Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 280: Special Products of the Unenlightened Middle Ages

Wu Chen dealt with the bandits—as he left the road, two rows of terrified, fleeing stone statues appeared on either side. Their craftsmanship was so exquisite that it could only be described as 'exquisite,' with every detail, from the hair to the wrinkles of the skin, rendered with remarkable realism.

The petrification curse is a fairly common spell in the Celestial Kingdom's spellcasting system. The difficulty of breaking the curse is actually not high, but if no one breaks it, the petrification effect will not be eliminated even after a hundred years.

"Let's see how lucky you are." When Wu Chen was casting his magic, he told these bandits a truth. "The tide of magic is coming soon. In ten years at most, this land will not lack wizards and sorcerers with the ability to break curses. And if your bodies are not broken by brute force by passers-by by then, then you will be able to wake up as if you have had a long dream and regain your freedom."

He said he knew that individuals with souls, even in a petrified state, could still think in a rudimentary way, but were completely unable to control their physical movements. And in his personal moral judgment, sentencing medieval bandits to ten or twenty years in prison was not considered excessive torture.

Perhaps so—at least that's what he thought.

However, he quickly dismissed this morally motivated thought. After all, if he were to rummage through the Stark family's mortuary, opening coffins and performing rituals, he would be in serious trouble according to the laws of any world.

Forget it.

People are always prone to double standards.

He thought for a moment and decided to stop considering those meaningless rules, morals, laws, and order. After all, his goal in heading south to King's Landing was plunder and slaughter.

“It’s turned into something bad,” he thought, tilting his head. He casually tossed the petrification curse onto the last person’s head. The wind he had newly mastered flowed freely around him and beneath his feet, emitting soft chirping sounds, propelling and calling out, allowing this new master of the elements to live more freely than before.

The wind is always free.

That which does not flow freely cannot be classified as wind.

After clearing his mind, his steps became much lighter. His face, which had previously appeared somewhat gloomy and heavy due to too many thoughts, now showed many smiles.

A dark warhorse, a black-clad knight, a smile beneath a cloak—those who encountered him on the road might not find this man heading south particularly approachable—he continued on his way, encountering two more caravans. The riders in these caravans, upon seeing him, instinctively quickened their pace.

So he walked even faster.

His warhorse swept southward like a storm.

However, his speed of movement was not much faster than that of other horse caravans heading south normally—after all, he always had something to do.

"I will thoroughly cleanse and eliminate all the bandits and bandit dens I encounter on the road," he thought, and made his decision. His decision was quickly put into action.

So he acted. The wind, which he sensed and controlled, aided him—he could detect the faint scent of blood in the air from kilometers away. He heard the cries, screams, pleas for help, and wails. Then he rode his jet-black spirit steed forward, unleashing his sword and curses upon the bandits and thugs who ruled the mountains.

No one could stop him, no one could withstand him. Even the strongest, most skilled bandits fell with a single, effortless sword strike before him—they tried archery, crossbows, and bows, but all their projectiles ultimately stopped at his cloak, which had been gradually upgraded with rock armor. And after that, these unfortunate souls who caught his eye experienced the greatest terror of their lives.

"Spare me!"—This was someone who had been knocked to the ground by his sword and couldn't even get up.

"I still have a family, and children!"—This was as he watched helplessly as arrows, blades, and even stones rained down on him. But it had no effect whatsoever.

"Monster... Wizard... Spare me!"—This was what he said in terror and despair after seeing his companion turn to stone under the anchor of the wizard's finger, causing him to soil himself in fear.

"Don't kill me! I... I'll do anything!"—This is... oh, this is someone who witnessed Wu Chen's inhuman actions, but whose true identity is a victim being robbed, or an unfortunate soul captured in a mountain stronghold.

Wu Chen pursed his lips, of course, these innocent people didn't do anything special. He didn't really want to pay attention to them, nor did he want to waste his time on them. But unfortunately, he always seemed to have some achievements when it came to his obsessive-compulsive disorder and germaphobia.

A prisoner locked in a cage finds it hard to resist the urge to smash the cage and shackles.

The unfortunate fellow, injured in battle, found it hard to resist casting a healing spell that was gradually becoming usable.

When a guy with a pierced chest, torn stomach, ruptured internal organs, and spilling intestines—who, according to the common understanding of this world, should be dead beyond any doubt, but whose brain and soul still retain a certain level of activity—is 'resurrected' by him with a healing hand, some things that were destined to happen begin to take shape.

They followed behind Wu Chen.

They were originally just merchants, mercenaries, and wandering knights from all corners of the country. But now, they had gained a shared identity known as 'believers'. Even though Wu Chen completely ignored them and didn't speak to them, they regarded Wu Chen as some kind of sacred being worthy of worship.

"Fearless warhorse, sacred sword, hand that saves the innocent and punishes evil... This is the incarnation of the Seven Gods, who have come to correct the errors of this world!"—An old priest, probably from the countryside, roared fervently after witnessing the miracle of Wu Chen.

Wu Chen glanced at him—which only fueled his elation. He was unaware that Wu Chen was merely confirming he wasn't the High Sparrow, the one with an uncertain origin who caused numerous bizarre incidents in the TV series' timeline, but was none other than the Archbishop of the Church of the Seven Gods. The old priest, having escaped a petrification spell, also let out a fervent and joyful smile.

“The divine incarnation is watching me! O Seven Gods! Please allow me to follow in your footsteps.”

Wu Chen did not answer him, for the flowing wind is always free.

Wu Chen's warhorse suddenly accelerated, heading towards another spot where he had detected a wisp of bloody aura.

(End of this chapter)