Chapter 525: Another Sacrifice

Another Sacrifice

The flames of a prairie fire scorched the earth, while the rugged sound of pipe organs still echoed across the open fields.

Even a Grand Sage could not continuously cast "Forbidden Magic," yet the Hell Dwarven artillery hired by the Great Cemetery could fire nearly ten thousand rounds in a single day.

A single rocket shell cost about five gold coins—fifty thousand gold coins could buy a historic luxury hotel on Queen Street in Lei Ming City—but to the Demon King, it was nothing.

Besides, the money was paid in ghost money.

The only thing limiting the Great Cemetery's firepower was the production capacity of the Beifeng City factory.

Staring at the distant raging inferno, the 【Gold Medal Artillery Cart Soldier】 stood frozen for a long while before finally squeezing out a single sentence.

"Damn, this thing's even better than dwarf hand-cannons…"

The gray-green fog was entirely replaced by scorching smoke; the chaotic beasts lingering by the river died screaming—some blown to pieces, others roasted into charcoal.

Even the winding river nearly dried up under that searing heat!

It was proven: mortals could indeed overcome supernatural power.

Before absolute firepower, even the corruption of Chaos dissolved into dust.

Along with it were burned the Chaos eggs scattered along the riverbank, and countless twisted corpses of Green Forest Army soldiers and local villagers…

You Gou You Jian Qiang stretched his neck to gaze at the boiling sea of fire ahead and couldn't help but sigh.

"Holy shit, these veteran players are insane—when did they even build something this badass?"

You Tu You Mu Na: "Didn't they build it long ago? We used it back on Jia Na Continent."

You Gou You Jian Qiang: "??? How the hell did I miss that?"

You Tu You Mu Na: "Who knows why you didn't know."

The expansion of the Beta Test for "Disaster OL" happened after the Great Cemetery set foot on Jia Na Continent—by then, many players had already crafted numerous "special-grade" equipment.

But clearly, the dozen or so pipe-organ rocket launchers now before the new players were far superior to those the Great Cemetery had used on Jia Na Continent.

Led by 【Gulped Down the Chemical Pool】, a group of high-level Life Crafters not only improved the rocket propellant, significantly increasing the warhead's explosive charge, but also upgraded the basic explosive into a thickened incendiary agent and added white phosphorus!

In pure destructive power alone, each rocket shell's explosion was at least equal to a Gold-Rank fire spell!

Facing the overwhelming rain of fire, not only were the new players stunned, but even the well-traveled 【Pillar Rock Sword Saint】 Gang Te could not hide his shock.

Is this really… dwarf equipment?

He came from the Copper Pass in the Mountain Kingdom—he'd never seen dwarves there with such terrifying firearms!

In his mind, even the combined group fire magic of three imperial mage legions might not achieve such astonishing destruction and kill radius!

As Gang Te was still stunned, a shadow behind the smoke suddenly caught his attention.

It was a twisted, ink-green figure, shaped like a withered vine hanging from a tree, or an earthworm out of its pond.

Had it not been for the raging flames turning the surrounding vegetation to ash, forcing it to flee quickly, they might have completely missed it.

But now that its trail was exposed, it clearly couldn't escape…

His sharp gaze locked onto the fleeing figure; Gang Te narrowed his eyes and gripped the hilt of his greatsword.

Noticing his movement, Lei Deng spoke up.

"What are you going to do?"

Gang Te said without expression: "I saw a person—or maybe not a person. Either way, my instinct tells me it might know something about what happened here."

Lei Deng did not stop him, only asked:

"Should I have the artillery hold fire?"

Gang Te smiled faintly at this.

"No need."

Though he admitted the roaring flames were fierce, they were still far from capable of harming him.

After all, he was a Sword Saint!

The moment he finished speaking, his rock-solid form moved.

With impossible speed, he charged into the burning inferno, darting toward the twisted green shadow like a flying cannonball, watched in stunned silence by all.

So fast!

Bu Lun Nan was stunned once again by his power, finally understanding what "half-god" truly meant.

He was the foremost beneath the gods, the absolute limit attainable by a transcendent body.

In the mortal world, the sword in his hand was invincible.

Sensing the approaching danger, the twisted green shadow ran faster, diving into the distant forest like a rabbit bolting into thick brush.

"Think you can run?"

Gang Te smirked, his legs exploding with force—he covered a kilometer in an instant.

Seeing the Sword Saint suddenly appear behind him, the Alchemist Jien's face twisted into a look of pure horror and fury as he hurled three vials backward.

"Die! Go die!"

The vials, filled with ominous liquid, spun through the air and shattered into a thick ink-green fog!

