Chapter 89: Zhanmu

He felt as if he had returned to the moment when the ice plain wolves attacked. He decisively drew his steel sword; this time, the steel sword had no notch.

The black shadow was at least as tall as two grown men, wearing a smoke-gray mask that concealed its face, with six blood-red eyes sunk into the eye sockets where eyes should be, staring at him ferociously.

The soldiers gazed in terror at this humanoid giant monster.

Everyone knew that the black shadow's target was him.

A storm of arrows madly shot at it, but it was unscathed; the arrows pierced its black shadow body and fell onto the stone steps.

Xiaogezi Lu drew his sword to block in front of Zhanmu, bravely charging toward the black shadow.

The black shadow's huge black melting spring long sword swept across Xiaozu Lu's neck as if cutting through nothing; instantly, Xiaozu Lu's head fell to the ground as if blown by wind, blood spurting from his neck, and he toppled from his warhorse.

The black melting spring long sword melted at that moment; the black giant shadow reached behind its back, drew out the long sword again, and strode toward Zhanmu with large steps.

One of its blood-red eyes closed.

Zhanmu gripped his long sword tightly, discovering he could not move at all.

"Damn it, demon!" Pi Te Pu Leng drew his sword, leading a nearby attendant forward in a charge, "Go die!"

The black shadow completely ignored Pi Te Pu Leng's long sword, letting the sword pass through its body, utterly unaffected.

"Ah..." Pi Te repeatedly hacked and slashed, but could not injure the black shadow in the slightest.

Zhanmu gritted his teeth, but his body remained unable to move.

The black long sword slashed diagonally down from Pi Te's shoulder; Pi Te's body was split in two before everyone's eyes, and he fell powerlessly from his warhorse. Blood dripped from the horse's back. The warhorse, terrified, galloped up the steps.

The long sword melted; the black shadow then drew a slightly shorter sword from behind its back, stepped forward, and as if cutting through air, sliced through Pi Te's attendant's armor and throat in one stroke, blood spraying onto the long steps; the attendant collapsed softly in the direction of the charge.

The black shadow advanced like a fearless warrior, step by step toward Zhanmu. Zhanmu felt he could now make out the star-shaped emblem embroidered on the shadow's flowing robe.

Six red eyes had closed three of them, just as the number of people it had taken.

Zhanmu glared, eyes wide, watching the black shadow walk toward him, but he could not move. He felt he could not even speak, as if frozen in place.

"Hear my roar! (HearmeRoar!)" he shouted in his heart, pleading with his departed ancestors to grant him strength, hoping he could now cry out.

But he simply could not move—not even a little finger—his whole body's muscles were sealed; only his thoughts remained within the controlled flesh.

He stared fixedly at the black shadow, watching it approach step by step.

It was not as fast as when it left the palace gate; it instantly stepped over the spearmen; it was not as fast as before killing Xiaozu Lu; nor as fast as before killing Pi Te Pu Leng.

It strolled like a leisurely garden walk, easily disposing of anyone who stood in its way.

"Advance!" Meilong glared at the black shadow, roaring at his left and right, and led the nearby cavalry forward in a charge.

Why could he move? Zhanmu wanted to shout at the top of his lungs, mobilizing his entire will to control his hand, head, legs, or any muscle.

The black shadow instantly raised its sword and slit a soldier's throat, cutting the throat guard armor to pieces as if slicing cake; blood continuously gushed from the soldier's throat, then fell onto the steps. After losing its rider, the horse let out a long neigh, passing through the black shadow as if it hadn't seen it at all.

The black shadow's sword melted again; its other hand drew an even shorter sword from behind, stabbing toward another knight's heart, piercing the armor and emerging from his back. The short sword melted; the knight's sword slipped softly from his hand, and then he himself fell from his horse.

The black shadow again drew a dagger from behind, piercing Meilong Zhangwu's sword, transfixing Meilong's body, and stepped straight toward Zhanmu.

Meilong's mouth fell open, as if he had suddenly plunged into an ice cave, trembling as he half-knelt.

It had only one red eye left. Zhanmu just knew in his heart that this red eye was reserved for him.

He glared at the black shadow, his left hand gripping the sword and trembling uncontrollably.

"Come on," he roared in his heart, "come on!"

His left and right guards, though terrified, still bravely held their swords and advanced.

But they could not cut anything, nor could they block anything.

The black shadow passed through their bodies, but its black ink grew dim.

They opened their mouths, as if unable to control their bodies, and fell from their horses with wails.

"Howl..." its sole remaining blood-red eye fixed on Zhanmu, emitting a frenzied roar; Zhanmu seemed to already smell the thick stench from the black shadow's mouth.

"Hear my roar!" Zhanmu finally managed to produce a sound, but the dull tone made him feel it was not his voice at all.

