Chapter 537: Few Are Awake, Many Are Foolish (6)

Chapter 537: Few Are Awakened, Many Are Fools (Part VI)

While the cries of ritual summoning boiled within the city of Jinling, a similarly fierce slaughter raged inside the Central Branch.

The defensive positions established along the outer perimeter had by now been entirely overrun by the Minggui Warrior Regiment, forcing the surviving guards to retreat into the Elders' Council compound, a colossal circular structure of black roofs and grey walls.

Massive, long-range heavy armors had assumed a crouching tiger stance a hundred paces away, metal outriggers snapping out from their ankles to anchor them deep into the earth. Their twin arms, shaped like cannon muzzles, were raised high. Needing no precise aim, they poured forth a ceaseless torrent of flame and artillery.

Thick, acrid black smoke rolled upward. Amidst the continuous, deafening explosions, the building of the Central Council shrieked in agony, its outer walls completely stripped away to expose the iron-clad inner layers, which buckled and twisted under the bombardment.

The Minggui Warrior Regiment, having bided their time for years, remained motionless until the moment came, but once they struck, it was with the devastating sweep of a wildfire.

A great number of Mo-adepts were captured and subdued before they could even comprehend what was happening. Stripped of the constraints of their master pacts, the Minggui easily paralyzed most of the defensive installations within the Central Branch, advancing smoothly to the Elders' Council at the heart of the compound in a remarkably short time.

Thus far, the uprising promised total victory, yet Long Zong, temporarily borrowing the body of Qing Si, gazed at the Elders' Council submerged in gunfire, his expression exceptionally grim.

"Liu Xianzhou, Mo Guhuang... what on earth are you scheming?"

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

The whistling of tearing air was sharp and piercing as another violent volley commenced. In the flash of fire, the main gates of the Elders' Council seemed to swell suddenly before bursting with an earth-shattering roar. Shattered iron fragments flew wildly in all directions as the gates collapsed entirely.

Guards hidden within were thrown to the ground by the residual force of the blast, letting out agonized wails, while even the melee heavy armors waiting for an opening on the periphery stood frozen in place, stunned by the tremendous noise.

In the brief moment that the echo reverberated, whether human or armor, not a soul reacted. Everyone remained frozen like statues, as though their very souls had been blasted from their bodies.

"Charge!"

Though doubts swirled in his heart, the arrow was already on the string and had to be loosed. Long Zong hesitated no longer; he leapt onto a massive heavy armor standing three Zhang tall, and standing upon its shoulder plate, raised his arm and bellowed.

His shout, specially amplified, was like a rising tide of fury that dragged all the floating souls back down to the battlefield. The snapped-to-awareness melee heavy armors moved almost in unison, raising swords and drawing blades as they rushed forward in a mad dash.

The damp earth trembled continuously under the hammering of iron soles. The vanguard of heavy armors advanced with the speed of a thunderbolt, plunging through the collapsed breach in an instant to engage the helmeted and armored Central Branch Mo-adepts in a brutal, flesh-ripping, bone-crushing slaughter.

Clang!

A long saber hummed as it hacked into a shoulder plate. Ao Hu roared in fury, grasping the hilt with both hands and swinging with all his might. The edge tore through armor plates and flesh, sending half a mangled torso flying high into the air as brilliant blue electric sparks and white blood shot skyward.

As a fourth-rank melee heavy armor, Ao Hu moved like a swimming dragon across the battlefield, his heavy, powerful war saber hacking wildly into the enemy ranks, leaving not a single opponent capable of matching him.

"Liu Xianzhou... Liu Xianzhou..."

The self-muttering echoed within his mind. Covered in blood, Ao Hu raised his eyes to scan his surroundings, finally spotting that face among the chaotic battlefield—the face etched into his bones, impossible to forget for eternity.

"You are here!"

An excited laugh emanated from Ao Hu's blood-red mechanical eyes as he stamped his foot, rushing out in an instant. Just then, a cold gleam came hurtling from a diagonal angle. Caught unprepared and unable to dodge in time, Ao Hu could only choose to roll on the spot, barely evading a straight-bladed long saber aimed directly at his head.

