All directions exuded the essence of monstrous beasts—too numerous to count, yet Qian Ye, by instinct instantaneously, assessed there must be at least two hundred thousand. This figure matched exactly the total number of beasts launched from the Gate in the second offensive wave. Within the depths of the forest, countless still dormant horrors were unknown.
A fleeting wave of trepidation rippled past his consciousness, only to be instantly buried beneath frigid composure. No emotion stirred, sealed as tightly as frost upon ice. Qian Ye was no fool unaware that delving into a forest of this scale teetered dangerously at the edge of self-destruction for one of his level, yet personal risk had long ceased to guide his actions—the ever-depleting sands of time dictated his every movement.
The chasm stretching before him—the same gulf separating ordinary men from gods—left a distance so vast that most would succumb to sheer despair. But he bore neither desire nor luxury for hesitation. Forward he surged—again and again—even his brief lapses for strategical planning served only the immediate need: just one more step against the abyss, with no path of retreat available anymore.
Qian Ye’s form flickered like wraith in mist, weaving through the tide of beasts and quickly reaching the forest’s epicenter. Centering it lay a layout mirrored its counterpart elsewhere—four grand sacred trees cornering an enlarged pool that grew deep enough into a small lake.
The islet grew proportionally colossal. Here, perched upon a massive stone dais rested a colossal stone hall upheld by precisely twelve colossal stone pillars. At its zenith sat the commanding throne even broader, taller—more awe-inspiring than before. The six-armed warrior seated there exuded regal dormancy with hand leaning upon jawbone helm; its frame outweighing the previous ones encountered, clad in an elaborate armor strangely alien to artificial forging as it instead bore patterns and texture that whispered of natural growth rather than craftsperson handiwork.
Outside stood jagged obelisks like sentries standing tall around the edifice—far surpassing all in bulk, height, and thickness; repositories of mobility at one perspective but also potential arsenals if grasped firmly in capable hands.
Suddenly Qian Ye was struck with an uncannily distinct sense of familiarity; realization struck when comparing this form to Six-Limbed Commander deep into Maelstrom depths. Despite being marginally smaller and possessing a somewhat less intimidating presence—on power? Indeed stronger; calling it anything besides general hardly befitting rank.
Survey over—the Commander’s posture trembled sharply: awakening. He found himself in midair the instant awareness struck. Without missing a beat and in accordance to prior encounters, a shot fired from the Saintbinder toward Holy Tree incited immediate wrath. Unsurprised but perhaps overzealous—Six-Armed rose to his fury, breaking free from still slumbered rigidity, lungering forward, outstretched hand catching the bullet unflinching. Cracks split flesh and dust exploded as a feral hiss escaped pained lips; however not before this first salvo shattered a substantial section straight from the throne itself, drawing out equal shock from Qian Ye himself for that single shot failed complete obliteration; clearly everything rooted in these hallowed woodland grounds far outdid mortal norms and limitations.
He re-focused immediately, lifting the Saintbinder again precisely toward the maul’s remains of the shattered seat. Recognition flared across the newly-dubbed Six-Armed; a frantic attempt to shield was launched mid-leap backward only to unleash fresh calamity as the violent motion ruptured stone armor into visible cracks as bits chipped off releasing crimson underflesh hidden beneath layers long petrified away in a single breathless moment. Yet despite his swift counter, he found himself staring down twin black plumes converging as singular doom before they plunged seamlessly into central brow—there went final awareness of conscious pain as the black shaft sunk deep with nary resistance.
In the same heartbeat of execution, Qian Ye’s location vacated like mist evaporated from daylight; no glimmer of pride, no interest taken into confirming kills. Behind—a Commander clawing his own head in indistinguishable despair roared raw and primeval across the landscape.
In short spans the silhouette re-manifested outside the perimeter of deathwood, staggering heavily the moment contact met soil. With one knee hitting earth he buckled; his form struggled, but stood—only due to exhaustive usage of the Voidflash through which he fled through millions of blood-frenzied monstrosities. At this time energy reserves hit total oblivion.
Yet still beyond sanctuary, his instincts whirred as a directional sweep pinpointed distant terrain cover—a sprint followed despite his body’s near collapse. Drawing upon AnDuYa storage space from within, Qian Ye wrestled forth a waiting motorcycle pre-positioned, revving to life instantly—blazing across tundras toward stronghold base.
Following behind surged fathomless legions that spilled from greenwood gates—an accelerating engine’s scream served as unignorable target beacon for predator horde—relentless and eager. A short distance was traversed—monstrosities halted confused, dazed; yet despite their regression a handful of scores maintained unwavering hostility in tireless chase.
