Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 269 - Blocking is also a form of blocking
Hera is a very special person; she has a unique path that she must follow.

She yearns to collect and protect knowledge. Consequently, she also protects the carriers of that knowledge, especially unique civilizations and the phenomena they have created.

Therefore, when the demon god was about to descend, she was able to wager everything she had without hesitation. Because she simply could not tolerate an external force like the demon god bringing destruction to the civilization she knew.

This could perhaps be called a great love.

However, the source of this love is not a specific ethnic group, power, or person.

Ultimately, what she loves is knowledge, and the vehicle for it is merely a matter of affection extending to everything associated with that civilization. She can give everything for a familiar civilization and pay a great price for an unfamiliar one. But in her eyes, each individual unit within a civilization is probably no different from an ordinary cog in a machine.

This is how Hera appears in Wu Chen's eyes—this is how she is perceived to him. She is willing to risk her life for the sake of civilization as a whole, but she does not care for or attend to the individuals within that whole.

No matter how many people kill each other, there will always be some left.

She would only step forward if a god or monster killed someone, because after that, no one would be left behind.

Therefore, Wu Chen knew that Hera would cooperate with him because she was on the same path as him. The ghouls and other monsters under the dark rain did not possess any characteristics of civilization, so as long as she had the energy left after finishing her current task, she would devote all her time and resources to this remaining plan.

She was indeed a great help.

In the very short time that followed, she and Wu Chen swiftly traversed the 300-kilometer-long formidable city wall. She precisely measured countless magical nodes, then easily and rapidly drew numerous ritual arrays of varying sizes as guides. This allowed Wu Chen to focus all his energy on guiding the overall momentum.

The overwhelming power of will, the overwhelming power of magic.

The victorious warriors of the North, in a celebration of their triumph, offered him a great deal of fulcrum of faith—which enabled him to unleash the magic accumulated deep within the Wall, letting it flow freely until the silent, stagnant waters transformed into a surging river. The main current was under his control, while Hera guided most of the tributaries.

They succeeded.

As the temporary cycle of magic was established and the long accumulation began to be consumed in large quantities, a newer and stronger undead army had already reached the wasteland less than a hundred kilometers north of the Wall. And when a little overflowing magic splashed on the outside of the wall, manifesting a glow that amazed the Night's Watch, but that was all, in the eyes of the commander of that undead army, the entire wall was burning fiercely.

It cannot cross this wall.

Its gaze spanned a vast distance, colliding in mid-air with the shamanic dust that propelled the ritual.

At that moment, they realized that neither could overcome the other. And until the magic within the high wall burned out, neither the undead army nor the torrential rain of night could reach an area within ten kilometers of this wall. However, they also knew that this burning wall would eventually run out of all its stored fuel.

That period of time will not be very long.

It might take a few days, a few weeks, or a few months. But it won't be longer than that.

And so it withdrew its gaze.

The mission of the night will eventually be fulfilled, and neither the night nor the night cares much about the still-living world, or whether it can live for a few more minutes or seconds.

Thus, the undead army halted a hundred kilometers away, beyond the sight of even the best sentries. The dead always have far more patience than the living, and the dark rain began to fall slowly once more.

..............................

"We must head south immediately to spread the glory of the old gods! This is God's will, our mission, and we must set off immediately without stopping!"

Jon Snow looked up, somewhat bewildered, at the King Beyond the Wall who stood on the high platform, delivering a loud speech. The wanted criminal, former Night's Watchman named Mance Rayder, was now flushed, spittle flying, and vigorously waving his one-handed hand. "South!" he shouted.

"The will of God!" the crowd below responded passionately. Among those whose faces were flushed and who were excited were quite a few strong men, dressed in black and draped in raven feathers.

The divide between the Night's Watch and the barbarians seemed to vanish suddenly. Right after that war in which the Old Gods displayed their power, everyone became like brothers and sisters.

Wait... that's strange, when did that man's hand break off?

He frowned—he thought for a moment.

He vaguely remembered meeting this king beyond the Great Wall at Caster's Fortress. Then, it seemed a strange stranger had cut off the unrecognized king's hand.

It seems so.

Perhaps that's the case.

New memories flooded his mind, revealing another truth—yes, he saw it, he witnessed it. Mance Rayder's hand had been severed by an exceptionally powerful White Walker while he was guarding the walls. And had it not been for the miracle of the Old Gods, the Wildling King's entire body would have frozen to pieces like the others struck by the White Walker.

He remembered that he was only a few feet away from the side at the time, and he even remembered the warm blood that splattered on his face when the arm was severed.

Blood flowers...

--is that so?

"Hey, idiot. What are you thinking about?" Someone slapped him hard on the back.

His thoughts were interrupted, and he turned back somewhat displeased. However, when Ygritte's vibrant red hair appeared before him, the little bit of confidence he had mustered crumbled in an instant.

"...I wasn't thinking about anything." After all, this wild girl had indeed saved him not long ago, more than once. And these memories were as clear and solid as Valyrian steel.

“I was just thinking,” he hesitated for a moment, then gave another answer. “Whether I should go back to Winterfell and report the… miracle here.”

He did indeed witness the miracle of the Old God. The enormous sword wound that pierced the ground would frighten any witness even standing atop the Great Wall—simply looking at it gave one the illusion of being cut, and if one looked at it for too long, a thin, long wound would even appear on one's chest.

It was indeed a miracle, without a doubt. But he always felt... as if there was something strange about it somewhere.

Just like...

He paused slightly.

He saw a man and a woman standing in the middle of the crowd watching Mance Red. And there was something strange and out of place about them.

However, no one noticed that he and she were different from each other.

It's as if you're the only one in the whole world who's awake.

(End of this chapter)