Chapter Sixty-One: Never Before So Devastating

High upon the city wall, Ming’s once-relaxed brow knit itself into a deep frown, his expression growing ever darker and more grave. This was a legion of tens of thousands of cultivators—no mere rabble of common soldiers. It was no exaggeration to say that any one of them, taken alone, could rival the head of a martial sect in the mortal world. Such strength could easily crush any place on the Black Earth Continent, could in an instant wipe out most nations.

Yet this formidable force, faced with those ghastly white monstrosities, gained not the slightest advantage—indeed, they were steadily forced back, step by step.

“How is this possible? How can this be? What in the world are these pallid monsters? Where have they come from?” Ming gripped the wooden parapet before him, breath coming in short, ragged bursts, all former composure utterly vanished.

From the corner of the city, a cacophony of bestial roars echoed. The air grew thick with the stench of blood.

These pale monsters had inherited the terrifying powers of some unknown progenitor; they needed no arduous cultivation. Upon maturity, they possessed strength to rival many a cultivator. Their flesh was tougher, claws sharper, strength far greater—they could easily tear through the meager defenses of the ancient apes, rip out their innards, and devour them with savage relish.

Simply put, compared to ordinary cultivators, these creatures were far more formidable. For them, flesh and blood were not merely sustenance—they were the source of strength, and the key to their continual evolution.

Across the vast expanse of the battlefield, shrouded in the smoke of blood and sorrow, bodies fell in a ceaseless tide, only to be pounced upon and quickly stripped to the bone by the ravenous, pallid spawn.

With a resounding crash, yet another cultivator was brought down. He had no time even to cry for help before a pursuing white monster bit through his neck and began to feast, shuddering with delight.

The crunching of bone and flesh, the slurping and gnawing, mingled with the screams of the dying, so sharp and horrifying that Li Er, who had just barely regained his senses, lost control of his bladder in terror. He stared in horror at the monster dining before him, his heart pounding faster and faster, drumming erratically, his mind blank and his voice lost in panic.

Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he could never have imagined such a scene—the sight of his companions being devoured, flesh and viscera stripped, even the brains sucked dry, was enough to make his hair stand on end and fill him with a bone-deep dread.

But before Li Er could react, a monster lurking in the shadows—its gaze fixed on him—suddenly leapt forth and bit off his head in a single motion.

Such scenes drove many cultivators to break down in terror, screaming and desperately trying to flee back into the city. Death was not new to them, but never had they witnessed carnage so gruesome. Even the dead were left with nothing: flesh, viscera, and brains consumed without a trace. The sheer brutality shattered their mental defenses.

A simple corpse they could accept; but this—this grotesque feasting, this relentless gnawing—was more than they could bear.

“Cowards, all of you!” Ming muttered coldly, his face ashen. Yet his body betrayed him, trembling slightly despite his words.

Even the reigning sovereign of the Li Dynasty felt fear. He had executed many who defied him during his reign, but compared to the slaughter wrought by these pale beasts, his own deeds were nothing.

Fortunately, within the ranks of the tens of thousands, there were a few true elites among the common cultivators—three men and one woman, who could soar unaided into the sky, wielding powers unimaginable to most. With a flick of the wrist, they conjured blades of wind, spears of earth, even drew the waters of rivers and lakes to unleash torrents.

It was their intervention alone that stemmed the monsters’ advance.

The battle raged from noon until dusk. As twilight dimmed and the blood-red sun dipped low, the pale horrors finally withdrew, no longer pressing their assault despite the heavy losses.

Yet they did not retreat far, merely melting into the surrounding mountains to recuperate, clearly biding their time for another attack.

At the city gates, a dense trail of footprints, stamped in blood, stretched all the way to the horizon.

The sunset bled across the battlefield, and those who survived huddled together, tending to the wounded and the fallen, their hoarse lamentations echoing—grateful, at least, to still draw breath.

In the hastily arranged camp, the crackle of the bonfire sent shadows flickering, its yellow glow pushing back the night so that all within seemed as bright as day.

Within the camp sat three figures—the three men and one woman.

The woman spoke first, her voice as melodious as a flowing stream. She was stunningly beautiful, with long black hair cascading down her back, her features alluring, her laughter charming—no less lovely than the current Saintess of the Mercy Monastery.

“I’m afraid I cannot identify them,” replied the elder beside her, stooped and white-haired, shaking his head. “I consider myself well-traveled and learned. I have seen much, heard much, even debated the mysteries of the Dao with the head of Jade Spring Sanctuary, one of the Eight Great Sects. Yet never have I encountered such terrifying creatures as these pallid monsters.”

He took a swig from the gourd at his waist, his furrowed brow easing just a little.

“Young Master Ya, do you have any insights?” the old man asked, prompting the woman to glance silently at the other man.

This young man was much younger than the elder—no more than twenty or thirty, with strikingly handsome, chiseled features. He seemed carefree by nature, but the glint in his eyes betrayed a sharp intelligence.

“If even the venerable Elder cannot recognize them, I certainly cannot. Yet something comes to mind, though I am unsure if I should speak of it.”

“Pray, Young Master Ya, do not hesitate,” the beautiful woman urged.

“I wonder—have either of you heard the legends of Ancestor Chi?”