Invasion Myth: Starting with the Schoolteacher

Chapter 830 What Should You Do?
Even if ten Li Xiaoli were alive, they probably couldn't withstand this kind of torment.

Even with the Confucianists pushing for this at an extreme pace, at least many places had already evacuated ahead of schedule.

Thinking of the small boats that were hastily built overnight and the granaries that had been moved in advance, Old Li shook his head with a wry smile.

If it weren't for Headmaster Shen vouching for them, perhaps even this little progress wouldn't have been possible. But compared to a raging flood, these efforts are like a drop in the ocean.

Sigh... It looks like the torrential rain will never end.

He removed his official hat, letting the cold rain lash his face. His shoulders slumped, as if bearing an invisible burden.

"Gods and Buddhas, have you seen this?"

He gazed at the sky filled with lightning and thunder, muttering to himself. Rain mingled with tears streamed down his cheeks, forming a stream at his chin.

"This world is too bitter."

These words were so soft they were almost inaudible, yet so heavy they were heartbreaking.

Behind him, another dam collapsed with a deafening roar, and the floodwaters surged towards the downstream villages like a ferocious beast. Meanwhile, the dark clouds on the horizon remained so thick that they seemed to stretch endlessly.

What's truly disheartening is that these disasters are just the beginning.

If the Yunmeng River is not allowed to disappear, the Hanjiang Plain will be completely wiped out. The number of casualties will then reach tens of millions.

I wonder if the head of Baoan Hall, who was organizing the flood relief efforts behind the scenes, still has any options.

Then came a wry smile.

Even gods and Buddhas can't help, so what can humans do?

In the middle of the Yunmeng battlefield, Xu Xuan and Yun Zhongjun clashed fiercely at the central gate between the water and the sky, neither giving an inch.

Two colossal beings clashed fiercely amidst the shattered heavens and earth, each collision unleashing a deafening shockwave.

Xu Xuan's sixteen-foot-tall golden body was covered with cracks, and Yun Zhongjun's gilded armor was also mostly broken, but neither of them showed any intention of backing down.

One is the fused and evolved Dongting Water Lord, the White Lotus Great Demon King, who upholds the destiny of humanity and the responsibilities of the Water Lord, and is extremely fierce and domineering.

With all four arms outstretched, each punch carried the power of the raging waves accumulated over eight hundred years in Dongting Lake.

Behind him, countless phantom images of human ancestors appeared, and the will of those heroes who controlled the floods flowed continuously through the Xuan Gui in his hand.

The image of Yu the Great splitting mountains with his axe and the sound of Li Bing building dams were recreated in this battle.

One is a cloud god who has advanced to the Dao realm. He carries the authority granted by the ancient demon god and the hopes of past myths. He is an invincible demon with the power of wind, thunder, rain, and lightning.

It was bound by ancient chains of law, each bolt of lightning containing the destructive power of the primordial era. Behind it emerged the phantoms of demon gods and saints, and the forgotten water gods were using it to vent their dissatisfaction and resentment towards the human world.

Broken armor, fallen scales, and splashing plasma.

The area where the two fought was either evaporated or ionized, creating a death zone.

They struck from the sky into the water, and then from the water back into the sky.

One second they were exchanging lightning strikes in the clouds, the next they were locked in hand-to-hand combat at the bottom of the lake. Xu Xuan's headbutt shattered three of Yun Zhongjun's ribs, and in the blink of an eye, he was whipped hundreds of feet away by a tail. Just as Yun Zhongjun was about to give chase, he was suddenly ensnared by a water dragon that appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his throat.

In the final stages of the battle, there were almost no tactics involved; it was all about brute force.

All sword techniques and spells were thrown to the back of their minds, and they returned to the most primal form of combat.

Xu Xuan even bit down on Yun Zhongjun's throat with his teeth, refusing to let go despite the lightning exploding in his mouth. Yun Zhongjun's sharp claws pierced deep into Xu Xuan's back, but Xu Xuan grabbed his wrist and snapped it.

