Chapter 1152: Chapter 1151 – Fire Burning Sangharama Temple

Chapter 1151 – Fire Burning Sangharama Temple

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

A kite floated in the sky.

In some remote cranny, Wang Po wiped the muddy water from his face and squinted at the small mountain. He had naturally recognized that kite as belonging to Xiao Zhang.

Wasn't that kite dashed to pieces on the walls of Xuelao City several days ago?

In the past, a person had been tied to that kite, but today, it was a painting.

This painting was massive, ten-some zhang in both length and width. It swayed in the wind like a wave of wheat, but the scenes on the canvas remained strikingly clear and unaffected.

Upon seeing this painting, Divine General Fei Dian, who had just been saved by a Cinnabar Pill, focused his dazed eyes into sharp points.

Three elders in a supply convoy on the southern plains also squinted their eyes, their minds overcome with nostalgia.

Atop the walls of Xuelao City, in the shadow of a tower, Black Robe hid her hands in her sleeve as a jeering smile floated on her lips.

They could all see what was depicted in this painting.

It was Sangharama Temple, so gorgeous and ornate that it did not seem part of the mortal world.

The lineage of Buddhism had been cut off for countless years.

But the incense fires of Sangharama Temple lasted for far longer.

They had lasted until a thousand years ago, when they were finally annihilated by the fires of war.

The demons invaded and Luoyang was besieged for three months. Of every ten people in the city, three would survive. The people endured grievous casualties, and in total, six million people were killed.

The cultural landmark that was Sangharama Temple had endured untold damages.

All its beauty was lost to a single torch.

The scene depicted in this painting was precisely the fires burning Sangharama Temple.

There were now very few people who had ever seen Sangharama Temple, but many would have seen drawings of it in books, and knew of this story.

As for the siege of Luoyang, no human could forget that shame and misery.

That massive painting in the sky was almost lifelike, and seemed practically real.

Upon seeing those flames, the soldiers felt like they could hear the buildings creak in pain as they began to collapse.

There were also many faces on this painting: pained, twisted, confused, numb. In the end, these people had all died, died in this great fire.

Upon seeing this painting, the soldiers on the front lines once more thought of a simple principle.

This was history.

This was the source of anger.

This was why they had appeared at the base of Xuelao City.

……

……

As news of this painting and the information it bore was spread around the camps, a theory began to emerge.

It was said that, back then, the Painting Sage Daoist Wu would often spend his time painting the walls of Sangharama Temple. Was he the artist behind this painting?

The entire continent knew by now that Daoist Wu was not dead, that he was currently traveling the world with a certain person.

If Daoist Wu was here, did that mean… that person had also come?

When they thought about how a legendary figure like Wang Zhice might appear on the front lines at any time, the morale of the human armies received a major boost.

In contrast, the morale of the demon soldiers suddenly dipped, dropping even more than the human morale had risen.

To the human armies, the effects of Shang Xingzhou arriving or Wang Zhice arriving were about the same. To the demons, they were completely different. They probably did not know who the current human emperor was, or who Chen Changsheng was, or that Shang Xingzhou was the teacher of the human emperor and Chen Changsheng, but they undoubtedly knew who Wang Zhice was.

……

……

Dusk.

The setting sun painted red the western face of Xuelao City.

Half of the city seemed to be ablaze.

Suddenly, countless wild cheers broke out from atop the walls and the plains around the city.

These cheers sounded like the words 'Gu Lun Mu'.

Many demon soldiers could understand a few simple demon words, and they could never forget the meaning of this particular phrase.

When the demon soldiers crazily charged, wanting to exchange life for life, or when they were surrounded on a mountain and ultimately chose to commit suicide, they would always shout this phrase.

The meaning of this phrase was 'Divine Emperor'.

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The Demon Lord had finally appeared.

Chen Changsheng took the Thousand Li Mirror from Linghai Zhiwang's hand and used it to examine the walls of Xuelao City.

The sky today was particularly clear, and the setting sun did not affect his gaze. He could just barely make out what was happening on the city wall.

Even though it was somewhat fuzzy, Chen Changsheng was still able to recognize that face he had not seen for so many years.

The Demon Lord appeared much more composed that he had been at White Emperor City, and his visage appeared even more dignified.

When he saw the beard that the Demon Lord had deliberately grown, Chen Changsheng recalled Tang Thirty-Six. And then he saw the Demon Lord's horns.

Logically speaking, the Demon Lord, as a member of the Imperial clan, should not have had horns, but now he had two, and adorned with decorations as they were, they seemed particularly exaggerated.

It was clear that he was using them to win the affection of the lower-class demons.

……

……

Shang Xingzhou had arrived.

The Demon Lord had appeared.

This meant that the final battle was about to commence.

To the demons, nothing could be better than bitterly defending Xuelao City until the winter set in. But they had no means of resolving the problem of rations and fodder. This was exactly the same problem that had once confronted Luoyang. Even if they began to slaughter the common folk and do their best to decrease the non-military population, they had no means of addressing the provisions for the tens of thousands of tribal warriors encamped on the plains.

Moreover, the human armies would not leave for them any of the bodies of their comrades.

Time, place, and unity of the people were the three factors that decided the outcome of a war. The demons had the favorable location while the humans were united, but as for the time…

The recent snowfall seemed to say that the Heavenly Dao favored the demons, but the time of the final battle was for the humans to decide.

So who would end up being the final victor of this war?

……

……

It was yet another early morning.

The plains outside Xuelao City were quiet. It seemed like they had not yet awakened.

A horn suddenly blared.

The entire world woke up.

Every living being in the world was waiting for this moment.

Perhaps they had not even actually fallen asleep last night.

The wolf cavalry, the Demon race's primary fighting force, engaged in a fierce combat with the Eastern Army.

The black soil of the plains flew into the air and dropped back down like rain. The sounds of weapons clashing, mixed with groans and screams, could be heard all over the plains, occasionally mixed with the sounds of arrays triggering.

The Eastern Army managed with great difficulty to resist the tide of demons. Finally, at noon, they managed to buy a little time to rest.

The main camp sent an urgent order to the front lines, demanding that the troops at the very front retreat as quickly as possible and switch with the cavalry from the rear.

Feathered arrows flew through the air, suppressing the opposing side's spearmen and serving as a shield.

Everything had been proceeding smoothly and methodically, but problems had been encountered at a certain place.

The North Third Camp, which had been on the very front line since the start of the war, had refused to retreat.

Guan Feibai had refused to listen to the orders.

He was not the commander of the North Third Camp, but he was a disciple of the Mount Li Sword Sect and the strongest of the troops.

At the start, he and his two junior brothers had assaulted the cliff, and then they had been the first to reach Xuelao City.

The entirety of the North Third Camp now listened to Guan Feibai's orders.

Guan Feibai's refusal to retreat had a very simple reason behind it.

His junior brother Liang Banhu had died, and Guan Bai had also died to save them.

His eyes were already red from bloodlust.

At this most tense of moments, a crane cried, and Xu Yourong arrived on the scene.

Guan Feibai gripped his sword and narrowed his eyes at her. His voice was so hoarse that he seemed like a beast that had not drunk water for many days.

"Junior Sister, don't try to persuade me."

His narrowed eyes were completely red.

Xu Yourong knew that though he still seemed to be rational, his words in order, he was actually already crazy and impossible to persuade.

"I remember that Senior Brother Qiushan should have prepared a silk bag for each of you."

Xu Yourong stared into his eyes and said, "You should open it up and see what's inside."

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