A pitch-black dagger, like ink, thrust straight toward his throat; he could not dodge, could not evade.

"Howl..." it let out a silent roar; Zhanmu only felt dizzy, icy, but stubbornly resisted the sensation of fainting.

He felt icy cold at his throat, and saw the last blood-red eye slowly closing.

He felt he had regained control of his body, so he swung his left-hand sword at the black shadow.

But he felt he had struck nothing.

The black shadow dispersed like ink and vanished.

He felt as if reborn from suffocation, loudly shouting to the soldiers, "Hear my roar!" to vent his repressed anger.

"Hear my roar!" his guards, the golden-robed figures behind him, the fallen Meilong, and the two cavalrymen all shouted together.

Zhanmu did not know what had happened, but he felt that by this point there was no room for compromise left.

"Charge in!" Zhanmu shouted at his guards and the golden-robed men behind him, "Eliminate the demon!"

"Kill!"

"Eliminate the demon!"

Zhanmu sheathed his sword, single-handedly held the reins, rode his horse, and stepped onto the steps of the great cathedral.

He had walked the steps of the great cathedral countless times, but had never ridden a horse across them.

"Kill!" the soldiers behind him shouted, "Eliminate the demon!"

Swarming guards pushed open the palace gate; inside the great cathedral's spacious hall lay shattered glass and stone fragments everywhere, with much blood still slowly seeping from the piled stone and glass.

The soldiers paid no heed to the carnage inside the hall, following as he passed through the sanctuary.

Dozens of cultivators, as if they had not seen the surging soldiers, still had their backs to the soldiers, chanting hymns to the heavenly father before them.

He wanted to order the soldiers to go around them, but in an instant the soldiers swung their slaughter blades at the cultivators, turning them instantly into heaps of flesh and blood.

"Eliminate the demon!" the soldiers shouted wildly.

Zhanmu did not know what mood he was in; he only felt the muscles on his face could no longer be controlled, twitching continuously.

"Kill!" He heard the soldiers shouting.

"Exterminate the demons!"

Inside the sanctuary, painful cries of nuns and young monks rang out.

"Find Da Que Ma!" he shouted with all his strength, "Spare them!"

No one could hear his voice.

Elsewhere inside the sanctuary, fierce fighting continued.

Church soldiers fearlessly kept charging at the guards; the archers behind the guards shot volley after volley of feathered arrows, harvesting the lives of the church soldiers.

The church soldiers who had survived the arrows still fearlessly launched a fierce assault on the guards, hoping to kill Jam.

The guards formed a simple battle line, spears and shields forward, thrusting at each church guard wielding crude weapons.

Wails rang incessantly.

Jam knew that no matter how brave they were, without proper organization they could not breach the professional soldiers' defenses, nor could they prevent the professional soldiers from slaughtering them.

War is a great lesson that must be learned. The poor folk gathering has not yet had time to undergo this learning, but Jam knows the power they possess.

Cersei's clumsy farce will end today.

"Find Dazhuema!" he shouted to the soldiers beside him, "Spare the monks and nuns!"

The cathedral was filled with the sounds of slaughter and wailing; his voice could not carry at all.

He saw monks and nuns' corpses strewn throughout the church. The guards showed no restraint, wantonly killing anyone in the church—whether robed monks and nuns, silent sisters in special garb, or civilians taking refuge there.

Damn it, this bill goes on you too, Dazhuema!

He furiously watched the out-of-control slaughter, knowing he could not stop it, so he took his nearby guards and charged past a few solitary resisting church soldiers toward the tower.

"Where is Dazhuema?" he demanded, pressing his sword hard against a monk's throat.

"May the Seven Gods forgive you!" the monk said, looking at him with calm eyes ready to face death.

Jam disliked that look and tone, and kicked him far away. The monk clutched his stomach in pain.

His soldiers did not continue to attack the monk, simply stepping over him.

"Find Dazhuema, find the queen and queen mother!" he loudly announced.

Hearing the weeping, wailing, and battle cries from all parts of the cathedral, Jam felt his mind in turmoil.

Soldiers surged from behind him; he saw some of the gold-robed men and guards still looting church property—gilded candlesticks, small golden and statues of the Seven Gods, and the gold and crystal that had fallen from the hall…

He was powerless to stop it; now was not the time to intervene.

"Seal the passages! Seal the passages!" he heard the gold-robed commander Humfrey Waters shout from behind him.

He glanced back at him approvingly, then headed for the cathedral's rear door.

He did not know where the queen mother was imprisoned, nor did he know where the archbishop Dazhuema was.

It didn't matter; as long as he fully took the cathedral, he could search slowly. What would happen next, he could no longer worry about. If the church truly intended to rebel, as regent of the Iron Throne he would have only to learn from Margaery.