But this fog was feeble compared to the earlier one that had blanketed the entire plain—after all, that one had been born from the blood and flesh of hundreds of thousands.

As the fog drifted toward his face, Gang Te didn't even glance at it—he thrust his greatsword forward.

Before the icy blade reached, the howling wind of the sword had already scattered the fog.

With no escape left, Jien gritted his teeth and turned to fight, his thick arms splitting from his shoulder blades into four limbs, gripping short swords and daggers to block.

"Clang—!"

The sharp sound shattered his weapons; before he could even see where the blade came from, he was flung over a hundred meters backward, rolling and crashing into the forest.

"Cough—"

Jien spat blood, leaning against a pine tree as he staggered to his feet.

That single strike had not only shattered his weapons but also his wrist bones.

Worse still, flying shards of metal and scattered sword qi had carved deep gashes across his body!

Watching the Sword Saint approach calmly, Jien's twisted face finally showed bone-deep terror.

One strike had reduced him, a Chosen of Chaos, to this… Is this the power of a half-god?

He didn't know Gang Te had held back—if not, he'd already been dead.

"Did you cause what happened here?"

Rocket shells still roared in the distance; hearing the sound carried by the hot wind, Jien trembled violently, yet forced a defiant grin from his twisted face.

"Hah… so what if I did? I gave them release. They were going to starve anyway—better their useless flesh be offered to me…"

He'd wanted to add that at least he'd slowed down Sheng Xi's lackeys, but clearly, even his all-out effort had failed—so he left that half-sentence unspoken.

Gang Te stared at him coldly, suppressing his rage.

"It seems you feel no remorse. I'll send you to meet the devil you worship."

Jien: "Devil? Hah… if the devil hadn't noticed us, you'd never have looked our way!"

Gang Te glanced at this trembling, still-defiant creature with surprise.

"So you knew that voice was a devil."

Perhaps sensing his death was near, Jien let out a hysterical scream.

"Ha! You think you're the only smart one? I know exactly what it is—I don't care what it is! At least with Sheng Xi, I'd die—with it, I live!"

"Is that so?"

Gang Te glanced around, then looked back at the hysterical man—his voice grew calm, tinged with pity.

"I don't think so."

It was merely another path to death.

Suddenly, Jien realized the forest had vanished—replaced by endless desert and desolation.

Watching the Sword Saint standing atop the dune, his pupils shrank, then relaxed in resignation.

So this was a half-god's domain.

The feeling… wasn't so impressive after all…

Jien laughed maniacally and charged forward—only to be split in two by the incoming sword shadow, dissolving into the blowing sands…

…

At the same moment, far away in Jing Shui Tan, the roar of artillery echoed across the fields.

Thick, long flames slammed into distant positions, explosions rising in successive plumes of smoke!

Those were dwarf mortars!

Though less accurate than the cannons of the Campbell Duchy, their power far surpassed them.

Unfortunately, the dwarf bombardment achieved nothing.

The Green Forest Army skirmishers hiding in the trenches had already retreated to the rear forest via tunnels dug by ratmen, leaving behind only a hundred or so corpses—not worth mourning.

Meanwhile, the dwarf artillery position suddenly collapsed—several mortars plunged straight into the caving tunnel!

The tunnel was clearly not dug by dwarves—it was the ratmen's engineers, who had tunneled from pre-prepared passages while the dwarves were busy supporting the front line.

Before the dwarf artillerymen could react, hooded ratman warriors leapt from the tunnels, wielding long-handled hook-sickles and catching the dwarves completely off guard!

Unlike ordinary small slave rats, these clan warriors stood a full meter tall and had received the blessing of "Gluttonous Rat" Lord Geluo—their waists were even thicker than dwarves'.

Against these dwarves, who were poor at close combat, they gained the upper hand instantly.

"Roar—!"

One clan rat warrior opened his bloody maw, unleashing a foul-smelling roar, swinging his hook-sickle in a single arc—cutting a dwarf artilleryman clean in half!

Intestines spilled across the ground!

The slave rats behind them surged forward, frantically shoving the fallen flesh into their mouths, desecrating the corpses in a sacrifice meant to shatter the enemy's morale!

Their abilities extend beyond this.

Aside from serving as battlefield cannon fodder, they are also offerings to the priests under Gernoth, the "Gluttonous Rat."

Behind the gorging slave rats, a rat priest wearing a mask of human bone stepped forward, clutching a bone staff, shaking a drum made of human skin, and chanting dark, obscure incantations.

Waves of emerald-green soul-fire seized the necks of dozens of slave rats like spectral hands.

Using these slave rats as sacrificial flesh, a three-meter-long "War Rat" burst forth from the bloody altar, charging forward in a single rush and smashing the dwarven artillerymen attempting to form a shield wall.

