Smite the Gods

Wang Wu's throat was gripped by an invisible force, the veins on his forehead bulging, yet he kept his eyes locked on Jiang Yan, his roar squeezed through blood-flecked teeth: "...If you have the guts... just kill me!"

"Kill you?" Jiang Yan's tone was indifferent, tinged with a hint of impatience. "I don't have the time to play these boring games with you right now."

He raised his hand casually, making a gesture.

Immediately, two disciples dressed in the robes of Jixia Academy entered at the signal.

"Take this father and daughter away," Jiang Yan's voice brooked no argument. "Throw them onto Langya Terrace."

"This Corpse Immortal Embryo is a rare find; it would be a waste not to refine it into a pill."

"Understood!"

The two disciples executed the order with expressionless faces.

The two figures fell like broken kites, dragged by gravity toward the Heaven and Earth Furnace below.

At the critical moment, a gap suddenly tore open in the massive mountain of flesh that was locked in a desperate struggle with the Bronze Mecha. A giant palm, woven temporarily from countless fungal threads and raw meat, reached out from within and caught the falling Wang Wu and Nuonuo.

The giant palm closed gently, shielding them from the sky-scorching heat waves inside the furnace.

Chen Jin had gradually gained the upper hand in his battle against the Bronze Mecha; now, he had enough spare strength to protect those present.

What followed was a spectacle that would leave anyone who witnessed it unable to forget it for the rest of their lives:

Countless bulging protrusions pushed out from the folds of the mountain of flesh, as if living things hidden beneath the skin were desperate to break their bonds.

The next second, with a "shredding" sound, the thin membrane of flesh tore open, and thousands upon thousands of arms burrowed out in a dense, swarming mass.

It was as if a thousand pear trees had blossomed at once.

They were as thick as century-old tree trunks, their skin coated in a sticky, transparent mucus, with purplish-blue veins pulsing beneath the surface. Their knuckles were so large they could have gripped half a man.

Some arms still trailed shreds of flesh-membrane, hanging from their wrists like tattered gauze, yet this did not hinder their speed in the slightest. In the blink of an eye, they spread out to blot out the sky, their palms acting like giant umbrellas, hovering steadily above the survivors.

Before the people could recover from their panic, several palms had already descended.

The palms were warm, having just emerged from the body of the meat-mountain, and were as soft as sponges soaked in warm water, carefully gathering up those huddled on the ground.

The fingertips rested gently on their shoulders and backs, neither pressing down with force nor leaving any gaps, forming a perfectly semi-enclosed, arched space.

Some reached out instinctively to touch the palms, feeling the resilience hidden beneath the delicate texture. Even the light leaking through the gaps between the fingers became soft, isolating them from the roars and chaos of the outside world.

At this moment, the deformed, hideous mountain of flesh that Chen Jin had become seemed to transform into the legendary thousand-armed, merciful deity, using his own body as a barrier to carve out a temporary sanctuary for all the survivors in this desperate situation.

Deep within his body, the struggle of the Bronze Mecha, now fused with the baleful energy of the Lord of War, had reached its final stage.

The boundary between bronze and flesh grew increasingly blurred, and the mecha's violent thrashing became weaker and weaker.

The ancient baleful energy and the authority of war contained within it were being forcibly stripped away, devoured, and absorbed by Chen Jin.

This process was not subject to Chen Jin's own will.

Mutual invasion, devouring, fusion, and assimilation—in this realm, these were the self-evident, eternal truths.

Yanfu Walker, please note! The Godhead of the Lord of War has begun to integrate with you... Fusion progress 3%... 7%...

Please note! Upon complete fusion with the Godhead of the Lord of War, the Yanfu Walker will be permanently stranded in Human-Bingzi-Twelve Fruit and will be unable to leave!

This bizarre "fusion" was likely exactly what Jiang Yan had hoped to see: the complete unification of the "medicinal ingredients" and the "catalyst."

Sure enough, Jiang Yan, who had been watching coldly from the sidelines, saw the mountain of flesh in the furnace completely swallow the Bronze Mecha, and a sharp glint of "the time is ripe" flashed in his eyes.

