Chapter 154 — Breaking the Will
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 4
Crosswise and lengthwise, a vast line of sky! The bodies of the two, one great and one small — the golden strongman half a body taller than he — suddenly crashed together.
Two saber-lights, one horizontal, one vertical: the horizontal was a mountain barring the road ahead, the vertical a saber cleaving that mountain. Blood-colored saber-light surged skyward, as though a giant swung his blade and hewed a road out of a sheer cliff wall stretching a thousand li.
That golden strongman's body split into four pieces, slain by this crosswise-and-lengthwise saber-light.
Shen Mu shook his sabers to jar the blood from the blades, put both Slaughter-Sabers back into the saber-pack with a backhand, then suddenly raised a finger: with a tinkling ding a flying sword left its sheath and pierced through the brow of a shaman who was bending a bow of primal qi to shoot him.
"Kill him! Avenge our masters and brothers! " More shamans came surging without cease. Shen Mu stepped crosswise, twisted his body, and kicked back; now saber, now sword, now fist, now foot, striking down on the spot each shaman who came to challenge him.
After a while, no sound remained all around. Before the mountain gate of Loulan's Golden Palace, upon the golden steps, more than forty corpses lay strewn this way and that.
Shen Mu looked below the platform.
Below were faces of dread and eyes of terror, and meeting his gaze they shifted of themselves, dodging and evading, not daring to look him in the face. The spirit and will of these shamans were strong, but after more than forty were killed in a row by Shen Mu, that spirit and will could not help but decline.
And once declined, they would decline again and again, breeding hearts of fright, breeding the cowardice that the foe could not be overcome, breeding awe and dread of Shen Mu!
All that Shen Mu had seen along this road bred in him a rage toward Loulan's Golden Palace. When General Tuolimu ordered his soldiers to gather the souls of the rebels, he had said they were to be presented to Loulan's Golden Palace; he had been puzzled then, and now he understood — Loulan's Golden Palace actually used souls to cultivate its arts.
He had not come this time to block their gate, but to take back the lower half of Zai Fu's body; yet since enemy and friend were now made plain, then he would destroy this sect's will and spirit, grind their confidence to powder, trample their arts and methods underfoot, and let them know that the divine powers they cultivated with the souls of others were worth not a single coin! "Which of you has cultivated the Shaman Venerable's Louluo Sutra of Loulan's Golden Palace? " Shen Mu swept his gaze around, his face cold, and then the corner of his lips slowly revealed a smile: "Come out.
I want to kill one. " Before the mountain gate, a stretch of silence. Behind the mountain gate, the faces of the great shamans of the Golden Palace, like figures cast in gold, gradually took on the color of iron.
After a moment, a youth walked out, and a middle-aged great shaman beside him said in a low voice: "Simuluo, his flaw lies at the shoulder blade, two parts from the left shoulder. That is the flaw in his art, the place he has not refined. " That young great shaman said in a low voice: "I had already seen it; only I had not made out the exact place.
Many thanks for the Shaman King's instruction.
" Libationer Bashan's face darkened, and he sneered: "Shaman King, for an elder, is this not a little shameless?
" "Martial Khagan, after you!
" That middle-aged great shaman's face was wooden; he raised a hand: "In those years I lost to you. In pain I took thought of pain, and these years my cultivation and strength have advanced by leaps and bounds; ever I have wished to wash away my former shame. Heaven has pitied me — you have delivered yourself to my door at last.