"I heard it again! I heard it again! It was this voice!! Sob, it was this voice!!!"
"It's been hundreds of years, hundreds of years! They still haven't left!!!"
He wept in anguish, his eyes crimson as if they were bleeding!
Yan Chi had already guessed Xuan Xi's plan.
Deification. So this was what he meant by deification.
The Great Xia people had no faith, but they had an abundance of history.
Those histories had already planted seeds of faith in every child's childhood—in classrooms and in books—without them even realizing it...
Xuan Xi had first sounded the charge trumpet because once it rang, they would return.
As if confirming his guess,
the next moment, countless broadswords wrapped in red cloth appeared over the Black Sea.
At first, there were only a few scattered ones, but more and more appeared.
Countless red-scarved blades bloomed over the Black Sea like flowers from the other shore, and the people wielding them appeared...
Their forms were nothing more than phantoms.
"Kill!!!!!!"
"Kill, kill!!!!"
The instant they appeared, smoke and gunpowder billowed across the entire battlefield.
Yan Chi had never lived through that era, nor had she ever attended school. She had never imagined that a person and a single blade could possess the force to swallow mountains and rivers.
The figures gripping the red-scarved blades flickered between reality and illusion, impossible to see clearly.
Yet the moment they appeared, they surged toward the monsters.
Xuan Xi continued deifying them. With every name he spoke, with every passage of history he recited,
more and more figures appeared, each flickering between reality and illusion, impossible to see clearly.
They seemed to be many people, yet also seemed to be one person.
Situ Xun gripped the armrests excitedly as he gazed into the distance.
"I organized