Divine Tang Era

Chapter 172 The Snowstorm Brings Return

On the endless wilderness, the wind and snow raged, as if an ancient, unyielding god of ice was displaying its majesty, tearing everything between heaven and earth.

In the sky, leaden-gray clouds hung low, almost crushing this deathly white world.

In this extreme cold that can freeze metal and stone and drown life, the curtain of wind and snow was quietly torn open by an invisible force.

Several figures strode through the raging snow, landing steadily as solid as rocks on a mountaintop. The snow scattered with a roar, yet strangely avoided their boots, as if in fear of something.

Leading the group was an elderly man wearing an old robe with animal patterns; he was a priest of a grassland tribe.

He held a bone staff inlaid with a deep blue gemstone, which he plunged deep into the snow. The gemstone at the top of the staff emitted a faint yet resilient warm light, forming a thin halo that kept out the extreme cold and the razor-sharp wind and snow that could freeze a mortal instantly.

The gaunt body shrouded in the sacrificial robe seemed as if it could be blown away by the wind at any moment, but its eyes burned with a burning piety that was extremely incongruous with its withered body.

His eyes were fixed on the slightly warm animal bone compass in his palm, on which a phantom image of a bull's horn flickered and pointed in a certain direction down the mountain.

Behind him stood five elite grassland warriors, as fierce as giant wolves of the steppe.

They wore thick fur coats, covered by simple yet sturdy bone armor. Their faces were etched with the marks of wind and frost, and their breath froze into ice crystals. They landed silently, their eyes sharp as hawks, their muscles taut, their hands always resting on the curved swords or bone spears at their waists, vigilantly scanning their surroundings as if a terrifying enemy might pounce out at any moment in the snowstorm.

The old priest's chapped lips moved, uttering ancient and deep incantations.

The phantom image of the bull's horn on the animal bone compass suddenly brightened for a moment, pointing towards the distant wilderness.

"The ancestral spirits are guiding us—the lost sacred sacrifice lies just ahead." The old priest's voice was hoarse, yet filled with an undeniable certainty.

A warrior leader with a scar on his face stepped forward and gazed into the distance in the direction the man pointed. His gaze pierced through the wilderness and reached a massive outline faintly emerging from the snowstorm in the distance—a towering black city wall, like a primordial beast crouching between snow-capped mountains.

Silence, yet exuding a chilling aura of authority and menace.

On the city wall, a faint banner, not belonging to the natural wind and snow, carrying a metallic chill, could be seen fluttering. It was a military flag embroidered with the powerful character "Tang".

The warrior leader's pupils contracted sharply, and his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword turned slightly white. He took a deep breath of the biting cold air and solemnly warned, "High Priest, we cannot go any further. That is—Jingning City, the garrison of the Divine Tang."

The words "Divine Tang" were like a cold incantation, causing all the strong warriors to subconsciously tense up, revealing deep apprehension and even fear.

They can fight off snow wolves and brave the bitter cold, but they would never dare to challenge the might of that vast empire.

Crossing that boundary will not bring back the sacrificial ox, but rather a catastrophe that the entire tribe cannot bear.

The old priest gazed at the desolate wilderness, then at the towering city walls that resembled a colossal beast, a look of extreme resentment and pain flashing in his eyes.

The light from the bone staff in the old priest's hand flickered slightly, its warm glow revealing his inner struggle. Finally, his withered hand fell limply to his side, and the light on the compass dimmed.

The wind and snow intensified, whipping ice pellets against their sacrificial robes and fur coats, as if mocking their cowardice or urging them to flee this forbidden land.

"—Our ancestral spirits bear witness that it is not that our clan is unwilling, but that we are unable to."

The old priest's voice was filled with endless weariness and bitterness, "Go back! God's grace, in the end—cannot overcome human boundaries."

The warriors lowered their heads in silence, like a wounded pack of wolves. The priest protecting them glanced one last time in the direction the sacrificial ox had lost its way, then resolutely turned and disappeared back into the swirling snow, retreating the way he had come.

At that moment, a sudden change occurred!

A thin, bright, and cold silver line suddenly appeared from the top of another snow-capped peak in the distance! It tore through the wind and snow, silent and fast, so fast that even light and shadow could not catch up with it. Wherever it passed, even the flying snowflakes were instantly vaporized, leaving behind a brief and ethereal vacuum trail.