You have a spiked club, I have a skullcap. I wield a spear barehanded, and receive two swords at my chest.

It was extremely tragic.

While fighting, Xu Xuan pondered how to eliminate the enemy as quickly as possible, even if it came at a cost.

He sensed the increasingly critical situation outside, with innocent people losing their lives in the floods every moment, and that a swift and decisive victory was imperative!

Water and fire are merciless; the longer this drags on, the worse it will be for the outside world.
At that moment, I heard a voice in my ear. Was it a member of the White Lotus sect?

Xu Xuan's consciousness was suddenly drawn by countless faint calls. Those voices were like candles flickering in the wind, yet they stubbornly pierced through the torrential rain and the fighting, reaching the deepest part of his heart.

This is the prayer of believers, the last hope in despair.

In despair, people pray for divine intervention, worshipping gods, Buddhas, mountain deities, and the earth god; naturally, some also worship white lotuses.

The White Lotus Mother once stirred up a wave that swept across the land. Although it was suppressed for thirty years, some remote mountain areas still remain.

Xu Xuan "saw"—an old woman trembling in a dilapidated temple kowtowing to a faded statue of a god, villagers huddled together in a cellar passing around yellowed scriptures, and even prisoners in shackles silently reciting prayers in a jail cell. These believers, forgotten by the world, were all pleading with him for help.

At that moment, those wishes floated into the heart of the Father, who was three years old, along with the prayers.

Transcending time and space, they converge into a river. Unlike the heavy offerings of incense, they are as light as feathers, yet contain the purest hopes. Xu Xuan felt a warmth in his chest; the white lotus Dharma image was blooming anew in this desperate situation.

With a shift of his spiritual vision, he could already see the outside world.

Through the eyes of believers, they witnessed a living hell.

The rain poured down, and the world was in chaos.

Dark clouds hung low, as if they would crush the mountain ridges. Thunder roared, and rain poured down, blinding everyone. The river had already swelled, and its turbid waves, carrying broken logs, rubble, and dead animals, crashed against the rickety earthen dam.

"The dam has burst—!!!"

A heart-wrenching roar exploded, instantly swallowed by the roar of the torrent. The villagers, like startled ants, carried their bundles and dragged the old and young, running barefoot up the hillside. The mud was ankle-deep; every step felt like a tug-of-war with death. Old Wang, having put away the white lotus shrine, stumbled into a mud pit, nearly falling. His youngest daughter, Ah Heng, only six years old, clutched his clothes tightly with her left hand and the tablet of the Holy Mother in her right.

Her face was deathly pale, and her lips were bitten until they bled, but she dared not cry out.

"Dad...I...I can't run anymore..."

"boom--!!!"

The dam collapsed completely.

The floodwaters, like the gaping maw of a giant beast, instantly swallowed up several thatched huts at the edge of the village. Waves surged high, and pots, pans, doors, and even a struggling ox tumbled in the murky mud.

The old man watched helplessly as that apricot-red dress flashed in the waves and was then swept into the whirlpool.

In the murky waves, the girl's small hand struggled one last time and grabbed a piece of driftwood. But the next second, a roof beam swept down from upstream and crashed down on her head.

"boom!"

The driftwood shattered, and the red shirt vanished.

Only a small embroidered shoe remained on the river surface, gradually sinking as it spun in the eddies.

A white lotus memorial tablet was shattered by a giant wave during the flood.

The wood chips scattered, eventually turning into a glimmer of light that merged into the power of countless believers' vows, drifting towards Xu Xuan, who was engaged in a bloody battle.

That glimmer of light contained the little girl's final plea: "Save Daddy, I don't want to die!"

Countless similar scenes appeared, and a great deal of sound disappeared as the images vanished.

Xu Xuan's consciousness was struck as if by lightning, and countless hardships surged into his heart at the same time.
The newlywed woman of the Li family huddled in the treetop, clutching her baby, while the tree roots were slowly eroded by the floodwaters, making cracking sounds. Her last cry was, "Save my child!"