Rolling to his feet, Ao Hu looked back to see a Mo-adept clad in white armor staring coldly at him, a slender straight saber gleaming with chilling light in his hand.

As a member of the mobile guard directly under the Elders' Council, Ao Hu naturally recognized this man and armor blocking his path. The man was named Wang Ye, and the armor was named Blizzard.

Without a single redundant word, both sides moved simultaneously.

The armor plates on Wang Ye's legs spewed visible streams of rushing air, unleashing an astonishing burst of speed as his straight saber slashed upward toward Ao Hu's chest.

Ao Hu held his saber with both hands and brought it down with crushing force, but the moment the blades collided, a boundless, immense force surged upward, actually lifting his feet off the ground and launching his body uncontrollably into midair.

Clang!

The straight saber pursued him instantly. The armor plates on Ao Hu's left arm clanked sharply as a dark-gleaming arm-shield assembled itself in a split second, blocking his front.

With a muffled thud, Ao Hu's form was struck down from midair, smashing a sizable crater into the iron ground where he landed.

Before he could rise again, gunfire exploded directly above him. From the beast-mouth ports on Wang Ye's shoulders, a scorching torrent of bullets erupted, straight toward Ao Hu.

Ao Hu rolled continuously to the side to evade, seizing the brief gap as the bullet stream swept past to twist his body and leap up. At the same time, his arm-shield extended to cover half his body, his legs bending to exert force as he launched skyward like a cannonball.

Clang!

With a sharp, piercing screech, the long saber in Ao Hu's hand was snapped cleanly in two, and he was struck back down to the ground once more by Wang Ye's twisting leg sweep.

The thrusters on the back of Wang Ye's armor surged with flames as he pursued the falling Ao Hu, thrusting his twin-held slender straight saber down like a spear with ferocious intent.

In a life-or-death moment, Ao Hu, lying flat on his back, could only attempt to seize the bare blade with his hands, his ten fingers gripping the descending tip of the sword with absolute desperation!

"Humph."

A cold snort escaped Wang Ye's lips. Standing firmly with legs spread, he pressed his weight downward, infusing furious power into the straight saber to sever the mechanical fingers blocking its path one by one.

Ao Hu's eyes burned a terrifying crimson, the joints across his body letting out sharp, cracking pops, yet he still could not stop the tip of the blade from slowly drawing closer.

Just as Ao Hu was about to have his skull pierced, a fierce, vicious wind suddenly blew in.

Startled, Wang Ye hastily brought his saber across his body, only for the newcomer's fist to smash directly onto the spine of the blade, sending both man and sword flying backward.

And Ao Hu, having snatched his life back, finally saw clearly who his savior was.

The Tianque Martial Artist, Shen Li.

There was no dialogue. The moment Shen Li reached out to pull Ao Hu up, Ao Hu's armored chassis suddenly burst apart, enveloping Shen Li's body like a dark cloud. It directly drove away the heavy armor Shen Li had originally been wearing, overlaying itself onto him.

"Slaughter this bastard, then help me kill Liu Xianzhou, and from now on, I, Ao Hu, will run with you!"

"Sure thing."

Shen Li grinned, raising his eyes to look at that snow-white figure, his gaze burning with battle intent.

Wang Ye sensed the other's provocative glare at the same time, meeting it with an unyielding stare.

The gaze of the two clashed in the air, the killing intent on each intertwining and surging. The humans and armors fighting around them felt a sudden, inexplicable tremor, instinctively backing away to the sides.

With Shen Li and Wang Ye as the anchors, a vacant, empty corridor appeared amidst the otherwise chaotic battlefield.

Empty-handed, Shen Li took a step forward. After one Zhang, he was as swift as wind and rain; after three Zhang, he was as fast as thunder and lightning, his figure rushing before Wang Ye in the blink of an eye.

Choosing to wait at his ease for a fatigued enemy, Wang Ye maintained a cautious expression, raising his blade to slash the moment Shen Li drew near. Yet in the next instant, his vision blurred, and his opponent's figure vanished inexplicably. Though the Minggui named Blizzard instantly warned him that the man was on his left, a heavy, powerful punch had already landed on his flank.

