Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 245 - A Sword That Spits Fire
"Make your move, Duster."

The voice reached Wu Chen's ears.

The ritual had already begun, and the concealment effect was immediately dispelled. The humanoid phantom, torn from the White Walker's body by the four phantom wolves, struggled in mid-air, while the hundreds of wights that should have been under the White Walker's control turned into a chaotic swarm of headless flies due to the loss of their master, tearing and biting indiscriminately—yet still searching for the scent of the living.

They pounced on Wuchen and Hera.

Wu Chen raised the gun in his hand.

The gun was aimed the instant it was raised, and its point of impact was right above the White Walker's forehead!

"Bang! "

Flames burst from the muzzle of the gun.

The projectile, carrying immense kinetic energy, struck the White Walker's head with pinpoint accuracy.

Its soulless body was powerless to resist, forced to watch helplessly as its pale skull exploded from a direct hit by a .50 caliber bullet from the Desert Eagle!
“Well done.” Hera’s praise came from beside them, and the White Walker’s soul, which had been struggling just a moment ago, was torn into four unequal pieces. A silent wail then echoed in the gloomy forest, and the horde of wights surrounding the two paused for a moment.

They lost their leader, they lost their opportunity.

Several Night's Watch rangers among the ghouls were captured by Wu Chen in an instant, and his sword had already found their bodies. With horizontal slashes, vertical cuts, diagonal slashes, and upward thrusts, in just a moment, he successfully tore large patches of putrid blood from the bodies of the most threatening individuals!
They fall.

Individuals outside of them regained the power to act.

Wu Chen casually tossed aside his longsword, and another, sharper and finer two-handed sword was taken from the body of the last Night's Watch ranger he had killed—the ranger's black clothes were more exquisite and cleaner than Wu Chen's, clearly indicating that he was of higher status.

An age of blood, ice, and steel. The higher the rank, the better the weapons.

Wu Chen easily adapted to the center of gravity and specifications of this two-handed sword, and propelled it to move swiftly.

With one step, he returned to the front corner of the cube. The fragmented memories inherited from 'Tianyao - Proficiency in All Martial Arts' were silently imprinted on his muscles. He raised his hand, and the trajectory of the sword naturally appeared in his perception. With only slight adjustments to his movements, he could skillfully slash at the three attacking ghouls.

He took the second step, following his instincts. A perfect arc was instantly formed. Three ghoul heads flew up from the slash, and Wu Chen followed the momentum of the sword, moving from one corner to the adjacent second corner.

Hera stood in the center of the cube, uttering a series of sharp and melodious chants—each of which she slightly modified the pronunciation and frequency of the previous one, and a subtle resonance quietly connected Wu Chen's heart and the entire battlefield at that moment.

Three steps later, more ghouls pounced. He stepped forward and slammed the foremost ghoul into the ground with a shoulder charge. He spun around, his sword slicing through the tendons of two other ghouls from below.

The chant grew louder, the connection clearer. The entire battlefield appeared in Wu Chen's eyes. He continued forward, a series of slashes deftly slicing through several spines without getting stuck, leaving the third triangle of the cube behind. He then switched hands, raised his spear, and fired three shots, killing three ghouls who were drawing their bows.

The fourth point was right before him, and the feeling of wielding the sword was as smooth as flowing water. What appeared in Wu Chen's eyes was not only the trajectory of the sword that had not yet been swung, but even the sources of the impending major and minor crises were clearly reflected in his observation.

He could see the ghouls' next move, and he could see the next two moves after that. The entire battlefield before him instantly transformed into a chessboard laid bare before his eyes. But unlike a fair and orderly competition, at this moment, only the sword that could be wielded could make a move.

He swung his sword even more, returning to the very corner where he had started—within seconds he had circled the cube completely. And more than twenty ghouls had fallen to his blade.

A crater thus rose up—the crater of corpses, now serving as cover. He pursed his lips slightly; the calculated consumption was less than expected. And as he circled the cube a second and third time, perhaps nearly fifty ghouls would have already fallen beneath his sword.

He exhaled a warm breath, feeling his heart pounding rapidly inside him. After a period of gradual depletion, his stamina suddenly plummeted. A slight sense of fatigue washed over him, but he felt he was still in good shape.

The fight could continue, the battle could continue. He gripped the greatsword tightly once more, but before that—

'—La' Hera's chanting reached a note that was clearly a rest.

An invisible gust of wind suddenly dispersed. And the next moment, the entire battlefield was enveloped in silence.

All the ghouls were frozen in place, and after two seconds—

"Plop—plop—"

They all fell down.

There are still more than a hundred remaining ghouls, and the eerie blue light in their eye sockets has completely disappeared.

The battle is over.

Wu Chen let out a soft breath and planted his sword on the ground. His stamina recovered at a visible speed, accompanied by a renewed hunger pang in his stomach.

We need more food.

No, it doesn't necessarily have to be food.

A warm current quietly emerged from the cold air, encircling Wu Chen's body and successfully penetrating his shell.

“The transformation of ritual.” Hera’s voice rang out—he turned to look at her. The four wolf heads forming a cube beside her disintegrated into sand in Wu Chen’s eyes. And not only them, but all the ghouls destroyed by sword or magical rituals also disintegrated and melted at a visible speed.

“I have devised a set of usable rune spells, drained the magic that keeps them running—and once the magic is drained, it instead draws life force and transfers it to you and me in a certain proportion.”

Hera reached out and picked up four wolf fangs from the crumbling ashes that had fallen to the ground. The four wolf-shaped wraiths that had disappeared after tearing apart the souls of the Others shimmered lightly on these four fangs—she had found a thin rope from somewhere and quickly tied the fangs into a bracelet, which she tossed casually onto Wu Chen.

"this is……?"

“These are magical items that can be activated four times. They can be activated when you need them, transforming into a protective barrier or amplifying your senses and power,” Hera explained. Her earlier stance there was clearly not just for casting a ritual. Wu Chen carefully examined her but still couldn't sense any special power emanating from her.

"You've regained your spellcasting ability?"

"When have we ever lost our spellcasting abilities?" Hera waved her hand, explaining, "The lack of intrinsic magic doesn't affect the use of extrinsic magic. However, the way this world operates is indeed very different from Mondas. The rewriting of the spellcasting system will take time, and..."

She moved forward, stepping over the dust and sand. The headless remains of the White Walker still lay at her feet.

She leaned down slightly to examine and scrutinize the area carefully.

“It’s definitely different.” A smile played on her lips. “They’re both ‘Pale Walkers,’ but they only resemble the ones I saw in Windhelm in appearance—is it just information that crosses worlds, not the physical entity? No wonder there were several points I couldn’t understand in my previous research… It turns out this thing was created based on a curse.”

"Did you find anything?" Wu Chen approached her.

“A little.” Hera nodded, reaching out to touch the White Walker’s dead body—her doll-like fingertips immediately frosted over. But this didn’t stop her from moving her fingers, inscribing a series of runes on the White Walker’s skin.

She suddenly turned her head, her gaze falling on the two-handed sword that Wu Chen was holding.

“Dasster,” she said, “do you want to…”

"...You want a sword that can spew fire?"

(End of this chapter)