C12 From Heaven to Hell!

"Senior Brother?" In that moment, under the blood-red sunset, every disciple froze in shock.

It was a mouse, performing an action that baffled everyone.

He darted straight into the crowd and vanished from sight!

Indeed, in that moment, Zopyrus resembled a mouse, swiftly burrowing into the throng and disappearing.

"Where's Senior Brother? Senior Brother, hurry..."

"Boom!"

The female disciple whom Zopyrus had rescued would never get to finish her sentence.

The wild grass lay desolate, as a brilliant blade of light streaked across the horizon and plunged into the crowd with a thunderous crash.

"Boom!"

A golden radiance, more blinding than the sun itself, began to ascend slowly over the Waste Land.

Bursts of ferocious killing intent surged in all directions like a sea exploding, ripping through the void and leaving stark white trails in their wake.

The sky was choked with dust, apocalyptic, as a thick layer of earth was upturned, revealing the smoldering, charred Scourgelands beneath.

"Rumble!"

In the distance, an unstoppable flood of steel surged forward, as if demons had burst forth from hell, terrifyingly powerful, moving toward Thvelond with a deafening rumble.

"Young Lord, is it not too premature to attack Thvelond now?" asked the 50,000-strong Glowscale, its massive wings beating. Its body shone with a golden gleam, emitting Divine Light like tens of thousands of miniature suns.

Leading the hundred-thousand-strong beast tide, Licinius, the Young Lord of the Beast Tribe from the Fell Lands, stood with his arms crossed over his muscular frame, his long purple hair billowing. His pale purple eyes were icy and merciless, exuding an ineffable air of haughtiness.

"They're nothing but 100,000 filthy beasts. If they die, they die. Do you have any objections?" His demonic presence dominated as he turned his head, fixing the Glowscale beside him with a ruthless gaze.

"No, no objections!" The Glowscale, intimidated by Licinius' piercing stare, was sweating profusely, its golden fur soaked.

"No objections? Hmph!" Licinius snorted. "If you have none, then go and kill!"

"Kill them!"

With a roar that echoed through heaven and earth, the 100,000-strong beast tide, brimming with an overwhelming urge to kill, surged directly toward Thvelond.

In the wilderness, the ground was littered with hundreds of corpses and soaked in bloodied mud, all stamped over by the hooves of a 100,000-strong beast tide, splattering blood in every direction.

Among the fallen, one body bore only a few fresh wounds and no fatal gashes, yet the spark of life had left him.

Massive wolf monsters and the hulking forms of pig monsters trampled over the man, their passage marked by the clear sound of bones shattering. Still, the man did not open his eyes; his eyelids remained motionless. It was clear he was truly dead.

Time passed, and as the dust settled, the terrifying beast tide finally traversed the Savage Lands, vanishing into the distant mountains.

It was then, amidst the desolation, that the corpse which had been crushed beneath demonic feet eerily rose to its feet.

The man, nicknamed Mouse, moved as if he had been asleep for a million years, his actions stiff and mechanical.

"Drip!" "Drip!"

Drops of vivid blood trickled down his face, chin, and hair tips.

Thick droplets of blood clung to his eyelashes, obscuring his vision with a haze of red. He looked out upon the world, which seemed to be bathed in an eerie scarlet hue.

"This is... hell," he murmured unconsciously, as he slowly stepped out of the bloodied mire, clutching the Azure Smoke Blade and the white cauldron.

With a heavy thud, Mouse turned and fell to his knees before the pool of bloodied mud.

Nothing remained before him. The cheerful laughter of his junior brothers and sisters, their warm gazes, and their innocent faces were all gone.

They were all dead, not a single body left intact; only a pool of blood mud, thick with the scent of iron, slowly flowing and writhing.

"Junior sister!" "Junior brother!"

Mouse murmured involuntarily as he reached out with trembling hands to touch the blood mud. Gently, yet firmly, he grasped a handful and brought it before his eyes, then let it fall open.

