Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 284 Handicraft Making
The castle's name is Harrenhal. It has five towering towers, each one larger than expected. However, each of them bears the marks of smoke and fire, and half of the towers are nearing collapse.

Wu Chen knew about this castle.

It was built centuries ago by an ambitious king who spent countless resources to make the castle the most magnificent building in Westeros.

He succeeded. He built a castle that was practically a city—vast, sturdy, and indestructible. In the age before magic, no army could conquer it head-on. Unless it was destroyed from within, this castle would forever protect the king who ruled it.

Earth has a similar place—a city called Constantinople, which also boasts impregnable walls. However, just as Constantinople awaited its cannon, Urban, in this mysterious and inconspicuous low-magic era, Harrenhal was also visited by blazing dragonfire.

The Targaryen dragons burned it, their intense dragonfire even melting the most magnificent main tower. King Harren's ambition and his body evaporated within the tower. And as the castle's lord was forged into the rock by the dragonfire, a dark curse descended upon every owner of the castle.

They will be plagued by misfortune, and they will struggle to produce offspring. For every noble who owns this castle, even dying peacefully in their bed becomes a luxury. Yet, even so, this cursed and magnificent building remains the most expansive, fortified, and indispensable castle situated on this strategic point.

No king was willing to relinquish it, so new nobles would always move into the scorching stone tower. According to the original timeline, the current owner of the castle, the matriarch of the He'an family, would also die an unexplained and mysterious death in subsequent events. Furthermore, the seven or eight short-lived rulers of the castle after her would also die mysteriously and in a very short period of time.

Wu Chen scrutinized it—its inherent dark power was clearly visible to him. He saw a raging, poisonous fire churning and surging deep within the castle, emitting a series of indistinct curses and wails.

well.

Another short new task has fallen into my hands.

Wu Chen reviewed the information in his mind before turning his gaze to his Saintess. His Joan of Arc knelt gently before him, offering this victory to him.

"My lord." Her face became even more beautiful than before, and her demeanor became even more heroic. If she was seven parts like Joan of Arc in Wu Chen's mind before this battle, then now she was nine parts like her.

"The villains have been beheaded, and none of your warriors have been injured. What should I do next? Please advise."

She has done enough, and done it well enough.

Wu Chen saw no need to continue pressuring her or putting pressure on her—although she and her family and friends had reported it, Wu Chen's disgust for the villain, Mo Shan, had not yet subsided. After all, he was the one who had single-handedly saved the entire village, and he had personally witnessed the pain and suffering endured by all the dead.

and so……

“You did a good job.” Wu Chen nodded, gesturing for her to stand up.

His gaze then shifted to the decapitated Demon Mountain.

“But death is never the end, it is not even the beginning. This is true for you, and it is true for him.”

The radiance of fifth-order magic descended.

Within the same dazzling pillar of light as before, the deceased giant returned to its whole form and regained its breath and heartbeat.

He stood up, his face contorted with malice. He might not yet understand what was happening to him, but that didn't stop him from opening his mouth to burst into wild laughter.

"Transform." The Mountain's laughter caught in its throat, the power of magic clashing within its body. At that moment, Wu Chen's thoughts sparked new inspiration, and his own transformation was applied to the reborn giant before him.

It's hard to imagine a person making such a horrific scream.

But such a sound must have echoed countless times before Gregor Clegane's ears—his body twisting and contorting in full view of everyone. His flesh transformed into steel and fused with his armor. Yet his entire nervous system was preserved, reshaped and enveloped in molten metal. In an instant, a bronze pillar as tall as a man was erected, and the Mountain's face appeared at the top, and all who approached would hear his agonizing screams.

He was still alive, his brain and nervous system encased within the bronze pillar. The simple runic structure inside the pillar served to absorb and supply energy—he could live without food or water from then on, but that was all. Unless the bronze pillar corroded and broke, or a bolt of lightning struck it.

The wicked, whom neither the gods nor the king punished, ultimately fell into the hands of the traveler. As for how long this punishment would last, that depends on…

“I am not familiar with the laws of this land, nor do I intend to learn from them. But from you, I sense four hundred and sixty-five resentful deaths.”

Wu Chen examined the bronze pillar and spoke calmly, his voice echoing in the ears of all the living creatures nearby.

"Therefore, I sentence you to 465 years. When that day comes, this bronze pillar will naturally collapse. Of course, if you can obtain their forgiveness, then the timeframe can be changed."

There was no response, but even more agonizing screams emanated from within the bronze pillar. The torment caused by the nervous system integrated into the pillar was equivalent to performing ten thousand unanesthetized dental nerve surgeries simultaneously.

One thing.

Wu Chen casually placed the bronze pillar on the ground by the roadside.

His followers and the Holy Maiden witnessed all of this, and they knelt down behind him in prayer. The tide of faith transformed into an invisible vortex. And they fully approved of Wu Chen's actions.

"The seven gods have issued their judgment! The sinner will be released after 465 years of repentance! Nothing could be more just, and this is the majesty of God, the power of God!"

The old priest preached loudly, recording everything Wu Chen had done on precious parchment. A timeless classic was gradually taking shape in his hands, and more willpower was silently gathering, passing through Wu Chen's body as before, and then transferring to Joan of Arc.

Therefore, he did not need to stop him.

Because he was merely a traveler, the lingering poison of God could not touch him.

as well as--

His gaze shifted again.

He saw that Harrenhal had been opened, and a noblewoman was emerging from the soldiers' guard, trotting over and kneeling at Wu Chen's feet.

“God!” she cried out devoutly. “Your arrival has brought unparalleled glory to the He’an family!”

(End of this chapter)