He heard a hissing from the rear courtyard, so he took his own guards through the Virgin's Gate and went to the small garden inside the cathedral.

The stone wall of the small garden had been breached by rolling rocks, and scattered stones smashed many plants.

Monks and nuns lay dead in heaps, while the chaotic soldiers kept hacking, their cries of agony unceasing.

Damn it! "Stop!" Jam bellowed, "Stop now!"

"Stop!" the soldiers behind him shouted.

Jam led his rear guard, kicking open the soldiers still raising their swords to slash.

That soldier's eyes were blood-red, his face smeared with blood; after flipping over he sprang up, ready to charge at Jam with his sword, but upon seeing who approached, the red haze in his eyes cleared considerably.

"Stop!" Jam shouted at the other soldiers, no longer paying attention to the one he had kicked over.

"Stop!" the surrounding guards shouted!

Finally, after a while, the wails and shrieks in the cathedral garden gradually subsided; moments later, only weeping, sniffling, and painful moans remained in the small courtyard.

"Close the garden gate; you two guard the entrance, no soldiers allowed to rush in!" Jam felt he was going mad.

He had killed before, but never monks or nuns. In the end, these debts would simply fall on his head.

Damn it, let it be! I've killed kings, I've killed lords, I've killed bandits; now it's the monks' and nuns' turn. Little devil, I haven't yet killed my parents like you have! Fuck!

He took his guards and searched chapel after chapel.

Finally, on the tower representing the Father, he found Dazhuema still praying.

He was alone, kneeling on the ground, silently uttering words, offering worship to the Father.

"Drag him out!" the guards obeyed, gripping Dazhuema's hands and pulling him by his gray wool robe to Jam's front.

Dazhuema struggled to maintain dignity and appearance, but now he was only broken and wretched, looking more than a decade older than when Jam had last seen him.

When he saw Jam, his eyes flashed with hatred, but soon returned to calm.

"May the Father forgive you!" he said to Jam.

Those words made Jam unable to bear it any longer; he crouched, seized his throat with his left hand, yanked him hard, and dragged him onto the tower's table.

He kept coughing.

"Everything that happened today will be charged to you, old fool!" Jam could no longer contain his anger; just as Dazhuema was about to speak, Jam punched him in the face, cutting off his words, shouting angrily, "Ah! Ah! I gave you a chance! I gave you a chance! I gave you a chance! Bastard! Whore! Mongrel!"

After several successive punches, the archbishop's face instantly swelled, and blood flowed from his nose and mouth.

"May the gods judge you justly…" he uttered in a low voice.

"I don't give a damn about your Seven Gods!" he grabbed Dazhuema's robe collar, "Let them judge however they like; now tell me, where are the queen and queen mother?"

"They are persons awaiting judgment, of course they are in the holding cell." Dazhuema said calmly and slowly, his swollen face looking as ugly as it could be.

"Take soldiers and search!" he ordered his nearby guard detail.

The two obeyed and left swiftly.

"Damn it, the queen and queen mother will never be judged by the church," Jam said to the old, ugly face, "I told you that long ago. Whore, mongrel, because of you, how many will die today? I tell you, the one who will face judgment is you. I will personally burn you to death, demon!"

"Hah, the killer is you, this is all your fault. I am the Archbishop of the Seven Gods," he coughed, saying, "I am not a demon."

"You're not a demon, the shadow I saw couldn't be an illusion," Zhan Mu angrily said, "Could the dead attendant soldiers be an illusion! Fuck you. My guard is proof, demon! Bitch! Bastard!"

"But you survived!" he said mockingly, "You actually survived!"

"Yeah, bitch, bastard, demon, I survived!" Zhan Mu lost patience with him, "Shut his mouth, tie him up, take him out!"

He turned and went down the attic.

"My lord! We've found the Queen Dowager!" the soldier shouted at him.

"Hurry and take me there!"

Zhan Mu stepped onto the Holy Mother Tower, in the corridor seeing Se Xi, she was being supported by several soldiers. She wore a coarse linen-like robe, but she looked more beautiful than ever before!

"Zhan Mu!" Se Xi, seeing him, immediately rushed toward him, ignoring all soldiers, tightly embraced him, kissed him, "I know, I know, I just knew you would come to save me!"

No matter what religious war, even if others call him "Cruel Zhan Mu", he felt it was all worth it.

After the brief embrace, Se Xi's hands immediately stroked his face, just like that night before he donned the white robe, "Did you bring troops to kill your way in? Are there any Ti Li Er people?"

She asked eagerly.

"The Ti Li Er people haven't arrived yet." He answered.

"Great, great!" she happily clapped her hands, this was originally his favorite side.

After she said that, she revealed a strange smile, "Help me kill that bitch!"

"Who?"

"Ma Ge Li Ti Li Er!" her smile vanished, she said through gritted teeth.