Chapter 151 — Craft Lacking Purity
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 4
Black vapor burst from the gourds and became tornado after tornado, growing ever larger, like flood dragons — head in the sky, tail on the earth — sweeping and raging across the land. The soldiers who had loosed the wind sprang up, trod the crests of the gales into the sky, and charged straight at the old general's army, whirling heaven knew how many wielders up into the air. As these barbarian soldiers were caught up into the air, the enemy troops struck at them from within the wind, slashing with their sabers and cutting the barbarian soldiers down one by one. The general on the white elephant said in a low voice: "Rain!
" Another troop charged forward, earthen jars on their backs. These barbarian soldiers set the jars down and opened the lids, and clouds of vapor flew out; treading on the vapor, the soldiers rose into the air, and then the rain came down in torrents.
Working their arts within the clouds, the soldiers turned line after line of rain into swords; the rain-swords stabbed down, and the barbarian officers and men below, too slow to dodge, had their crowns pierced through by the rain lines and were riddled like sieves! The young general shouted again: "Thunder!
" The barbarian women warriors on the backs of the giant birds beat their drums, and the drumbeats burst forth as peals of thunder that crashed down from above, shaking the souls of the barbarian soldiers who were working arts against wind and rain; their guard slackened without their knowing it, and many more were swept into the wind and rain and died on the spot. The three armies of Wind, Rain, and Thunder worked their arts, and of the barbarian soldiers few were left alive; but those who remained were all powerhouses, hard to wound with common spells. The old barbarian general knew he could neither win nor flee; he dropped to his knees with a thud and cried aloud: "General Tuolimu, this old man surrenders, surrenders!
I beg General Tuolimu to spare him a road to live! " Seeing this, the other twenty-odd barbarian powerhouses, though unwilling at heart, put life first and knelt, bowing low: "We are willing to surrender!
" A cold light flashed in General Tuolimu's eyes, and he said icily: "Your Tie'ermu clan has risen in rebellion and brought chaos — and you still hope to live? The Khagan has given his order: no surrender will be accepted!
" The old general's face changed greatly; he was about to rise in fury when General Tuolimu pointed a finger, and a pillar of sword-light as thick as a thumb stabbed across the void.
The two were a hundred zhang apart, yet the sword pillar arrived in an instant, giving the old general no time to rise and dodge, and pierced clean through his skull. With a ding, the sword pillar nailed itself into the wall of light formed by the Heavenly Precipice, punching a small hole through Libationer Bashan's divine power. Libationer Bashan's brows twitched; he dispersed the Heavenly Precipice, and saw General Tuolimu's host sweep in and slaughter the remaining barbarian rebels to the last man, not one left.
The barbarian officers and men cut off head after head and hung them at their waists, cheering without end. Some were still fighting over heads, arguing whether it was you who killed him or I.
Shen Mu frowned.
Even in the Desolate Ruins, there was no custom of fighting over heads. "Collect their souls and offer them to the Golden Palace! " General Tuolimu urged his white elephant forward and saluted Libationer Bashan from its back: "Can this be the Wu Khagan?
" Libationer Bashan nodded. A keen light flickered in General Tuolimu's eyes, and he said, eager for the fray: "The Wu Khagan held off eight hundred grassland divine-power wielders single-handed — his skill is truly uncommon, but not so great as the tales say.
It seems you will not be able to keep the name of Wu Khagan. " Libationer Bashan laughed softly, standing rock-steady on the ox.