Chen Shusheng was pinned down by a collapsed beam from the ancestral hall, water reaching up to his chin...

This scholar, who had never believed in ghosts or gods in his life, was now making a wish to all the gods in the void, including even the White Lotus Holy Mother, who belonged to the demons.

In the instant the floodwaters filled his mouth and nose, his thoughts weren't on fame or fortune, but on his elderly mother back home, with no one to care for her. "If there is a god, please save my mother."

It turns out there are so many people on this land who long to return to their beautiful hometown.
Some of them had ulterior motives, while others didn't even know what the White Lotus Sect did; it was just a simple, even foolish, expectation.

These simple wishes have now transformed into the purest power of aspiration.

Foolish? Perhaps.

But in the face of utter catastrophe, who can criticize this expectation?

Xu Xuan suddenly understood this instinct born of despair.

The hopes of millions converged into a torrent, purer than any wishes he had ever received before. It wasn't a desire for immortality, nor for wealth and status; it was simply the most basic and humble desire—to live.

The power of the White Lotus Descent Sutra, and the mysterious energy that helped him overcome his tribulations, all originated from this expectation.

Since he has borne this karma and survived countless tribulations with the help of the White Lotus Descent Sutra, he must repay it.

That soul that believed in human will to conquer nature, that scholar who vowed in Guobei County to reverse life and death, that monk who made a grand vow before the Buddha—all of these question:
Xu Xuan, what are you going to do?
So Gan Jiang and Mo Xie blocked the Thunder Water Spear, which creaked and cracked.

The sword groaned under the strain, yet it was still forced to retreat step by step. The demon king's savage grin was inches away, and the plasma on the lightning spear had already burned Xu Xuan's cheek.

Crimson chains shot out from his wrists, wrapping around Yun Zhongjun's limbs and neck. Each chain burned with crimson lotus karmic fire, causing his divine body to sizzle.

But Yun Zhongjun suddenly exerted his strength, and spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the chains, which were about to break.

The simple bronze tripod grows taller in the wind, eventually becoming the size of a mountain, with a relief of Yu the Great taming the floods appearing on its surface.

The flames of humanity burned fiercely within the cauldron, pressing down on Yun Zhongjun's neck with a cracking sound. This was a contest between civilization and barbarism, a duel between order and chaos.

They had to use every means at their disposal to temporarily subdue this increasingly invincible demon of Yunmeng.

Blood trickled from Xu Xuan's lips, and his golden body was riddled with cracks. He knew this suppression wouldn't last long; Yun Zhongjun was struggling frantically, each tremor causing his internal organs to burn. But that was enough; he just needed to buy a few moments.
"Have you run out of tricks?!"

"Xu Xuan!"

Yun Zhongjun laughed heartily. In his view, Xu Xuan had lost his mind and was using such a method that would inevitably backfire.

He could break free in a moment and then severely injure this human.

But He didn't know that while He was still thinking about severely injuring His opponent, His opponent was already thinking about delivering the final blow.

Xu Xuan's brow was glowing, a white light, and a phantom-like shadow seemed to be emerging from his microcosm.

Figures that look similar yet are distinctly different are coalescing.

He was dressed in a plain white robe, with a white lotus mark between his brows, and exuded an aura of transcendence from the mortal world.

Xiao Qing let out an uneasy dragon roar.

As a comrade-in-arms whose soul was connected to Xu Xuan's, she instantly understood this crazy plan—he wanted to completely expose the secret that could never be shown to anyone!
But, scanning the surroundings.

With his eyes wide open, every detail on the battlefield was clearly visible.

The Buddha light above Qingyou Monk's head flickered, and the battle between his sister and the shadow had reached a critical moment. Yu Yingnan and the others were struggling to hold on. Even more terrifying was that several ancient auras, faintly visible deep within Yunmeng, were greedily watching all of this.

Every single one is a variable, and every glance could bring utter destruction.

(End of this chapter)