He lowered his weight onto handlebar as blood churned rapidly with initiation of Boilingblood technique allowing energy renewal cycles to accelerate. Mid-dash abrupt halting screech occurred with U-turn sharply pivoting back along his chase trail. A whirlwind erupted through remaining pursuers—each falling under his blade until naught stood amidst carcass piles. Re-board mount resumed acceleration unchallenged back home base again.
With safe return morale steadied; observing patterns amongst all Six-Armed lifeforms confirmed their shared behaviors and tendencies—an identical arrangement across the hallowed four-grove systems. He’d already exploited such similarities successfully.
This particular Six-Armed, struck doubly by Primo Shots had sustained grievously deep injury; more promisingly—its wrathful nature will surely not permit it to retreat within and wait passively to convalesce. It will come seeking vengeance—a scenario Qian Ye awaited with readiness. Positioned behind fortified gun mounts upon ten sturdy artillery turrets—mass-produced Naval cannonry installation awaited deployment.
Immediately after arrival, Qian Ye dispatched orders for comprehensive defense mobilization: rapid troop re-muster drafted from the rear echelon. By day’s midpoint, what previously was designed for hosting capacity of forty thousand now bristled with a swarming hundredthousand souls. Rows upon infinite rows bristling muzzles turned outward and upward in quiet ambush for their monstrous dinner guests.
At the turning point of dusk breaking through mist-draped mountains’ first crest, his muscles relaxed—confirmation arrived as hordes emerged in full on the horizons. So finally confirmed—the Six-Limbed could bear its wounds no further, emerging in a rage toward base. Trained patience might allow it to convalesce within its sanctuary and with an ocean of creatures—impossible to approach. Yet he was not of those ranks.
But as long as it willingly marched out beyond those woodlands—that made victory simple, clean.
Qian Ye climbed upon inner citadel’s energy-core tower, voice calm and absolute:
—Prepare for engagement.
In unison the fortress-wide siren tore into ears; instantly the core tower’s release valve expelled dense jets of screeching hot steam with whistling crescendo of readiness. From the initial second the entire installation’s power output climbed instantly into maximum capacity threshold.
First line targets crossed into optimal targeting zone. Rapid-fire cannons initiated the orchestral prelude. Crisscrossing lattices of destruction scythed cleanly through multitudes of incoming. Soon after heavy ship cannons opened fire, tracing paths of utter obliteration upon beast ranks forming crater voids upon direct explosion. As aerial elements approached in formation—their welcoming reception awaited fully integrated anti-air coverage forming impassable killing nets.
Upon storming through initial resistance—beast lines soon found themselves locked between metallic jungle, flanked between layered steel shield fortifications where rows upon rows of armored Lycan clad in forged steel swung cleavers of death—their forms mechanized into meatchoppers reaping those still foolish enough for landing within the fortress grounds.
Even though the quantity of opposing legion stood comparable with second-wave incursions upon first Gate breakout—an unfortunate detail for them lied in the absence of a central command core for coordination. The Saint Seat once destroyed sapped all synchrony into chaos. Beyond that change—his legions have transformed significantly. From the first battles, Lycans fought in primitive tribal attire—armored only with steel slabs barely clasped across chests. Now armored fully within full-body mechanized chassis; their martial might grew unimaginably beyond past levels.
For extended campaigns into the untamed wilds of the untainted continent, Qian Ye himself conceptualized an entire set of counter-measures tailored against these beasts. While certain strategies played crucial, the most important element ironically fell beneath the category often dismissed—”supply-chain logistics”. Utilizing a combination of threats, temptations, promises of rewards, trade credits, borrowing, loans—and everything else—vast supplies of munition were forcibly acquired from the major powerful Nobles.
For eliminating monstrous entities—the optimal answer remains overwhelming firepower; if there’s ever anything superior—it would only ever mean even deadlier firepower raining destruction from above.
At current moment, his base had morphed into one single massive spike-coated warhedgehog, rending all charging enemies into bleeding carcass remains. If the legions fell—it wasn’t solely due to strength. It was through tons of gilded coinage and the weight of supply superiority they were smothered under.
After brutal conflict, Qian Ye’s resounding triumph crowned over entire fields of carnage. He now traced back and identified with relative ease his opponent’s latest hiding location. Six-armed breed possessed habits consistent across every specimen—favoring rearline commanding while hidden deep within specific beast hosts with extreme distinctiveness.