The three sticks of cypress incense on the altar had just been ignited by his dharma power. Tiny orange-red sparks crawled up the stems, carrying the bitter, clean scent of cypress wood as three wisps of thin smoke rose into the air.

Jiang Yan stood before the altar with his hands hanging down, his plain Daoist robe accentuating his straight posture. His fingertips were pinched in the "Invocation of Dharma" passed down by his ancestors.

"Respectfully invoking the Daoist Ancestor Taigong, Progenitor of the Xuanyuan Sect!

In years past, the whip was bestowed at Kunlun, held to judge the Investiture of the Gods and settle the Three Realms;

Today, an evil god has fallen from the Dao, defying heavenly laws, disrupting the profound order, tormenting the common people, and destroying moral principles!

Disciple of the Jiang lineage, Jiang Yan, burns incense and bows three times, daring to lay bare his heart:

I pray to borrow the divine whip of my ancestor to condense the gale-qi of the Nine Heavens and gather the dharma power of the Qingwei!

When the whip rises, evil barriers shall shatter; when the whip falls, the wicked god shall be executed; when the whip hangs, the divine position shall be rectified!

I offer my essence and blood to the Dao, and my sincere heart to move the heavens:

May the divine whip descend swiftly to help this disciple cleanse the turbid filth of the Three Realms and protect the peace of all people!"

The smoke from the incense condensed without dissipating, swirling into a vortex in the empty space before him, from which a primitive golden light gradually emerged.

He raised both hands, and the phantom of a dharma whip—primitive in design and wreathed in an aura of destroying all laws—condensed from the smoke and slowly descended into his palm.

The whip was made of Nine-Section Black Iron linked by ancient bronze rings, emitting a deep, muffled clanging sound when shaken.

The black iron was dark green, covered in a warm, polished patina, with tiny silver stars embedded in its texture that only appeared when caught by the light.

Each section was engraved with gilded seal script on the front, arranged in order from "Imperial Edict" to "Subjugate Evil." Though the gilding was worn, it still radiated a warm glow, lighting up entirely upon contact with spiritual energy.

The handle was made of lightning-struck jujube wood, the dark brown grip as smooth as jade, with a lightning pattern filled with cinnabar winding around the wood.

The hilt was adorned with a black jade pendant, threaded with a strip of dark red ancient silk that still held the lingering warmth of incense.

The weapon lacked any sharp edge, appearing only heavy and dense. Holding it felt like gripping metal and stone, yet it did not weigh down the hand. As intent stirred, the whip's body trembled slightly, and the seal script upon it glowed faintly.

This was the God-Striking Whip.

So, having devoured the Lord of War, he could now be considered a local deity.

And thus, he fell within the special attack range of the God-Striking Whip.

Across the void, he lashed out with the whip!

The gilded seal script on the Nine-Section Black Iron erupted into a sky full of golden fire, invoking the might of heaven.

Ink-black clouds suddenly gathered in the clear sky, churning with blue-violet lightning. With a deafening crack, a thunderbolt like a silver serpent plummeted straight down.

Yellow sand and shattered stones soared into the air, instantly coalescing into a sand pillar dozens of feet high, swirling with debris in mid-air.

Howling winds whipped up the grit, bending the surrounding trees until they snapped. Blood-colored light seeped from the cracks in the bluestone floor, as the thunderstorm and sandstorm wove together into a chaotic curtain of heaven.

The earth-shattering roar was merely incidental; the true attack seemed to ignore space entirely, striking directly at Chen Jin's soul.

"Argh—!"

Chen Jin let out a shrill, agonizing scream, and the majestic posture guarded by a thousand hands instantly collapsed.

His massive body, a fusion of mecha and flesh, convulsed violently as if his spine had been ripped out. Amidst the boundless, tearing pain, his consciousness sank completely into darkness.

Before he lost consciousness, his final thought was:

"In this state, I suppose anyone would mistake me for a Divine Abomination. This lash was, logically speaking, quite fitting."