"Kikikiki!!!"

Watching the giant rat descend upon the battlefield, the ratfolk let out piercing, ecstatic shrieks, their round eyes turning blood-red as they fought the surrounding dwarven artillerymen with renewed ferocity.

Though caught off guard by the ratfolk's tunnel attacks, the dwarves of the Mountain Kingdom were clearly no pushovers.

They had anticipated these treacherous little rodents would never fight them honorably; five deadly hundred-man squads were already charging toward the ambushers.

Unlike ordinary dwarf warriors, they wore heavy plate armor, steel helmets leaving only their eyes exposed—eyes blazing with fury—and wielded two-handed battle-axes taller than two stacked dwarves!

The blades bore engraved inscriptions, waiting to be awakened by the blood of enemies.

They were called "Oathbound Warriors."

At Bronze Pass, their name struck terror into the hearts of countless cannibal ogres who worshipped destruction!

"Kill—!"

At the command of the dwarf captain leading from the front, the Oathbound Warriors surged forward like steel meat grinders, mercilessly shredding the rat soldiers who reached their lines.

The War Rat roared and charged toward the dwarves swinging their axes.

Two war machines collided.

Dozens of heavily armored dwarves were flung through the air like overturned barrels!

Yet the War Rat born of chaotic sacrifice gained no advantage either.

Heavy axes weighing over a hundred jin struck its body in rapid succession, tearing open its pale gray fur and laying bare its flesh.

The War Rat let out a pained roar, writhing its bloated body to flee—but the hundred-man squad clung to it like iron chains, refusing to let go as axes rained down upon it no matter how it thrashed.

"Roar—!"

The dwarf captain roared, driving his short sword deep into its right eye, then being flung off its back as the beast screamed in agony.

Clutching the War Rat's nape, the dwarf captain caught a dagger thrown by a comrade and plunged it again and again into the fat rat's neck until the writhing, rampaging monster was pinned to the ground.

The bloody slaughter continued!

The captain had no time to celebrate; he wiped blood from his face and plunged back into battle, fighting the endless stream of rat soldiers pouring from the tunnel.

Perhaps sensing an opportunity—or coveting the dozen dwarven mortars and their supply lines—the clan rat warriors kept surging forward, showing no sign of retreat.

But this suited the dwarves perfectly.

They feared ambushes from these little vermin—not direct combat!

Rat-hunting specialists carrying flame-throwers and crossbows were already rushing toward them; soon, these little rodents would witness true hell!

Yet these brave dwarf warriors had underestimated the ratfolk's numbers—and overestimated the marching speed of their comrades' short legs.

After fifteen minutes of brutal fighting, reinforcements still hadn't arrived, while more and more rats poured from the tunnel, as if intending to deploy a full ten-thousand-man force here!

A second War Rat was summoned; though ultimately subdued by the skilled Oathbound Warriors, exhaustion now crept onto every face.

As the tide of battle seemed about to turn, a rapid clatter of hooves suddenly rang out from nearby.

Watching the dust cloud rolling toward them, countless dwarves' faces lit up with relief.

It was the cavalry of the Campbell Duchy!

The citizen cavalry charging across the marshland struck the battlefield's flank like a falling meteor, sending countless rat soldiers flying like stones kicked from a riverbed.

The rat commander, panicked, raised his polearm to turn and fight—but a lance pierced his chest, reducing half his body to a spray of blood mist!

The leader was none other than Eileen Campbell!

In her hand, a lance shimmering with holy light; her polished breastplate gleamed under the sun, majestic and awe-inspiring; her eyes sharp as blades, like a goddess descending from heaven.

Seeing their commander slain in one blow, the ratfolk were utterly terrified, shrieking "Kikikiki!" as the entire thousand-man unit collapsed and scattered in flight!

"Allies!"

The commanding captain roared in triumph, driving his warriors to fight even harder.

They swore to slaughter every last one of these ugly rodents, sever their rat heads as trophies, and hang them on the castle walls of Hatred Peak as their badges of honor!

Seeing Campbell's cavalry join the fray, the rat slingers circling the battlefield's edge hurled their slingshots, launching whistling stones to kill the towering foes.

But to the ratfolk's shock, every stone struck a milky-white barrier and bounced harmlessly away—striking their own comrades instead, smashing skulls and sending them screaming to the ground!

This was the legend of King Aaren Campbell: said to be protected by holy light, he rode the battlefield unharmed by stray arrows!

After Aaren Campbell's death, this cherished legend became a tangible miracle—forged into the Revered Light, shaped by the faith of countless believers!

The stones hurled by rat slings lacked the power of demon crossbow bolts; they could never pierce that radiant barrier!