Bang!

Wang Ye's body buckled violently downward, his pupils dilating. Though he no longer possessed actual internal organs, he felt a sharp agony at this moment so intense it was unbearable.

Before he could recover from the pain, Shen Li's figure flashed into existence on the other side, another fist driving straight for his abdomen.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sound of air exploding rang out incessantly. Reduced to a punching bag, Wang Ye swayed left and right, shocking dents marring his entire body.

Crash!

Wang Ye's eyes widened completely as milky-white blood erupted from his mouth and nose. The heavy armor on his body shattered and disassembled, and the straight saber in his hand clattered to the ground.

At this moment, it dawned on him—this was not a battle between equals, but a one-sided slaughter.

"He's dead! Liu Xianzhou is dead!"

Just then, an ecstatic shout suddenly rang out.

Shen Li's phantom-like, moving figure came to a sudden halt, turning to look toward the source of the sound.

Wang Ye, who had already drawn his last breath, finally ceased his pitiful swaying in the wind of the fists, collapsing backward onto the ground with a thud.

"Dead?"

Ao Hu blurted out in surprise, instantly separating from Shen Li's body and rushing over with quick strides.

"Central Council Elder Liu Xianzhou is dead! Central Council Elder Liu Xianzhou is dead!"

Ao Hu finally saw clearly that the heavy armor shouting at the top of its lungs was none other than his brother, Jin Shou. And the severed head he held high in the air was precisely the Liu Xianzhou he had locked onto in the crowd earlier!

"He's really dead."

Ao Hu froze in place, and the next moment, unable to restrain himself, he raised both hands and shouted angrily: "Liu Xianzhou is dead!!"

The roar was like an invisible hand gripping everyone's throat, and the battlefield that had been shaking with the sound of killing suddenly fell silent.

Those who were fighting with blood and the armored warriors alike were startled, instinctively turning to look toward the source of the sound. Behind the skull held in the golden beast's hand, a moment of joy and sorrow appeared, the ink-armored warriors whose arms had been sprayed red with ink cheered with delight, while humans looked as if they had lost a beloved ancestor, their will to fight instantly crumbling.

"Is he really dead? Does this mean we've won?"

Long Zong stood on the periphery of the jubilant armored crowd, victory was already within sight, yet his eyes showed not the slightest hint of a smile.

There was no other reason; the entire process had been far too smooth, so smooth that Long Zong couldn't bring himself to believe it.

Since the uprising began, they had encountered no resistance except when attacking the Council of Elders, where they faced opposition from the Council's direct guard.

As for Jian'ai, they had naturally perished due to Ao Hu's sudden attack. But what about the Non-Public Academy? The Jie Cemetery? And all those research groups?

Long Zong had not encountered any of these institutions; the backbone of the entire Academy had vanished as if evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace.

Even setting those aside, Liu Xianzhou was a genuine pioneer of the Ink Order, a formidable figure capable of founding an entirely new technological sect within the Ink Sequence. How could he have been killed so easily?

Not to mention the Ink Hermit Mo Guhuang, Peng Ze, and Shu Ye, who had never appeared at all. Where were they hiding? When would they show themselves?

As he pondered this, a bone-deep chill enveloped Long Zong's mind.

"Old senior, sometimes don't overcomplicate things. Winning is winning."

A laugh echoed in his ear, and Long Zong, lost in thought, turned to see Shen Li standing beside him, grinning: "Besides, you're not fighting alone."

"What do you mean?" Long Zong asked, puzzled.

Shen Li smiled but said nothing, merely tilting his chin toward the direction of the Council's gate.

Long Zong looked back and saw a familiar figure slowly walking in from the entrance.

"Mo Guhuang?!"

Long Zong's heart sank instantly, and he was about to roar a warning to the still-jubilant spirits, when he heard Shen Li speak with a smile.

"Old senior, you must have been wondering why my elder brother agreed to help you kill someone but never showed up, right? It's not that he's unreliable—it's something I, as the younger brother, could handle."

