Chapter 593 — The Old Scholar Whose Verse Presses Down the Star River

Suddenly, beams of demonic light, thick beyond measure and trailing black flame, shone out from behind the surging horde, like pillars of fire sweeping the ground flat before the army, plowing ever forward, melting peaks, evaporating rivers, setting forests alight!

Shen Mu's gaze passed over the monsters to the source of that light, and there, behind the army, he saw dark demon-gods like burning volcanoes, tall and massively built, walking very slowly — yet their strides were so vast that one step carried them over ground the Youdu monsters needed long to run.

"Demon-gods born in Youdu from gathered evil thoughts and demonic nature — the ancestors of the demon clans!"

Shen Mu's mind was in turmoil. Suddenly he saw, ahead of the monster horde, many adepts of Taihuang Heaven and Jingping fleeing at full speed; clearly they had been out on some trial, had never noticed the coming of the Youdu horde, and by the time they did it was too late.

Whum —

A black pillar of light, rolling with flame, plowed past; more than a dozen adepts vaporized on the spot, not a bone left of them. The others dodged in panic, barely, narrowly escaping the demon-gods' gaze, only to be swallowed by the tide of monsters surging over them.

These adepts of Jingping and Taihuang Heaven did not even raise a ripple before they vanished utterly.

"Forty li!"

The Blind Elder, in utter alarm, cried aloud, "Deaf Elder, are you ready? Thirty li! Prepare for battle!"

Scarcely had he spoken when the Deaf Elder suddenly stopped his brush and gave one heavy dot, bringing the painting to life; flame howled across and ran through the hundred-acre picture.

The Deaf Elder used his brush as a spear and gave a mighty flick. The hundred-acre painting rose to its feet at once, and then this unimaginably vast picture slowly gave off an inexplicable aura.

The painting merged with heaven and earth and vanished from before them.

Boom. Boom.

Thunder came from the sky; flashes of lightning startled everyone awake. They looked up, and saw that the heavens had suddenly filled with dark clouds, and fire flowed within the black clouds, denser than could be imagined.

The fire-flowing clouds spread wider and wider, covering ever greater distance, and suddenly a hurricane rose; tornadoes thick beyond measure, trailing roaring flame, came down from the sky — one, two, three...

In an instant, countless fire-tornadoes, like the dragons of Heaven with their tails hanging down, tore the earth open, set it alight, and spun madly, surging forward!

Whoosh —

It rained from the sky; but what fell was not rain but a fire-rain of lava. Huge slabs of molten rock trailing flame dropped slantwise from on high like raindrops, pounding down upon the racing Youdu horde, sending countless monsters tumbling head over heels!

Countless tornadoes howled into the army; everywhere bodies were twisted out of all shape, whirled up into the sky, torn to shreds by the mad wind, or slain by the thunder falling from heaven.

Suddenly, from the cloud layers, god after god and demon after demon, each leading thousands upon thousands of troops, leaped out and came down from the sky, charging at a slant, their battle cries a boiling din that split the ear.

That was an army of gods and demons numbering in the millions, crashing with a roar into the horde surging this way; countless severed limbs flew through the air; the scene was bloody and magnificent.

Shen Mu, the Blind Elder, and the rest stared blankly at the sight. No need for them to charge into the fray, no need for them to risk their lives — the vanguard of the demon horde had been stopped.

Stopped by one man!

The Deaf Elder wielded his brush and painted on; god after god and demon after demon, soldier after soldier leaped out from beneath his brush and rushed to the battlefield, fearing death not at all. In the air above, wind and rain, thunder and lightning raged and swept across the sky, yet never once touched the army of gods and demons, striking only upon the heads of the demon host.

For these gods and demons were people in a painting, and the wind and rain, the thunder and lightning of the painting had nothing to do with them.

"Can it be that this Youdu horde has charged into the painted world of Grandpa Deaf?"

A thought stirred faintly in Shen Mu's heart, a possibility. But this painting of the Deaf Elder must have a boundary — so where, after all, was the boundary of the painted world?

He looked all around, and could see no boundary to the painting at all.

The Deaf Elder's way of painting made one gaze up at it as at a mountain — so profound that Shen Mu would need to study it with all his heart all over again!

"The Imperial Preceptor of Jingping said Grandpa Deaf alone could hold off a million troops, and he spoke nothing but the truth!"

Shen Mu thought, "And that was only the judgment the Imperial Preceptor of Jingping gave after Tiantu fell and its capital turned into eighteen layers of hell."