Identifying those particular specimens posed minimal difficulty, but even the top individual among them undoubtedly signified the presence of the Six-Armed’s true location. Naturally wary not of falling for prior preconceptions alone, experience warned by past lessons from Hades itself Qian Ye took every measure possible even to find himself slightly frustrated at the almost too predictable pattern—alike to a scenario that reduced war-winning margins significantly.
Still he followed through. Without prelude, an assembly of ship mounted railguns unleashed precision barrage guided by massive bolts for crossbow with high explosive yield that obliterated shielding creatures and directly impacting against Six-Limbed host—reducing its physical casing beyond recognition while leaving deep impact trauma against its being hidden within.
These salvo salvos alone weren’t truly crippling however—in truth the real damage arose precisely during those moments when the shadow behind these bombardments unleashed two further blasts—Primo Shots that pierced flesh, and shattered spirit.
Six-Armed’s regrowth resilience was nothing trivial however—despite grievous injuries suffered during bombardments—still, with bloodied form it launched a counter-escape effort against determined pursuers who hounded relentlessly. While he managed successful retreats, it wouldn’t prove an unshattened one—scoring minor wounds on multiple occasions.
Naturally, however Qian Ye wouldn’t rest so soon. After taking brief repose outside the forest’s edge for one-half sun cycle he prepared again upon spotting a new plume emerge upon Original Wing’s silhouette and stealth resumed again into the woodlands.
Unlike previous teeming infestation—forest’s current silence stretched unnaturally. Hardly any monstrous life lingered in wake of earlier slaughter wherein the vast bulk had been exterminated before fortress gates.
Infiltration met minimal obstacles as he finally returned to grove center—the four sacred trees stood unchanged, pool similarly unaltered. Yet within its hallowed chamber only fragmented foundation of former throne remained as earlier detonations cleaned remains away in explosive clearing.
Half of Six-Armed Commander’s body now submerged fully in shoreline shallow, his wounded body appeared covered with thin layers across all flesh exposed indicating early recovery. Qian Ye observed the process for first instance with rapt curiosity—for creature as massive and resilient as this lifeform, to regenerate required not simple nutrition restoration—it needed surges of pure energy. And so fast—hinted clearly Saint Tree Liquids offered more miraculous curative properties than previously imagined.
That advantage could not continue unthwarted. With mere flick of his wrist—the Saintbinder fired its miniature grenades—propelled them toward each of holy arbor. Explosive concussions rocked sacred soil. Crags quakes vibrated through root, branches and leaves—lake too responded as surges sent violent ripples outward through its surface.
Immediate consequences erupted violently; Six-Armed jolted upward from dormancy with fury at defilement, all half-healed areas reopened with fresh hemorrhages that painted lake water red with fresh crimson gouts jetting outward.
He spread the dark wing’s plume behind him—a single dark projectile launched outward once more—penetrating Commander’s central skull unopposed again. He clamped both hands over skull’s wound shrieling with ear piercing howls—his frame shook like storm-ensnared ship with flailing limbs, fresh tissue rupturing with each tremor creating more open wounds in short order that bled profusely.
Yet despite overwhelming damage and grievous injuries still—a potent presence lingered; an instinctive alert surged through Qian Ye without reason or explanation. He trusted his gut, withdrawing without unnecessary entanglement or delay and barely managed evasive movement before a swarm of razor-studded stone spears hissed violently overhead impacting precisely where he just stood moments ago.
Pursuit wasn’t attempted despite fury. Confirmed—within these green boundaries Six-Limbed will be restrained against chasing any fugitives from the woods.
Another half-sun’s length he rested—recovered his Primo shot charge again; and again he returned into forest under same stratagem executing another calculated brutalizing against Six-Limbed attempting to replenish energy.
Cycle after cycle—round upon prolonged engagement—it resembled mutual battle of attritional will: endurance between both adversaries as it transformed from contest into endurance gauntlet. Six-Limbed’s absorption of medicinal waters had clearly accelerated. Not nearly fast enough however to outpace consumption-replenishment cycle maintained and powered through Black Bible’s infinite reserves of Blood essence storage available through Qian Ye himself.
For three days they waged that war under canopy’s ever-watching leaves—through it all Qian Ye persisted through methodically calculated strikes, until finally six total shots fired had delivered the coup de grace upon Six-Armed Commander causing his final shattering; leaving a lone gleaming crystal behind—pulsing with barely detectable remains of essence once held.
Thus through calculated measures, sheer tenacity combined along with unspoken necessity for sheer luck beyond all reason, Qian Ye successfully seized domain claim over the Saint Grove encrusted Four-Sacred-Tree Woodland once known solely for monstrous dominance and death.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage