Chapter 707: Run

The cries, footsteps, and wails on the street all turned into vague background noise; she only heard her own heartbeat—thump thump thump thump—faster than the Imperial Bow's arrows.

Qingque was pushed back half a step by the crowd, her back hitting a streetlamp.

Her gaze remained fixed on the sky.

Through the ever‑widening crack, in the gaps leaking between the branches, she saw something deeper.

An immensely massive figure was slowly moving from the other side of the crack toward Luofu.

It was not a tree; its scale could no longer be described in terms of a tree.

It was a being that was filling the sky with itself; each extension of its branches could cover a star sector, each contraction of its roots could crush several satellites.

The crack was being stretched wider by it, and the whole sky bore the weight of this being.

The Abundance aura was so dense it turned from gas to a liquid‑like texture, pouring down through the sky crack and drenching Luofu's streets.

The potted plants by the street instantly elongated, leaves turning from green to gold, stems thickening, roots breaking out of the pots and wildly spreading across the ground.

Moss in the corner burst out from the brick seams and, in an instant, covered the entire wall.

The street trees began sprouting new buds; within seconds the buds grew into branches, the branches flowered, the flowers bore fruit, the fruit split open releasing seeds, and the seeds fell to the ground and sprouted again.

All the plants entered an uncontrollable, frantic overgrowth in the same instant.

Someone shouted that the Abundance Offspring had arrived, another called for Imperial Bow's protection, and others just screamed, unable to utter a word.

And those closest to the crack were drenched through by the Abundance aura, standing still as they began to convulse.

Golden filaments surfaced on their bodies, swelling, writhing lumps bulged under the skin, nails fell off and regrew, and hair turned gold from the roots.

They fell on the street, becoming demon‑shadow bodies.

Arms bent backward, joints reversed, the proliferated branches sprouted from mouths, noses, and eye sockets, then lunged at the surrounding people.

A nearby companion screamed, trying to help; before the hand could touch, their own shoulder began to swell.

Qingque watched everything unfold on the street, with only one word looping in her mind: Shuhuo.

The crack in the sky kept widening, the golden branches kept spreading, and the eyes on those faces were looking toward her.

Not all eyes, but indeed a portion were fixed on her position.

Why?

Isn't that a dream?

She repeated the question in her mind three times, each louder than the last, yet her lips did not move, because her vocal cords no longer obeyed.

Everything in the dream was just a dream.

She had just woken up.

Why did the sky split open?

Why were those faces exactly like the ones in the dream, even more perfect, as if a living nightmare had its "dream" label ripped off and nailed straight into reality?

The sense of relief in the dream was ground to powder by reality at this moment; dying in a dream meant waking, but dying in reality meant death.

A fleeing passerby rushed past her, his shoulder colliding with her back.

Qingque staggered a step, something tripped her foot, and she fell backward, sitting on the ground.

Her palm pressed against the rough ground, the palm skin scraped by the stone slab, burning painfully.

Pain.

Blood seeped from the capillaries.

She lowered her head to look at her palm; the palm skin had been worn away by the rough stone slab, tiny blood droplets seeped from the damaged skin, mixing with the dust on the ground.

The pain was real, the crack was real, the branches were real, and that Abundance aura, so dense it made her throat taste sweet, was also real!

A demon‑shadow body lunged from the side of the street.

It was impossible to tell who it had been; its whole body was covered with proliferated golden branches, limbs twisted, fingers turned into five long wooden hooks, its mouth forced open by new branches, and its original tongue replaced by a blooming golden flower bud.

The hook claws rose, the blade edges glinting coldly in the reflection of the golden branches, about to cleave toward Qingque's head.

At that moment, a blade of ice‑blue sword qi sliced from behind her.

The sword qi left a crescent‑shaped trail in the air, its edges tinged with a faint white frost, striking the demon‑shadow body's side ribs precisely.

The hook claws halted less than a fist's length from Qingque's forehead.

Frost from the point of impact spread rapidly, covering half the demon‑shadow body, and the golden branches froze into brittle ice crystals.

Then the sword qi's force followed, hurling the demon‑shadow body outward, slamming it against the wall opposite the street, scattering shattered ice and broken branches across the ground.

Qingque lifted her head.

A flying sword hovered not far above her head, its blade still bearing lingering ice‑blue sword aura.

A young man stood on the flying sword, his golden ponytail dyed by the golden light cast by the Abundance tree into some hue, a long sword sheathed at his waist, its scabbard pattern identical to the flying sword beneath his feet.

It was Yan Qing.

He lowered his head, glanced at Qingque sitting on the ground, and a flash of obvious surprise crossed his youthful eyes.

"Qingque?"

Qingque instinctively nodded.

Her throat was clogged with too much, she could not utter a single word.

Yan Qing's gaze lingered on her face for a second, then swiftly swept over the street behind her, now occupied by demon‑shadow bodies and Abundance branches.

He furrowed his brows slightly, asked no further questions, and spoke at breakneck speed: "Miss Qingque, please leave here immediately! Go to Shen Ce Fu; that side of Shen Ce Fu is now the safest place, and Grand Diviner is there overseeing defenses!"

After saying that, he lightly tapped the flying sword with his toe; the sword carried him soaring, turning toward the rapidly overgrowing golden branches ahead on the street.

Ice‑blue sword aura surged from the unsheathed long sword at his waist, drawing a sleek arc in the air.

More flying swords rose from behind him—three, five, seven—each wrapped in ice‑blue sword qi, forming a fan‑shaped sword formation in the air, their blades aligned to strike the golden branches hanging from the crack.

Meanwhile, a massive Cloud Cavalry surged onto the battlefield from the opposite end of the street.

Armor glinted a cold, hard iron hue under the golden light, long spears formed a straight line, and the glow of talismans flickered throughout the formation.

Someone shouted to form a formation, and someone else shouted to cover the civilians' evacuation.

The clatter of weapons being drawn and the twang of crossbow strings mingled, turning the whole street into a pot of boiling molten iron.

This place is turning into a battlefield.

Qingque finally came to her senses.

Qingque braced against the ground and stood up; the scrape on Qingque's palm was tugged as she rose, and the pain made Qingque let out a soft gasp.

But Qingque did not stop; Luofu now gave Qingque no time to pause and think.

Run.

Run now.

Qingque forced all the scattered thoughts in Qingque's mind to shut off, turned around, and sprinted with the crowd toward the General's Mansion.

The brown twin braids swung behind, and the steps on the stone‑paved road produced a rapid series of sounds.

Behind, Yan Qing's sword formation collided with golden branches, and the ice‑blue sword light and golden tree shadows exploded across the sky.