“I won! In the end, I’m the only one left alive!”
“Die! All of you, die!”
“My path of cultivation has just begun. How could it end here?”
An old man, his clothes tattered and his hair disheveled, waved his blood-stained hands madly, laughing hysterically.
At his feet lay a person, still barely breathing, clutching his pant leg tightly, refusing to let go.
“Old Huang, wake up! We’ve been affected by the Dao of Space-Time. Don’t make any more mistakes…”
“Get lost!”
“Still not giving up? Then let me send you off one more time!”
The crazed old man picked up a butcher’s knife, pressed it against the person’s head, and chopped down hard. Blood splattered onto his face, but the old man only laughed more joyfully. He lifted the head and looked at Meng Qingzhou, as if showing off, and said:
“Senior, look! I won!!”
Meng Qingzhou’s smile grew colder. He nodded and said, “Yes, you won. You fought for the only chance to live.”
Hearing this, the crazed old man threw the head aside and began to cheer and clap:
“Yes! Yes!”
“I won, I won!”
The old man turned and ran off into the distance, gradually disappearing into the twilight.
No one stopped him, no one spoke.
But everyone who witnessed this scene had eyes filled with pity and sorrow.
Won?
No, you lost completely!
You slaughtered your companions of thousands of years with your own hands. It’s better if you remain mad. If you ever wake up, you’ll spend the rest of your life in pain and regret, feeling the gap between your former and current self. That’s inhuman torture!
Those Morning Glow Great Beings who were killed were the ones truly freed. The ones who survived will face an even greater punishment.
“Mountain Moving Realm cultivation, a hundred years of life. In ten years, you’ll gradually wake up. For the remaining ninety years, every minute, every second, will be a death by a thousand cuts,” Meng Qingzhou muttered to himself, a cold smile on his lips.
The cultivators of the World Sect Alliance silently watched this Space-Time Sword Saint, feeling a chill down their spines, a sense of dread.
But the soldiers of Great Jin were immensely excited, their admiration for Sword Saint Meng Qin reaching divine levels.
…
…
The elders of the Elder Council of the World Sect Alliance knew they had suffered a crushing defeat and could no longer turn the tide.
Half of the Northern Territory was surrounded by the river of time, sealed off completely, with no escape.
Helpless, a group of elegantly dressed, clean and noble old men supported each other, trembling like chaff, as if they were about to meet the King of Yama in the Hall of Yama. Their lips pale and trembling, they said:
“Sword Saint, Your Majesty, the Alliance surrenders. According to the rules of national warfare in the Wilderness, those who surrender must be treated well. Please… oh no, we can’t say ‘please follow.’ Sword Saint, Your Majesty, you are so noble, you don’t need to follow any rules. We just beg you not to start a massacre.”
The elders, who held the highest power in the Alliance, no longer held their previous pride. Ignoring their clean and elegant robes, they knelt directly on the dirty, bloody ground.
They had witnessed the end of the Alliance’s last pillars, those twenty-some Morning Glow Great Beings, and finally felt the threat of death closing in, their pride shattered by cruel reality.
The noble old men, their elegant robes starkly contrasting with the bloody battlefield, looked like nobles on a picnic to those who didn’t know better.
Meng Qingzhou stood with his hands behind his back and said:
“Your plea for mercy is sincere.”
“But don’t think I don’t know. Hai Lantian, the Alliance Leader, previously sought peace, not wanting to be used as a tool, and came to negotiate with me.”
“But I didn’t agree at the time. Just a day later, Ji Wushuang arrived, and you old men immediately groveled before this guest from Sky State, hoping to climb aboard the Ji family’s ship, pushing hard to make this battle happen.”
“In other words, the countless soldiers who died, the Alliance Leader and the pillars of the Alliance, and many loyal ministers and generals of Great Jin, all died because of you few old fellows who are greedy for life and afraid of death, seeking profit.”
Meng Qingzhou coldly smiled:
“After the war is over, you old men who watched from the sidelines, drinking tea and watching the show, think you can just pat your butts, kneel and beg for mercy, and be exempt from responsibility?”
“One sentence about treating those who surrender well, and you think I’ll let you go?”
“How laughable!”
At this point, Meng Qingzhou was somewhat angry and shouted sternly:
“The ones who deserve to die the most are you!”
“Men! Take them away! Let them experience the most painful, humiliating, and torturous punishment! After death, chop their bodies to feed the dogs, crush their souls, and never let them reincarnate!”
A group of black-armored soldiers immediately responded excitedly, “Yes!”
Then they eagerly dragged the old men away to be imprisoned, to be tortured for a lifetime in Great Jin.
If we talk about the most terrifying punishment in Great Jin, it would be the perverts in the Heavenly Prison, who whip both body and soul repeatedly and never kill, torturing until death, and even helping these criminals extend their lives to live longer.
“No… please, Sword Saint, Your Majesty, have mercy! If not, just kill us!”
The elders were so scared that snot, tears, and saliva flowed together, and an unknown liquid streamed down their pants.
After finishing all this, Meng Qingzhou stood still for a long time before wearily waving his hand to disperse the Time Domain’s seal.
Within his Sword Sense, he could clearly perceive that the once grand army of three to four hundred thousand now had only a mere ten thousand left.
The snowfield was melted by the hot blood, forming a river of blood flowing into the sea. The setting sun reflected on the blood-red river and the crimson snowfield, making it seem as if heaven and earth were one.
The soldiers’ battle was not yet over. They had to carry their comrades’ bodies back home for burial, put shackles that restricted spiritual power on the surrendering enemies, and clean up the battlefield, collecting and recovering war equipment.
Despite the exhaustion seeping from their bodies to their souls, no one cheered for the victory.
Because war is cruel. Win or lose, fallen comrades and brothers-in-arms never come back.
A common soldier took out a reed pipe, held it to his mouth, and began to play a mournful tune.
The melodious and sorrowful music echoed, as if bidding farewell to the fallen heroes.
Meng Qingzhou slowly turned around, raised a bright and warm smile, lifted the Cicada Song sword in his hand, and shouted loudly:
“Great Jin, won!”
Only then did the soldiers wake up from their daze, looking around the battlefield in a trance, finally shouting excitedly:
“We won! We won!!”
“Great Jin forever, Sword Saint forever, Your Majesty forever!!!”
The soldiers cried and laughed as they shouted, their eyes all focused on the figure in black robes holding the sword high.
…….
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