Chapter Eight: The End of the Line

Seeing the chieftain perish alongside the two cardinals, the remaining Jiuli warriors let out cries of grief, their attacks becoming even more ferocious. One after another, they activated their blood-burning secret techniques, following in the chieftain's footsteps.

At that moment, a wave of immense pressure emanated from the rear of the Church's forces. The sight of a scarlet-robed figure standing out among the sea of black armor struck a deep despair into the hearts of the remaining Jiuli clan members.

Another cardinal. The Church had another cardinal.

The Pope had sent Soladashyn with two cardinals for a reason, fearing that the chieftain at the peak of the Saint realm might choose to sacrifice himself in a desperate act. Now that the chieftain was dead, this final cardinal had come to the forefront. Although he might not be as powerful as Soladashyn, he was still enough to change the course of the battle.

Seeing this new development, Li Zhuo, worn down by repeated clashes, exchanged a powerful blow with the Purple-robed warrior of Star Diamond level across from him, using the opportunity to withdraw from the range of their attacks. He raised his eyes to the newly arrived cardinal. Only a Saint could kill another Saint. The four Star Diamond warriors facing him had merely been stalling him, preventing him from entering the battlefield.

Li Zhuo's gaze did not linger long on the cardinal. Instead, he looked towards his beloved not far away. The two exchanged a smile, already understanding each other's resolve.

A seven-petaled blood-red rose bloomed at the center of Li Zhuo's brow, and his already waning aura surged once more.

"Dragon Soars Across the Seas!"

A phantom of a massive dragon appeared behind Li Zhuo, with his form at its head. The dragon raised its head high, charging straight towards the newly arrived cardinal. The dragon's shadow moved like a serpent, winding and twisting, yet with an overwhelming presence.

The four Purple-robed warriors who stood in his way were struck down, spitting blood as they fell heavily to the ground, severely wounded. Li Zhuo's target was clear, the dragon piercing through the battlefield, spanning kilometers, heading straight for the cardinal.

In its wake, swathes of the Church's black-armored soldiers fell to the ground.

Seeing the arrogant smile on the cardinal's face, Li Zhuo bared his teeth, revealing two white fangs, as the two of them collided with a thunderous crash, dazzling lights flashing from their clashing skills.

Li Zhuo's body was soon riddled with bloody wounds, adopting a reckless, life-for-life fighting style. He knew that once the time for the seventh-level blood-burn passed, he would be too weak to continue the fight. Taking down the last cardinal was his best option.

As her husband faced death, the beautiful woman's brow also bloomed with a blood-red rose.

"Xiao'ao, Mother can't stay with you any longer. You must live well."

Shiyun Lan's mind replayed her moments with Li Zhuo, from their fateful meeting to the birth of their son, Li Ao, watching him grow from a babbling child to the clan's most talented youth. Her eyes were filled with reluctance.

In truth, they had not been the most attentive parents, often occupied with official duties, unable to be with their child. But this did not diminish her love for Li Ao; if anything, it made her feel even more guilty, even more eager to make it up to him. Yet, there would no longer be a chance.

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, but the sword in her hand was already poised before her chest.

A sword light, connecting heaven and earth, formed before Shiyun Lan. With a gentle swing, the sword light slashed toward the black tide in front of her. Wherever it passed, black armor was cleaved in two, and crimson blood spurted like fountains.

The beautiful woman leaned on her sword, half-kneeling on the ground, watching the blood form a river before her. She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, smiling as a paladin approached, driving his sword into her chest.

With both leaders dead, the remaining Dragonrider Guards began to fight desperately. Each time a blood-red rose bloomed, countless lives were lost, becoming a symbol of death.

One after another, blood flowers blossomed within the black tide, brilliant yet tragic.

...

The fire lit up half the night sky.

The sounds of battle had faded. The once-bustling desert fortress was now silent, its former glory gone.

The ground before the city was littered with severed limbs, broken swords, shattered shields, piles of corpses, and rivers of blood. Not a single man of the Jiuli clan, from the youngest boys to the elderly, had fled. They had charged into battle, all fighting and dying before the gates of Jiuli City.

The old and the young who remained in the city did not retreat either, using the terrain to inflict heavy losses on the Church's forces.

But the Church had come prepared. Despite suffering heavy casualties, they had still captured the desert fortress.

The two large characters for "Jiuli" on the city gate had been shattered. The black-armored Judgement Army and white-robed priests moved through the city, personally killing every remaining Jiuli clansman who still moaned or cursed, sparing not even cats or dogs. The inside and outside of Jiuli City had become a scene from hell on earth.

The Dragonrider Clan, a legacy passed down since the Golden Age for thousands of years, had now become nothing more than a fleeting memory.

From this day forward, there would be no more Dragonriders in the world.

...

Gurgle, gurgle.

A grumbling stomach pulled Li Ao from his sleep.

The air in the hidden chamber was fresh, not stuffy at all. Not far away, an hourglass had been placed to mark the passage of time.

The smooth stone walls were lined with luminous pearls and hidden compartments filled with all sorts of strange objects—treasures, medicines, weapons, enchanted scrolls, protective artifacts—all of it the inheritance the Jiuli clan had prepared for this day.

