' retreat!"

Clinging to his final sliver of hope, Jing Luo issued a command no different from suicide; the nearby Iron Blood Great Wall members, after a moment of silence, drew a resolute expression and produced a nail exuding an ominous aura.

【Soul‑Burning Nail: Demonic Path magical tool; when driven into the Baihui acupoint, it can burn Lifespan and soul, temporarily boosting one's level and power until all of oneself is exhausted, resulting in death. (After death, resurrection by any means is impossible.)】

"Hmm?"

Seemingly surprised by their resolve, the fat monk in the carriage finally spoke as the Soul‑Burning Nail appeared.

Jing Luo instantly sensed trouble, grabbed the Soul‑Burning Nail and slammed it hard onto his head, shouting loudly, "Quick!"

"Petty trick."

Before his hand could rise above his head, a light laugh echoed in the carriage; several golden streaks shot out from behind the curtain, striking a few hands, and the Soul‑Burning Nail slipped from his grasp, soaring into the air.

"Not good."

One of the players' face changed, leaping into the air to snatch the Soul‑Burning Nail.

In the next instant, the previously idle White Elephant suddenly flicked its trunk, hurling the leaping player away; accompanied by the sound of bones shattering, the player was flung dozens of meters, collapsed on the ground, spitting fresh blood and unable to rise after a few struggles.

"Swift battle, swift resolution—do not waste the moment."

As the fat monk's nonchalant voice rang out, the rope restraining the White Elephant silently fell away.

Freed, the White Elephant let out a long howl, planted its massive legs, and its huge body flashed with uncanny agility to Jing Luo's side, raising its long trunk and smashing down on him fiercely.

"Squeak!"

Just as Jing Luo was locked in place by the trunk and unable to move, an extremely faint sound suddenly rang out; unless the people present had extraordinary senses, they might not have heard it.

But the White Elephant, as if encountering a natural predator, let out a fearful cry and kept retreating until it slammed into the carriage's front beam and halted.

The fat monk in the carriage seemed unprepared for this turn, and his curtain fell abruptly, revealing a surprised face.

"An ancient‑bloodline mink?"

The fat monk immediately bowed his head, looking at La Tiao, who had stood upright before Jing Luo, his tone revealing delight, "This mink is fated with my Buddha, how virtuous, how virtuous."

The others, like the fat monk, all focused on La Tiao, who had suddenly appeared at the battlefield's center, seeing his puzzled expression, unsure why they were making such a fuss. After blinking bewilderedly, La Tiao barked two threatening cries at the hesitant White Elephant, then seized the fallen Soul‑Burning Nail from the ground and, turning into a fleeting shadow, retreated.

Following its direction of movement, the crowd was astonished to discover that an additional figure had somehow appeared on the battlefield.

A man wearing a Japanese Evil Ghost Mask, his whole body enveloped in golden light, at first glance seemed like a monk's comrade, but upon closer inspection, the golden aura belonged to a Daoist sect and manifested like a blaze, markedly different from the monk's gold‑powdered appearance.

At that moment, the ancient‑bloodline Purple Mink perched on the man's shoulder, while the man examined it closely, holding the Soul‑Burning Nail.

The four flying monks, already ordered by the elder to resolve the battle swiftly, saw the suddenly appearing man and, without hesitation, seized their long staffs and charged.

Although they did not know the man's identity, to them his appearance on the battlefield at such a time could only mean he was an enemy.

Moreover, the elder had said that the mink was fated with his Buddha, so the man appearing to be its owner must die.

Precisely because of this, the four did not notice that the fat monk in the carriage sensed something the instant the man appeared; his pupils contracted sharply, his brows furrowed—though not as if facing a great foe, his expression still showed concern.

"Pfft."

The four intersecting staffs inflicted no damage; as they were about to strike the suddenly appearing man, he stepped forward, his figure vanishing instantly from the spot and reappearing behind the unsuspecting four.

Simultaneously, the man's hand rose lightly, and four Blade Auras manifested above the four monks' heads, ready to descend at any moment.

"Stop!"

The fat monk's complexion changed, no longer able to keep a calm demeanor; he rose to intervene, but it was already a step too late.

The moment he spoke, the Blade Auras were fully charged; as the man gently lowered his arm, the Auras fell unimpeded from the monks' crowns, carving four massive slash marks into the ground.

The four monks, unable to turn in time, froze; a red ring appeared around each neck, and with the momentum, their heads, bald as they were, swung uncontrollably into the air.

"Audacious!"

A flash of anger crossed the fat monk's face, and his thick palm slapped toward the man.

"Heh, that's bold, now let me show you what true boldness is!"

The man, none other than Chen Shicheng with his buffs maxed out, chuckled softly; dozens of Blade Auras instantly materialized before the fat monk and, without a moment's delay, slashed toward the monks in midair.

The fat monk's complexion shifted; he waved his broad monk robe, and his figure instantly returned to the carriage.

Everything happened so fast that, from everyone's perspective, they only saw the air between the two warp briefly, and the next second the fat monk was forced back onto the carriage.

A keen observer sharply noticed that the monk's robe hem had been sliced to shreds, appearing as if it had suffered a hidden wound.

And within the fat monk's angry gaze, beside the four decapitated monks, four translucent spirit bodies materialized, expressionless, standing in place.

"Act!"

At Chen Shicheng's command, the four freshly refined Cháng Ghosts lunged straight at the eighteen martial monks bearing shoulder‑height staffs. (End of chapter)