In a daze, Mouse saw something in the handful of blood mud.

He saw the youthful faces of his junior brothers, the lovely features of his junior sisters, the warmth of family he had longed for, for three entire years... the smiles.

"Ah!"

With a sudden, piercing shriek, Ratty burst into tears, his sobs loud and heart-wrenching, stirring sorrow in anyone who heard them.

Tears streamed from his barely open eyes as he cried, kneeling before the blood-soaked mud as if in confession.

Cradling the remains of his family, he wept, tears coursing down his cheeks without restraint, drenching his clothes and everything else.

"Hu!"

Without warning, a chilling breeze began to blow; it caressed Ratty, who felt a bone-deep cold.

He couldn't tell if it was the wind or his icy tears, but he felt an intense aversion to the cold. His soul shivered, wrapped tightly in a profound despair that nearly suffocated his slight frame.

He cried out to the heavens, mouth agape, tears and snot mingling freely, like a child who had been robbed of a beloved toy, now in his mother's embrace, where he could cry without care.

He was engulfed in despair and sorrow.

"Ah!"

Beneath the blood-red sunset, amidst the stench of bloodied mud, the man held the pungent remains and wept unabashedly.

He refused to think or act, his sole desire to cry out all his tears of grief.

Time passed unmarked until the blood-red sunbeams pierced the entire world, and darkness gradually enveloped the sky.

The wilds were filled with the wailing of the cold wind, echoing like the howls of malevolent spirits.

On the horizon, a slender figure with a long Immortal Sword strapped to his back took one step after another toward the unknown.

In a daze, he turned and looked back.

The blood-red sun bathed his face, forcing him to squint slightly to adjust to the light.

As if in a dream, he thought he saw familiar figures in the crimson sunset; a smile curved his lips at the sight of those warm, smiling faces in the sunlight.

But when he focused, it all vanished, as fleeting as time slipping through his fingers.

Turning away, he no longer lingered, walking resolutely into the blood-red sunset.

The bloodlight cast upon his figure carried a tinge of unyielding melancholy.

Zopyrus traveled eastward, racing toward Thvelond Mount; the sights he encountered along the way shook his very soul.

A hundred thousand demons, arrayed in a fan shape, surged toward Thvelond Mount, leaving a trail of bones and death in their wake.

No matter the mountain village, the quaint town, or the grand cities, none could halt the march of the Fellbeasts. They fought with a frenzied savagery, leaving corpses and rivers of blood in their wake.

Flames roared skyward, intent on consuming the world in their fiery embrace.

The heavens themselves grew dim, and the air was thick with the wails of the dying. The land was a macabre tapestry of death, a veritable purgatory on earth.

Zopyrus's face was etched with darkness, his soul deeply disturbed. He employed the Earth Escape Technique to navigate the subterranean layers, hastening toward Thvelond Mount.

With the dawn of a new day, Zopyrus finally reached the base of Thvelond Mount.

The demons, a vast distance behind him, had ceased their advance. A dark tide of steel stood still, gazing across the expanse at Thvelond Mount.

Zopyrus understood that the legion of demons dared not truly assault Thvelond Mount; the moment the Voidweave Array sprang to life, a single burst of Divine Light would incinerate them all.

"Why have the hundred thousand demons committed such slaughter upon humankind?" Zopyrus pondered, sensing that this was a trap, yet one player in the scheme was missing.

He ascended toward the summit of Thvelond Mount, his steps as light as a feather.

Midway up the mountain, he underwent the customary inspection by the Voidweave Array, then, with a heavy heart, he swiftly passed two Senior Brothers of the Fourfold Mountain, his head bowed.

The layered pavilions of Thvelond Mount loomed in the distance. Abruptly, Zopyrus's expression stiffened, and his slight frame shuddered.

"Hahaha, little brother mouse, this is the second time. Let's see how your Chief Elder will protect you now!" It was Judas, flanked by dozens of Thvelond disciples, who had cornered Zopyrus at a crossroads.