Stretching his stiff limbs, Li Ao pushed himself up from the ground, cupping his hands in the well water beside him to wash his face. From his storage ring, he retrieved some water and food, eating in silence.

His mind was still filled with the images of his clansmen's tragic deaths, with not a trace of joy at having survived.

The road called life was still long, but from now on, he would walk it alone. Fortunately, the hatred within him would be enough to sustain him.

After finishing his meal, Li Ao didn't idle. He meticulously studied the items within the hidden compartments in the walls. After sorting the wealth and weapons, he stored them in his storage ring. Among them, two items stood out as the most valuable: a defensive artifact known as the Dragonfire Amulet and a pair of legendary daggers called Broken Wings.

In addition, there were dozens of teleportation scrolls and healing potions, all of which Li Ao carefully placed into his storage ring.

Li Ao did not rush to leave the chamber. His patience had been honed through countless desert trials. With the sound of the hourglass ticking away, he stayed in the chamber for a full seven days.

When the eighth day arrived, the young man, who had been resting quietly in a corner of the chamber, suddenly opened his eyes at the sound of the hourglass. His source of energy, the Source Palace, was fully replenished, and the aftereffects of his blood-burning technique had long since subsided.

A week had passed.

The Church had likely already obtained whatever they came for. Even if they had left some forces behind, they would have let their guard down by now. It was time to leave.

Li Ao retrieved the bundle that had been stored in his spatial ring, carefully examining its contents. He had spent the last seven days adjusting his condition, and now that he was about to leave, it was time to see what the greatest inheritance left to him by the old chieftain was.

When he opened the bundle, the first thing that caught his eye was a short sword of Exceptional quality.

Weapons were classified into seven grades: Common, Fine, Superior, Exceptional, Rare, Epic, and Legendary. Above Legendary, there was one more grade, Peerless, though it was so rare that it wasn't officially listed.

The old chieftain had been thoughtful; with the Jiuli clan no longer there to protect Li Ao, he couldn't very well carry a Legendary-quality knight's sword around, drawing too much attention. The saying "a man without a weapon is innocent, but possessing a treasure makes him guilty" was something everyone understood. An Exceptional-quality weapon, while precious, wouldn't be enough to make people covet it too much.

Beside the short sword was an anonymous money card, along with some clothes and food.

Underneath those were several books: one on Advanced Enchanting, another on Advanced Enchantment Runes, and the Jiuli clan's Blood-Burning Secret Technique. The cover of the Blood-Burning manual bore two blood-red characters that starkly warned, "Use with Caution."

Finally, Li Ao found what he had been most eager to see.

At the bottom of the bundle lay a ghostly mask, quietly resting there.

The mask was black with chaotic blood-red patterns etched across it, exuding a strange beauty. It was a design Li Ao had never seen before.

The mask seemed to possess an inexplicable power, drawing Li Ao's gaze, filling his heart with an irresistible desire—to touch it, to possess it.

His fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the mask, his mind already envisioning himself wearing it, radiating a powerful and invincible aura.

Invincibility.

Yes, as long as he wore it, he would be invincible. That was Li Ao's most immediate thought.

The seductive voice seemed to come from the depths of the netherworld, piercing directly into Li Ao's mind:

"Put it on… Put it on."

Li Ao's fingers soon touched the mask, which felt cool, with a texture unlike any metal. His eyes glazed over, his mind echoing with that insistent command to wear it, as if he were enchanted.

Sensing its master's distress, the Xueji Sword appeared in Li Ao's hand, its hilt adorned with snowflakes that began to swirl, sending a chill through his body, piercing his very soul.

The newly acquired Dragonfire Amulet also emitted radiant light.

Under the combined influence of the cold and the radiant light, Li Ao regained a brief moment of clarity. His arm jerked as if shocked, his whole body trembling.

The mask, which he had half-lifted, fell back into the bundle.

Li Ao patted his chest, still shaken, and cast a wary glance at the mask. He placed it in a corner of his storage ring, deciding to bury it in the snow for the foreseeable future.

He was determined to gain the power for revenge, but he had no intention of losing his sanity or becoming something strange.

After securing the ghostly mask, Li Ao turned his attention to the last item in the bundle—a crystal-clear jade token.

Li Ao recognized the token; it was the symbol of the Oasis Sanctuary, also serving as a guide to its location.

The Oasis Sanctuary was a place where treasures were stored, a sanctuary that had existed for a thousand years. Its founder had established an oath bound by the will of heaven:

"Sanctuary members must protect stored items with their lives. They may not use or seize these items for themselves. Those who break this oath will suffer the torment of heart-devouring and body-burning."

This had earned the trust of many factions. After all, many had treasures that, for various reasons, they could not or did not want to keep in their own territory. In such cases, they would choose to store them in the Oasis Sanctuary.

Having packed everything, Li Ao recalled the moment when his mind had been bewitched by the mask, and a question arose in his heart.

What was this greatest inheritance? Why was it so eerie?

But no matter how much Li Ao pondered, he couldn't figure out the origins of the mask. After thinking it over and finding no answers, he gave up on the idea of investigating further.

Right now, the most important thing was to escape this place. Only by surviving would he have the right to consider the future.