This is not the sword energy of an ordinary martial artist, but a killing light containing some kind of rule of heaven and earth.

It doesn't even carry any murderous intent; it's just pure, extreme death.

"puff"

With a barely perceptible sound, the silver thread passed through the faint halo with unparalleled force and without hindrance, sweeping past the priest's aged body and the five elite warriors.

There were no screams, no struggles, and no one even had time to react.

The beast bone compass in the old priest's hand shattered into powder with a "crack," and the faint blue light instantly went out.

Before the warriors could even exert any force with their hands on their sword hilts, their bodies, like sand sculptures scattered by the wind or ice melting in the sun, along with their sacrificial robes, fur coats, bone armor, and weapons, disintegrated and annihilated, turning into the finest dust, leaving not a trace of blood, completely dissipating in the raging wind and snow, as if they had never existed.

On the mountaintop, only the snow that had been pushed aside by the halo of light crashed down, filling the brief gap and erasing the last trace.

On the summit of another snow-capped peak in the distance, a figure lay on the back of a giant snow wolf.

The snow wolf was as big as a small mountain, with pure white fur. It gently nuzzled its master's robes with its eyes, but it couldn't hide the ferocity in its bones that made people's hearts tremble.

The figure was dressed in the attire of Fengzhen Temple, with a chestnut gourd hanging from his waist. He had a handsome face, but with a hint of nonchalant laziness and drunkenness. His eyes looked down on the world as if the people beneath his feet were nothing more than ants and dust.

Kui Mu Xingjun didn't even glance in the direction of those people. He simply raised his hand casually, and the deadly silver thread obediently flew back, circled his fingertip, and disappeared into his sleeve.

Kui Mu Xingjun picked up the gourd at his waist, tilted his head back and tilted it, but only two or three drops of wine dripped out, causing him to frown.

I shook the gourd; it was empty.

"Ha, after waiting so long, all I got were a few tiny bugs that wouldn't even fill a tooth gap. All that cold wind for nothing, what bad luck!" Saying this, he hung the gourd back on his waist. "The wine's gone, how boring. Might as well go home, might as well go home."

The giant snow wolf seemed to know his intentions. It let out a low growl, stood up, and leaped into the air, transforming into a white lightning bolt. It carried its master and sped towards Jingning City, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

On the mountaintop, only howling wind and snow remained, quickly covering all traces as if nothing had ever happened.

As they approached Jingning City, Lord Kui Mu put away his snow wolf and walked through the city gate.

Although it was cold inside the city, it was infinitely warmer than the desolate wilderness outside. I hadn't walked far when I was drawn in by the rich aroma of meat wafting from a hot pot restaurant. I hadn't been back since my last meal here. It had been so long, I was really craving it.

Most importantly, I was tempted by the good wine in the shop, so I walked over without thinking.

"Splash!"

Lifting the thick animal skin curtain hanging in front of the door, a wave of heat, almost solidified, carrying with it the delicious smell of meat and the clamor of voices, rushed towards you.

Lowering the curtain completely shut out the chill outside, and people felt a bit warmer; it was as if the inside and outside were two different worlds.

The restaurant was filled with steam, and each table had a hot pot with bubbling broth. The diners ate with grease on their lips and their faces were flushed. Some were playing drinking games, while others were drinking heartily. The atmosphere was lively and bustling.

Upon smelling the sweet aroma of wine, Kui Mu Xingjun couldn't help but swallow.

A glance around the store revealed that the tables and chairs were already full, leaving no room to even put one's feet down.

"Star Lord?"

Xu Dan walked over carrying a huge wooden tray, on which were stacks of thinly sliced, slightly bloody long-haired beef. When he saw Kui Mu Xingjun standing at the door, he was taken aback. He turned his head to look inside the store and saw that there were no seats left. He said, "There are no seats left in the store. If Xingjun doesn't mind, why don't you come and squeeze in with us?"

Following the direction he indicated, Lord Kui Mu looked and saw three people sitting around a slightly larger square table further inside.

The table had four long benches. Xue Diao and Xue Bao'er sat together, Xue An sat alone, and when Xu Dan went over, there was just one empty seat left.

Kui Mu Xingjun didn't want to share a table with others, but the aroma of wine and hot pot in the restaurant was too tempting, so he had no choice but to nod and accept Xu Dan's suggestion.