Chapter 428 — The God of War's Ambition Undiminished

Thud.

Star Lord Qiao sank back on his heels and propped himself up on his divine sword, watching his old rival come walking toward him, and laughed low. "Old Human Emperor, you and I are both puppets on strings, toys of the True Gods. Even if you bar our way here at the cost of your life, what then? Two parties descended from the High Heavens. We were only meant to draw you out; the ones truly sent to activate the celestial phenomenon artifact are someone else entirely. Jingping is doomed to be destroyed.

. . " Across from him, the vast primal spirit behind the village chief blazed fierce and boundless, like a god wreathed in burning radiance, but this god too was battered and crumbling now, barely holding together.

His primal spirit dimmed, ready to be snuffed out at any breath, then suddenly flared bright again, over and over, clearly burning the last of his blood and vital essence just to sustain his peak form. "Star Lord Qiao, where is the other party? " The village chief walked over, paying no heed to anyone else on the battlefield, his gaze pinned hard upon him.

"You and I are old rivals.

When a man is about to die, his words turn kind—do you truly wish to see the countless living beings of Jingping annihilated? " Suddenly, a cracking sound came from within Star Lord Qiao's body. The handsome god's face went ashen, and he laughed with a sneer: "Whether these lowly creatures live or die—what is that to me? " He raised his head to the sky and murmured, "My star has finally come to fall.

" Crack. A faint cracking came from his sword, then another soft crack, then more and more, faster and faster, and the cracking within his body grew denser too. The primal spirit behind the village chief dimmed once more.

He stirred his blood and vital force, trying to bring his primal spirit back to its peak, but he could not ignite it again. His body now was like a broken bellows leaking air on every side; he wanted to rekindle the flame of life, but he was too shattered to light it.

He was crippled, his limbs gone—it weighed heavily on his flesh and heavily on his strength in battle.

But the more crucial thing was that he had grown old. He had grown old to the point where his allotted span had reached its very end. He had once had a little more than a year left; had he quietly retired and trained in earnest, he might have repaired his divine bridge before death and entered another realm, becoming a god.

Yet this battle had drained the last of his body's blood and vital essence. Now he could no longer rekindle his life force.

"Tell me where the other party went. " The village chief raised his voice: "Star Lord Qiao, where do you come from?

Were you not once the same as these people—one of the base and lowly creatures you speak of? " Star Lord Qiao had closed his eyes to await death.

Suddenly his body shuddered, and he opened his eyes—hollow, utterly devoid of life. Sword wounds surfaced one after another across his body. The wounds deepened without cease, as though invisible blades were slicing and cutting open his godly flesh bit by bit. The village chief's final strike had severed his life force; his divine store was collapsing, his flesh was being torn apart—he was already fated to die here.

"What use is it?

" Star Lord Qiao lowered his head and sneered.

"Do you still have the strength to stop them?

You are going to die too, old friend. Be at peace—sit down and come along with me. On the road to the Yellow Springs, we shall keep each other company.

. . " The village chief said in a low voice, "Tell me which road they took.

" Star Lord Qiao lifted his head and glanced at him, his dull eyes drifting slowly toward the wasteland in the darkness, his breathing suddenly quickening: "They should be arriving soon. .

. cough cough cough—if you still have the strength, then go and stop them.

" His expression changed drastically.

He seized the village chief's clothes, his voice raw and desperate: "I see karma fire—the karma fire that countless beings of Jingping became after death! They are demanding my life! Stop them! Do not let the deaths of these common folk become my sin.

.

. Do not come near me, do not come near! It was not my doing, I was only following orders. .

. Every wrong has its source, every debt its creditor—it was not I who wanted you dead! " The village chief tore free of his grip and shot off through the air. Star Lord Qiao's eyes grew ever more hollow, as though he beheld something utterly horrifying. He screamed madly: "It is not my doing! I had no choice either—do not come demanding my life! " "I see countless paper boats, so many paper boats, sailing from Jingping into the darkness.

.

. Heavens, what is that? Tubo's horn.

. . Hell!

This place is hell! " "Save me, get me out! True God—where is the True God above me?

Come save me!

You promised me you would not let Tubo take me and judge me.

.

. Save me—" . .

. After a moment, Star Lord Qiao's face locked in boundless terror, his breathing stopped. Snap. The divine sword in his hand abruptly crumbled to dust and scattered across the ground.

Star Lord Qiao's lifeless body pitched forward; the sword wounds burst open and tore his corpse apart. The village chief plunged into the darkness of the wasteland, racing at full speed.

His primal spirit flickered—bright, then dim. He struggled to stir the last blood of his heart to keep his flesh from dying and his will from being extinguished. He could feel the summons of death. His body could no longer hold his soul, and death drew closer and closer.

He felt as though something were pursuing him. In truth, in recent years he had often felt this—it must be the summons of the world of Youdu, the heaven-and-earth laws of Youdu binding him, seeking to seize his soul.

As his body slowly died, this binding grew ever stronger, and the summons from that other dark world grew stronger as well. The Covenant of Tubo—every person signed this contract from the very moment of birth. Once the body died, the soul belonged to Tubo, to sink into the silence of Youdu.

To keep the body from dying was the key to escaping the Covenant of Tubo. When a god cultivated his body to the divine realm, a divine bridge lay hidden within the final divine store; the primal spirit crossed that divine bridge and became a god. Then the body was divine, and the primal spirit was no longer bound by the Covenant of Tubo. The village chief had once possessed this possibility, but now Star Lord Qiao's dying blow had cut off his path.

Now he could only hope to find in time the other party of gods and demons from the High Heavens sent to bring calamity—yet even if he found them, he did not know whether he still had the strength to keep fighting. "I truly have grown old.

. . " The village chief felt his blood and vital force churning, unable to hold his primal spirit.

His primal spirit suddenly shook violently, about to leave his body—yet he still dared not stop.

Perhaps if he stopped, he would fall forever. He pressed madly onward. In the darkness, countless monsters stirred, following him along the foot of the mountain, waiting for the moment of his death. When he fell, these monsters would swarm him and tear him to pieces.

He ran slower and slower, feeling his limbless body grow heavier and heavier. A sudden sorrow came over the village chief.

He smiled bitterly and wanted to stop: "I truly am about to die. .

. " Just then, he saw a great bird winging through the darkness. It flew ahead of him and alighted on a mountaintop. The great bird flapped its wings, folded them, and became a god with a bird's head and a man's body, unhurriedly preening its feathers with its beak.

"The time has come," the great bird said in a human voice. The village chief kept walking forward, slower and slower. "Wait a little longer! " He heard his own voice, as though from a hundred thousand li away—distant, blurred.

"Wait a little longer—I still have things unfinished!