Fabricating myths, starting with the creation of eight fictional ancient tribes

Each rope has a loop at the end, like a gallows waiting for its prey.

The ropes were stained with black blood and even had strands of long hair wrapped around them.

The wind blows.

"Crunch... crunch..."

"Don't look up!"

Ren Quanxu suddenly remembered the story the old hunter had told him, and was terrified.

He quickly shouted, reminding everyone to lower their heads and not to look at the ropes.

To avoid falling into that terrifying hallucination again.

Still shaken, everyone turned to look behind them.

In the distance, the desolate village shrouded in mist still stood silently in the darkness.

Desolate and lifeless.

It was as if everything that had just happened was just a nightmare.

Just then, Wan Xingwang's figure reappeared under the tree.

He didn't look at the crowd; he simply turned his back to them and gazed at the endless deep mountains.

He left behind his last words.

"Take care of yourself."

After he finished speaking, his figure gradually faded away and completely disappeared into the night.

It wasn't until it was confirmed that Wan Xingwang was really gone.

The teammates behind Ren Quanxu finally couldn't hold back any longer.

They collapsed to the ground, their faces ashen.

The experience they just went through not only exhausted their physical strength, but also nearly depleted their yang energy.

Everyone looked as if they had just recovered from a serious illness, their eyes vacant. Under the old locust tree, there was a deathly silence.

Apart from the sickening rustling of the wind through the treetops, all that could be heard was the heavy breathing of the survivors.

Ren Quanxu slumped on the muddy ground covered with fallen leaves, his eyes glazed over.

His hands were still trembling violently, and he couldn't hold the equipment at all.

"They...they survived..."

He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded on sandpaper.

Ren Quanxu raised his head and looked at his teammates beside him.

The original large group of more than a dozen people has now dwindled to less than half.

Those who fell behind slightly, those who were timid and scared out of their wits, and that arrogant "invincible in the West."

They were all forever lost in that mist.

They became offerings to that bronze coffin, or wandering ghosts in this desolate wilderness.

"Waaaaah..."

The young man finally couldn't hold back anymore and covered his face, bursting into tears.

"Xiao Li is gone... He was just holding my hand a moment ago, and in the blink of an eye he was swallowed by the fog..."

The crying carried far in the quiet night, sending chills down one's spine.

Ren Quanxu didn't comfort him, because he himself was on the verge of collapse.

The comments in the live stream chat were like boiling water.

"My God, people really died? Those guys didn't come out?"

"That's terrible. That 'Invincible West' really courted death, harming himself and others."

"But speaking of which, who exactly is this Ji Xuanyuan? Everything he said has come true!"

"The eight ancient clans... silently protecting humanity... just hearing about them gets my blood pumping!"

The focus of everyone's attention began to shift from the terrifying escape they had just experienced to the larger, more significant background.

The elixir of immortality.

A great struggle.

These words, which only exist in myths and legends, have now been forcefully brought into reality.

"Where do you think those eight families are hiding?"

Why hasn't anyone discovered it for thousands of years?

"It must be in a blessed land or a place like Peach Blossom Spring."

"We ordinary people probably won't ever come into contact with that level in our lifetime; it's the realm of gods."

Just as netizens were discussing it heatedly and making all sorts of speculations,

An even more oppressive atmosphere suddenly enveloped the entire world.

Ren Quanxu suddenly shivered.

He subconsciously raised his head and looked in the direction from which he had just escaped.

The already gloomy night sky above the deserted village was now even thicker and more intense.

Large swaths of dark clouds, like black lead blocks, pressed down low.

It almost touched the treetops.

"What is that...?"

Ren Quanxu's eyes widened, and his pupils contracted sharply.

A path could be faintly seen emerging from the rolling clouds.

An ancient road that seems to stretch out into the void.

Countless blurry figures are slowly walking from the end of that ancient road.

They wore tattered bronze armor and held rusted halberds or broken swords.

The ranks were arranged in neat rows, like a disciplined army.

However, they have no faces, they walk on clouds, and make no sound beneath their feet.

Only that chilling aura, carried by the cold wind, swept across the entire Qinling Mountains.

"Ghost soldiers...this is ghost soldiers borrowing a passage!"

Ren Quanxu's teeth were chattering. He tried desperately to look away, but found that he couldn't move at all.

The millions of viewers in the live stream were all speechless at that moment.

The barrage of comments suddenly broke down.

No one dared to speak, and no one dared to post comments.

It was as if the slightest sound would be detected by those terrifying beings in the sky.

At the forefront of this silent army.

A tall figure stood out.

It had no head, wore tattered general's armor, and held the giant ancient sword that had just nearly killed everyone.

It was that headless ghost general who escaped from the bronze coffin!

It rode a warhorse formed entirely of black mist, its long sword pointing eastward.

That's the direction of Japan.

"Boom!"

Although no footsteps could be heard, the thunderous roar of a thousand horses galloping seemed to echo in everyone's mind.

This army from hell marched across the Qinling Mountains and across the vast lands of the Great Xia Dynasty.

It swept eastward across the sea.

……

That night, the Great Xia Dynasty was destined to be sleepless.

Not only ordinary netizens, but even the big shots at the top of the pyramid were alarmed.

It was late at night, but the lights were still on in a quiet manor in Hangzhou.

Ma Yun, dressed in pajamas, sat at a huge mahogany desk.

A tablet computer was placed in front of him.

The screen is playing a recording of Ren Quanxu's live stream.

He played the final scene, in particular, the image of ghostly soldiers soaring into the sky and spanning the heavens, more than a dozen times.

"hiss……"

Ma Yun took a deep breath and put down her teacup.

The tea had gone cold, but he was completely unaware.

His fingers tapped lightly on the table, making a rhythmic "tap-tap" sound.

This is his habitual action when he is thinking.

"Old Ma, you're not asleep either?"

The tablet screen flashed, switching to video conferencing mode.

Several familiar faces appeared on the screen.

That's Jack Ma of the Tencent empire, and Zhang, who just led ByteDance to sweep the globe.

Their faces were grim, their eyes filled with deep shock and a barely perceptible fear.

"I can't sleep."

Ma Yun gave a wry smile and rubbed her throbbing temples.