With the arrival of the Campbell citizen cavalry, the balance of battle tipped once more in favor of the dwarves.

Seeing their allies pinned down, the Greenwood Army, who had retreated earlier into the forest via the tunnel, turned back and, under orders, charged headlong into the smoke-choked battlefield.

The Campbell infantry had already reloaded and waited along their path of advance.

Not only the Campbell soldiers, but also the "short-legs" who had failed to reach the artillery positions—now under dwarf officer orders—halted their advance, turned, and aimed their flame-throwers and heavy crossbows at the "Chaos Apostles" emerging from the forest.

By ancient pact, the dwarves of the Mountain Kingdom would not strike against humans on human soil.

But clearly, these creatures who had sold their souls to Chaos were no longer human!

"Fire!"

The dwarf captain leading the flame-throwers roared and pulled the trigger.

His shoulders rocked back as a thick, long dragon of flame erupted from his barrel, drenching the Greenwood Army's vanguard fifty meters away!

"Aaaah!!!"

Drenched in scorching oil, the front-line "Green-Turbans" screamed as they instantly became living torches.

Seeing their comrades' fate, the Greenwood soldiers behind turned pale—but under their officers' shouts, they forced themselves forward anyway.

"Don't fear the dwarves! Their tubes won't fire long! Charge and chop them to pieces! Cut off their heads as offerings to the Great True God!"

A thousand-commander roared, swinging his longsword—no longer hiding his true nature.

All felt it: the grand sacrifice had reached its final moment. Soon, they would receive the gift from the Void, standing victorious upon a new stage.

What mattered now was not concealment—but proving their devotion to their god at any cost!

"For Ulgos! For our Kaelan!"

"Kill!!!"

Thunderous roars shook the battlefield as the Greenwood Army surged forward, charging the dwarves bearing flame-throwers.

Their judgment was correct: the dwarves' flame-thrower oil was indeed scarce; one burst exhausted it.

This weapon was never meant for open plains—it only achieved true power within tunnels.

It could instantly drain the oxygen from a cave, suffocating the ratfolk, while dwarves, with their superior breath-holding, could endure until reaching air again.

But the charging Green-Turbans, though aware of the dwarves' limited oil, forgot that those standing here weren't just dwarves—there were also the Campbell soldiers, long waiting.

The front-line grenadiers struck first, hurling jars filled with black powder into the Greenwood ranks.

At the same moment as the deafening explosions, the Campbell infantry fired their muskets in unison—rows of muzzles spat long tongues of flame, mowing down the stunned, disoriented rebels.

Volley after volley rang out; the high-spirited Campbell infantry advanced steadily through the acrid smoke, marching to the beat of war drums.

Though the fighting continued, victory now seemed merely a matter of time…

Near the distant artillery position, Eileen, spear in hand, pulled her reins tight, halting her horse as she stared at the distant smoke, frowning slightly.

Noticing her concern, Teresa rode up beside her, speaking respectfully.

"What is it, Your Highness?"

"Something's wrong," Eileen said after a moment's thought, voice low. "Rolandar always avoided direct confrontation with us—why has he suddenly become so bold today?"

Teresa: "Perhaps he's grown tired of playing hide-and-seek?"

Eileen shook her head.

"Teresa, I won't assume our enemy is that foolish—especially after he's caused us so much trouble… clearly, he's a cunning old rat."

Simply put, she saw no advantage in his actions.

As Eileen pondered, the clear sky suddenly darkened.

A cloud, source unknown, loomed overhead, accompanied by a crushing pressure.

Eileen's heart sank; her eyes snapped toward the forest ahead, filled with shock.

That aura…

So familiar!

When her father, the king, fought the Demon Lord of Thunder County, he had briefly shattered the Purple Crystal barrier using the Revered Light—and slew Lei Ji Dragon, forging the legend of Aaren Campbell!

But now, the aura drifting from ahead felt even greater than her father's!

And unlike her father's…

This was a terrifying force, as if rising from a chasm deeper than hell itself—its sole purpose: to devour all living things.

Was it Rolandar?

Eileen's eyes widened in disbelief.

She remembered clearly: last time they fought, he was only Diamond rank!

How in a month less than that had he gained the aura of a Purple Crystal master?!

Of course, he must have just broken through—his control over this power was still crude, or else he could have concealed it better, avoiding detection.

But another possibility remained—

He never intended to hide.

A rhythmic voice suddenly rose from the endless depths of the forest, like the opening of a minstrel's ballad…

"Friends from the Campbell Principality, I am glad you care so much for your poor neighbors—but you should have arrived a little sooner…"

"If you had, I might have invited you for a drink!"

"Instead of chopping you into mince and throwing you into the pot."

(End of Chapter)