Shen Li patted Long Zong's shoulder and said, "Let me introduce you—this is Zhao Mengze, one of the Five Pillars of Tianque, the master of the Three Dreams of Yin and Yang."

As soon as he finished speaking, the solitary Mo Guhuang, who had been walking with his head down, suddenly looked up and gave Long Zong a slight smile.

In an instant, a flood of information rushed into his mind like enlightenment, and Long Zong quickly understood everything.

"Why is Tianque helping us?"

Long Zong pondered for a moment, then turned to ask Shen Li.

"The artisans who betrayed us back then were from the Ink Order, not you wanderers. After so many years as brothers, if you're in trouble, shouldn't we lend a hand?"

"Then why did you wait until now to come?"

The mischievous smile on Shen Li's face slowly faded, and he said seriously, "Because we only just saw that spark of hope."

As the two conversed, everyone present, both human and armored, noticed the solitary figure entering.

The boiling cheers came to an abrupt halt, followed by shouts of alarm, the trembling of blades and spears, the charging of firearms, and the shaking of armor plates—all sounds mingling into chaos, followed by heartstrings that had just relaxed now tightening again.

Mo Guhuang stopped in his tracks, facing countless eyes, and spoke aloud.

"I am Mo Guhuang, Dean of the Academy. For years, Elder Liu Xianzhou, for his own selfish desires, has oppressed and exploited the human artisans who worked alongside the Ink Wanderers, leading to this tragic fratricidal conflict. Now the culprit has been brought to justice."

"Liu Xianzhou, you are already dead."

In some hidden corner of the Academy, Liu Xianzhou looked at the person sitting before him, his face ashen.

"Now you are nothing but a worthless substitute, a yellow scarf warrior crafted by Mao Mountain. You've already lost this game."

Liu Xianzhou's face shifted like a revolving lantern, and he snarled, "Zhou Yuan, what exactly do you want from Tianque?!"

The man named Zhou Yuan appeared to be around forty, with sword-shaped eyebrows and star-like eyes, dressed in a snow-white robe. Upon hearing this, he chuckled lightly, "Our goal is simple—to avenge the Ink Wanderers who once fought alongside our martial sect."

"Such lofty excuses are better left to fool three-year-olds."

Liu Xianzhou sneered, "You want to bring these rebellious Ink Armors into Tianque, don't you? That's a clever plan. But let me warn you, the Three Teachings will never tolerate this. If Tianque dares to touch the Ink Wanderers again, you'll face a complete extermination!"

"But we've already intervened. Do you see anyone stepping forward?"

Zhou Yuan shook his head and smiled, "Not a single one. Do you know why? Because no one wants to provoke us for a branch of the Ink Order that served Zhang Fengyue like a dog."

"The age of martial sects has passed. The common enemy is no longer the martial sects but the Confucian sects. Though I suppose you and Mo Guhuang are too foolish to understand this, hence your internal power struggle at this moment."

Zhou Yuan sneered, "If you're a blacksmith, you should forge iron well, not meddle in things you're not good at. When you set aside the ones who feed you and start playing with the hearts of men through Confucian ways, you're destined to lose miserably."

Liu Xianzhou said coldly, "I haven't lost yet. This is the Academy, my domain."

"What else do you have to rely on? Shu Ye, who helps you research technology by day and lets you research by night? Or Peng Ze, the fence-sitter between you and Mo Guhuang? If you think you can turn the tide with those two, go ahead and try."

Zhou Yuan stood up and took a step past Liu Xianzhou.

"Shu Ye specially bought this genetic detox from the Agricultural Sect for you. Every time you sleep with her, the poison in your body grows stronger. Mutual scheming, a den of snakes and rats—you people of the Academy branch are truly blind, none of you awake."

"Shu Ye."

Liu Xianzhou, standing as still as a sculpture, suddenly felt his contracting flesh and blood melt like wax, rushing to flee his body. A kaleidoscope of filthy liquids flowed across the ground, and in the blink of an eye, only an empty shell remained, collapsing with a thunderous crash.