Chapter 887 — The Longhan Cataclysm: Blood Stains the Heavens
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
"You spent too short a time in the Longhan Heavenly Court," said the old Nether Emissary, his face hidden in shadow so that none could make out his features, his voice carrying not a trace of emotion.
"You merely dwelt in the court for a while — you have no idea of the darkness of the Longhan era. In the age of the Ancient God Heavenly Emperor, countless post-heaven races were wiped out; even the demigod races lived in constant fear. What you saw at the Jasper Pool was only the brightest, most dazzling face of that age. Of its ugliness, you know nothing.
" Shen Mu was silent for a moment.
"How ugly?
" The old Nether Emissary abruptly stretched out a finger and pressed it to Shen Mu's forehead.
The scene before Shen Mu's eyes shifted, and he entered the old Nether Emissary's memories. He arrived in an age that seemed utterly barbaric, where people wore animal hides or grass skirts, ragged and tattered, and yet not far away stood an immense temple, blazing with gold and splendor, luxurious beyond compare.
Before the temple rose a lofty altar, where folk who could not cover their bodies or fill their bellies fed the fairest boys and girls with their best food, then offered the children upon the altar, praying for favorable winds and rains. Light flashed atop the altar, and the phantom images of the Heavenly Emperor and the divine kings of the Heavenly Court appeared, taking the boys and girls away to consume.
He saw another scene as well: a race that had offered no blood sacrifice to the Heavenly Emperor and the divine kings of the Heavenly Court had its people seized by towering deities, dragged to the altar, and beheaded as offerings to appease the wrath of heaven.
Beneath the altar, countless corpses and white bones were piled into mountains. The old Nether Emissary then showed Shen Mu yet another memory, in which slaves of every race were quarrying the mines of the Yuan Realm.
Adepts of the divine arts, chains pierced through their bodies, pus oozing from their wounds, walked barefoot into bottomless mine shafts and cut ore in the glow cast by divine metal.
And the ones guarding these slave adepts were the divine men of the Xiaohan Heavenly Court. The keen edge of the divine metal made their skin fester without stop, and their souls felt as though they were being sliced by knives in every instant — a torture hardly different from death by a thousand cuts! The old Nether Emissary's memory shifted once more, carrying Shen Mu into yet another recollection.
It was war among the races of the heavens.
Before the fighting, the chieftains ordered sacrifices — slaughtering civilian slaves as offerings to the gods of the Heavenly Court, praying for the gods to come and reinforce them. Countless bodies fell before the battle lines, and the light of blood shot straight up into the clouds.
When war broke out, the gods and demons of the Heavenly Court descended to the mortal world to feast upon the sacrifices.
These ancient gods threw themselves into the slaughter on the field between the two armies — yet they did not strike at the fellow ancient gods who had also descended from heaven, but at the enemy armies. Whoever destroyed the opposing army first would be victorious.
To these ancient gods of the Heavenly Court, war in the lower realm was merely a game, of no consequence, a chance to enjoy their blood offerings.
But to the mortal races, every battle was a struggle for survival itself. And every time, they had no choice but to sacrifice to the Heavenly Court, because if they did not sacrifice, their fate was annihilation!
Shen Mu's body trembled as he broke free from the old Nether Emissary's memories, gasping for air in great gulps like a drowning man who had just crawled ashore.
In such a horrifying age, the founding patriarch Wei Suifeng had indeed had no choice but to do as the Romans did!
The old Nether Emissary said, "What I have seen is but the tip of the iceberg.
There is far more that I have not seen.