Chapter 129: Signal from Huaiyuan Jun
“Welcome, Holy Son, Elders, please summon the Sacred Relic!” When Fang Ji shouted this, he used a large amount of spirit energy, his loud voice soaring like a bird riding the wind, effortlessly carrying over dozens of kilometers.
More than ten kilometers away, members of the Miracle Cult, who had already taken their positions, heard Fang Ji’s call and immediately rushed out from their hiding places in the wind-eroded earth mounds, swiftly heading toward the suddenly descended city gate.
Figures draped in moon-white robes, led by the Elders holding the Sacred Relic, formed a winding dragon as they traversed the yellow sand-filled Gobi Desert.
From time to time, members were swept away by hidden spatial fissures and tornadoes, their bodies crushed amid heart-wrenching screams, torn flesh and bl**d splattering onto the yellow sands.
As the thousands of moon-white-robed figures gradually approached the gates of Yumen Pass, the crossbows on the city wall and in the arrow towers, their spells long since solidified, seemed to sense something, one by one bursting forth with brilliant light, turning to face the shadows outside the city gate.
Immediately after, those crossbows that had long lost their strings erupted with a buzzing sound.
Amidst the buzz, arrows resembling crossbow bolts, wrapped in countless spells, shot from the city walls toward the approaching members of the Miracle Cult on the desert.
The sky was filled with a rain of crossbow bolts, thunderous booms echoing, fierce fires shooting into the sky, illuminating the Gobi Desert shrouded in night.
The members of the Miracle Cult hit by the bolts instantly vanished from sight.
Melted away, like ice cubes dropped into a furnace.
However, seemingly oblivious to the horrific fate of their fallen companions, the lucky members of the Miracle Cult who survived under the fragrant protection of the Miracle Flower pressed on without a moment’s hesitation.
The unfortunate members who perished were simply those whose Miracle Flowers emitted insufficient fragrance, nothing to be overly concerned about…
They were only focused on the massive city gate inscribed with the characters “Yumen,” their eyes glazed and devout, continuously chanting the descriptions of the powers that symbolize miracles.
The orderly and low murmur of the power descriptions echoed in their throats before being dispersed by the wind, transforming into indistinct collective murmurs.
It appeared like a frenzied pilgrimage or a spontaneous and tragic sacrifice.
The winding moon-white “dragon” moved forward through the sand and dust, leaving behind trails of crimson that seemed to mark their meandering passage.
By the time the Elders at the front of the procession reached beneath the city gate, the casualties among the Miracle Cult members had already surpassed half.
Without time to count the exact number of losses, several Elders stepped forward together, raising the ornate ceramic vessel resembling a soul urn high above their heads and smashing it forcefully onto the ground.
Accompanied by a sound of shattering that nearly merged into one, streams of light—representing toes, hearts, brains, right eyes—shot skyward, gathering with the fingers that had already arrived suspended in mid-air at the city gate.
In the next moment, an unbearable burst of golden light erupted, tightly packed spells surging within the golden glow, and in a daze, a towering phantom outline emerged from the golden light, leisurely raising its hand to knock on the city gate.
That phantom was none other than the legendary Hong Bian Holy Monk, one of the participants in the construction of Yumen Pass. Only he could knock open the gates of the unclaimed Yumen Pass, allowing members of the Miracle Cult with varying levels of spirit energy fluctuations to enter.
Otherwise, even someone as powerful as Huaiyuan Jun, a Cataclysm Grade, would find it extremely difficult to enter.
“Boom——!”
A thunderous, muffled sound rang out, echoing in the minds of everyone and momentarily causing all to be briefly dazed.
The city gate shook, and a tangible wave of air, laden with immense pressure, surged forth, instantly crushing several Miracle Cult members before continuing to expand, ultimately crashing into the distant wind-eroded hills and causing countless fissures.
“Boom——Boom——!”
After knocking three times on the city gate, the phantom slowly lowered its arm and gradually dissipated, leaving only five withered limbs still suspended in the distance.
In the wait, three seconds of dead silence felt both brief and yet far longer than centuries, and everyone present held their breath.
Then, a low rumbling sound came from within the city, the gate hinge turning as the ancient gate, sealed for so long, slowly opened, releasing a cloud of dust rich with antiquity.
In the next moment, a violent wind roared across the Gobi Desert, sweeping everything in sight toward the city gate.
The closest members of the Miracle Cult instantly vanished from sight.
The finally opened dilapidated gate seemed to transform into a terrifying giant mouth, swallowing everything…
———
Shuiwei Town.
This small town, located about thirty kilometers from Sanlongsha, was established in the 1960s and ’70s due to discoveries of coal and petroleum, but it was abandoned as people’s awareness of environmental conservation grew.
