Volume 4: Super-Tier Awakening & The Ancient Capital Calamity
Chapter 330
Discovering the First Blood Sacrifice Array
Deep at the bottom of the Nether Gorge—a place perpetually veiled in the gloomy shadows of towering, vertical cliffs that blocked out every stray beam of sunlight—lay a scene so grotesque and horrifying it was enough to churn the stomach of any living soul. Thick, oppressive waves of deathly aura billowed upward, mingling with the heavy stench of fresh blood and the sickening rot of long-decayed corpses, forming a stagnant, greyish-white fog that choked the vast space below.
The only illumination in this abyssal hellscape came from a malevolent, colossal grand array churning frantically at the very center of the valley.
It was an enormous octagonal altar, entirely constructed from thousands of pale human skulls and countless jumbled femurs. The hollow eye sockets of every soldier, peasant, and unfortunate civilian or mage dragged into this nightmare stared vacantly toward the center, radiating a deep, venomous hatred and a curse against a cruel world. Right at the heart of the altar sat a massive obsidian basin filled with a thick, viscous crimson liquid bubbling like molten lava. Bloated crimson bubbles rose to the surface and popped with a sickening, wet gulp, belching thick pillars of dark red smoke straight into the sky where they merged with a roiling canopy of blood-clouds that choked the heavens.
Around the base of the altar, over three hundred Black Vatican zealots knelt in concentric rings. They were draped in heavy, cowled robes of ash-grey and deep indigo that completely shadowed their faces, revealing only blood-shot eyes flashing with a frenzied, bloodthirsty madness. Their lips moved incessantly, chanting guttural, archaic dark incantations that sounded like low growls echoing straight from the underworld. With every syllable uttered, the surrounding space trembled slightly, sending ripples of pitch-black dark energy pulsing outward and warping the air into visible heat-haze distortions.
Standing tall at the apex of the altar, directly beside the boiling basin of blood, was a tall, gaunt middle-aged man. He wore a deep blue robe intricately embroidered with lifelike crimson spider lilies, their twisting vines seeming to writhe as if feeding on the surrounding carnage. This man was none of an ordinary rank; he was a High Blue-Tier Inquisitor of the Black Vatican—a figure wielding supreme authority, standing just beneath the elusive Red Cardinals!
With fanatical reverence, the Blue-Tier Inquisitor cradled a crystal-clear phial in his pale, twig-like hands. Inside swirled a liquid as luminous as an imperial jade, yet stained a perverse, alluring scarlet that radiated both pure life force and boundless resentment—it was the refined essence blood harvested from thousands of innocent lives just recently slaughtered!
A cold, grotesque smirk twisted his features. His gaze locked onto the boiling crimson fluid within the obsidian basin, and he muttered in a sharp, raspy voice like grinding metal:
“Flesh and blood sacrificed, spirit demons resurrected... When the Ancient Emperor awakens, this entire Divine Land shall kneel beneath the feet of our Holy Decree! You arrogant ants out there, enjoy your brief moments of pride. Once the grand array is complete, this place will become the mass grave of you all!”
Muttering to himself, he tilted the phial, slowly pouring the precious essence blood drop by drop into the eye of the array.
Ssssss... sssss...
The moment each drop of essence blood hit the boiling basin, thick plumes of black smoke hissed into the air, accompanied by the mournful, piercing shrieks of tens of thousands of vengeful ghosts echoing inside the minds of anyone within earshot. The pressure radiating from the blood array grew heavier by the second; the rocky ground beneath the gorge began to split open in sprawling, spider-web patterns of jagged fissures.
Right at that critical juncture, concealed behind rugged boulders not far from the altar, the elite reconnaissance squad of the Magic Bureau—alongside humanity’s paramount powerhouses—had completely locked onto their target. The irrefutable evidence of the Black Vatican’s monstrous atrocities lay bare before their eyes, leaving no room for denial or doubt.
Mu Ningxue stood atop a high crag, the fierce gales of the gorge whipping her long silver hair into a wild flurry. Her exquisite face remained as coldly impassive as an eternal glacier, yet her phoenix-like eyes flashed with a bone-chilling killing intent. In her hands, the Ice Crystal Slaughter Bow—a supreme magical artifact of destructive glacial might—was slowly drawn taut. Intricate ancient frost runes along the bow’s limbs flared brilliantly, condensing a five-foot-long ice arrow that radiated an absolute sub-zero chill, frosting the surrounding air into swirling flurries of descending snow crystals. The razor-sharp arrowhead locked dead onto the Blue-Tier Inquisitor standing high above.
Not far away, Tang Yue’s breathing completely merged with the howling wind. The shadowy twin daggers in her palms made not the slightest sound, yet their cicada-wing thin blades flickered with a gloomy emerald sheen, poised to tear open the throat of any zealot daring to interfere.
In another direction, Xie Zhaoyuan and the plump tiger-like mage quietly channeled their magic, gripping high-grade spatial-lock talismans capable of sealing the local dimensions to prevent any dark cultists from escaping via Blink or secondary teleportation arrays.
The atmosphere was taut as a pulled bowstring, waiting only for the spark that would annihilate these wicked monsters from the face of the earth.
And then, Lin Feng’s footsteps rang out.
He no longer concealed himself. Emerging from the gloom behind a jagged rock, Lin Feng stepped unhurriedly into the flickering, morbid light of the blood array’s flames. Tall of stature and radiating an imposing majesty, every step he took against the earth produced a dull thud that reverberated through the silent expanse. His gaze held no trace of fear or shock, only the absolute, chilling detachment of a divine arbiter descending upon mortals.
Deep within Lin Feng’s pupils, a raging golden flame erupted, blooming outward to form twin halos of spinning, mystical light. The terrifying aura of a peak-stage Archmage surged unchecked, utterly crushing the dark pressure of the grand array and suffocating the air across the entire gorge.
Standing straight, Lin Feng raised his right hand slightly. A brilliant golden fireball carrying the primordial strength of destruction slowly coalesced in his palm, emitting the crackling shriek of warping space:
“You Black Vatican rats are far too accustomed to living in the sewers. Today, this sovereign shall grant you a true, eternal rest. Your hour of judgment... has arrived!”
Lin Feng’s voice was not loud, yet it rolled like thunder across a clear sky, piercing through the canopy of blood-clouds and crashing straight into the hearts of the three hundred chanting cultists.
Hearing that cold decree, the Blue-Tier Inquisitor atop the altar jerked violently. The crystal phial in his hands nearly slipped from his fingers to shatter upon the ground. He whipped his head around in panic, his eyes widening in horror as they fixed on the source of the voice.
When he recognized the familiar towering silhouette and the eyes blazing with golden fire belonging to the young Major General who had shaken the entire world—the very man who had single-handedly toppled countless terrorist strongholds and slaughtered legions of dark powerhouses—the color drained completely from his face. His blood ran cold, leaving his skin as ashen and pale as a long-dead corpse.
“Lin... Lin Feng?!”
The Blue-Tier Inquisitor shrieked in terror, his voice cracking and entirely stripped of its earlier arrogance and madness, replaced by a marrow-deep, paralyzing dread. Dropping the precious phial without a second thought, he flailed his arms in desperation, howling orders at his dazed subordinates:
“Hurry... stop him! Kill him! Do not let him destroy the array core!”