Today, only one coal mining enterprise in the town is barely surviving, and aside from the employees of this enterprise, the remaining residents number fewer than a thousand.
Earlier, a severe sandstorm warning was issued for the town, and as night fell and the winds picked up, the workers returned home early. Under the flickering yellow light, the deserted streets were empty.
In the surrounding area, stories persisted about urban legends claiming that such weather claimed lives, though no one had seen it for themselves, and no one wished to test such risks.
However, at the end of the only straight street in town, the only convenience store remained open, seemingly unafraid of the rumored urban legends.
The store owner was a tall man with a thick beard, currently leaning against the glass counter, staring vacantly through the half-transparent sand-resistant curtain at the street outside, as if waiting for someone.
After a long while, hurried footsteps approached from the distance, followed by the sight of a thin, tall figure, one hand pressed against a cap atop their head while cradling something in the other, rushing over, lifting the curtain, shaking the sand off their body, and tossing a leather bag adorned with the mourning Gray Owl Badge onto the glass counter.
“Boss, I got it! We really received it this time!”
The store owner and the thin, tall man were both members of the Siye Association stationed in Shuiwei Town, usually keeping watch against intrusions by semi-urban legends.
Not long ago, the legendary Yumen Pass had suffered damage, and the Siye Association guardian Huaiyuan Jun and the Yumen Sands Sea Branch leader had gone for repairs, both disappearing thereafter, adding a new task—to monitor the signal of Huaiyuan Jun’s mourning Gray Owl Badge.
Although typically, going missing after entering Yumen Pass, even someone of Cataclysm Grade would have slim chances of survival, and processing as if they had already perished would have been acceptable, each guardian was a valuable resource, and the Siye Association would not give up as long as there was a glimmer of hope.
Therefore, even though the Wordless Book had secretly picked a welfare burial site near the Siye Association Headquarters for Huaiyuan Jun and scheduled a funeral for six months later, she also contacted two long-time Siye Association operatives active near Yumen Pass and assigned them a mission.
It’s always wise to prepare for both possibilities.
However, the two had taken turns monitoring day and night for several days without any results until this evening when the winds began to stir…
At first, the signal from Huaiyuan Jun was very weak, and the thin, tall man on the night shift thought there was an issue with their monitoring spirit energy item. To ensure the accuracy of the results, he even drove out to the Gobi Desert to check.
After waiting against the strong winds for two or three hours, just five minutes ago, the signal from Huaiyuan Jun suddenly intensified, which indicated that Huaiyuan Jun might still be alive…
“That’s great!” The store owner brightened, straightening up to ask, “Did you notify the colleagues at the Gobi Desert? If Huaiyuan Jun is likely still alive, we need to organize a rescue quickly!”
“I contacted them on the way back.” The thin, tall man replied, “They had already started acting before I contacted them, heading toward Sanlongsha.”
“Heading to Sanlongsha? What happened?” The store owner frowned.
The thin, tall man shrugged, “I heard that a large number of semi-urban legends were gathering toward Sanlongsha, oh right, and Miracle Cult members… But I don’t know the specifics.”
“Honestly, I really want to follow and see. Over fifty operatives rated at A-grade and above! It hasn’t been that long since the last battle at Shanhaiguan that we’ve had such a big scene, right?”
“…” The store owner pondered for a few seconds, shaking his head with a bitter smile, “You can only think about it; whatever happens on the Gobi Desert has nothing to do with us, and we can’t help in any way.”
Reporting the information about the suspected survival of Huaiyuan Jun to the Wordless Book would complete their task, and other matters could be left to the higher-level Siye Association operatives stationed in the Gobi Desert.
One was a B-grade spirit ability user, and the other a C-grade spirit ability user; managing to protect the town from semi-urban legends was already taxing enough, and getting involved in the happenings of the Gobi Desert might cost them their lives.
“Alright, help me close the door, let’s have a couple of drinks…”
“Sure!” The thin, tall man grinned, “By the way, didn’t you go on a blind date recently? Why hasn’t there been any news since then?”
“Don’t mention it; her condition was that I must have a house in Dunhuang City, and it must be in the bustling area; otherwise, she worries about encountering urban legends…” The store owner shook his head, “I mean, I’m a Siye Association operative; how could I let my family be attacked by urban legends? Ridiculous!”
“Condolences, condolences.” The thin, tall man said while helping the store owner close the rolling door, offering comfort, “The world is just like that; honestly, not getting married isn’t bad. Many young people aren’t getting married anymore.”
“Do you think that’s a good thing?” The store owner retorted, “I heard last month a semi-urban legend emerged from the anti-marriage movement; they’re currently figuring out how to deal with it!”
“……”
