Vol 2 Chapter 142: Legend of the Arrival

The warhorse galloped through the forest shade, light filtering down through the gaps in the leaves. Its hooves sank into the grassy earth, kicking up clods of soil before the steed leaped forward once more, charging ahead at high speed.

The wind whistled past Sylutia’s ears. In her perception, the traces of pursuit grew increasingly distinct, signaling she was drawing closer and closer to those who had been captured.

Inside a valley, a massive magic array had already been fully drawn. Figures clad in dark crimson robes bustled about, continuously perfecting the ritual site soon to be used. They bound the captured prisoners one by one, blindfolding them.

Among these people were many villagers from within Regas, as well as some captured Anty soldiers. However, these identities held no distinction in the upcoming ritual.

“Master, one of our squads has captured nearly 400 more people, and they’ve also brought back good news.”

The cult leader was currently standing inside a tent, examining a hanging map of Regas. Many locations were already marked and annotated on it.

“Oh? What good news?” He turned his head, revealing two pairs of sinister, unnatural eyes.

“We discovered a hermitage near Scorchstone City. It’s a place ordinary people would never find, and the surrounding area has ample water sources and food-gathering points.”

“Excellent. That gives us another stronghold.” The leader nodded, then seemed to think of something. “How was this hermitage discovered?”

“It was through these four hundred captives. They were originally miners from Scorchstone City, but they couldn’t endure the exploitation and torture, so they escaped and went into hiding there.”

“It seems your luck was good this time.” The leader patted the other man on the shoulder, then dismissed him.

After remaining in the tent a while longer, this leader walked out and headed towards another location deep within the valley. Here, a more luxurious tent was pitched, guarded by several knights.

After a brief announcement, he entered, finding Prince Jabers leaning against a bed, his spirit weary and haggard.

“Your Highness, the Prince.” He uttered the name, but his head and body showed not the slightest hint of a bow. It seemed this verbal acknowledgment was merely a superficial nod to the difference in status.

Prince Jabers’s eyes were vacant. Hearing the address, it took him a long moment to refocus. He then sat up straight with a defeated air.

“What is it? Speak.”

“The new ritual site within the valley is nearly ready. The ceremony will be held tomorrow night. Please prepare yourself, Your Highness.”

“A ritual? That kind of ritual again?” Prince Jabers flung his arm out in irritation. Unfortunately, there were no porcelain ornaments here for him to vent his emotions on. “For your damned rituals, how many of my loyal subordinates have died? And now you want me to prepare? Prepare what? With what shall I prepare?”

Hearing this, the cult leader’s expression remained unchanged.

“Your Highness, Prince, once this ritual succeeds, we will possess power far surpassing that of the Anty people. Then, you can have as many loyal subordinates as you wish.”

“Although we failed to eliminate Carkis last time, you witnessed our power yourself.”

“For victory, certain sacrifices are necessary. You cannot gain everything from nothing. No one would follow you if that were the case.”

“By participating in the ritual tomorrow night, not only will you enhance its efficacy, but you will also gain the power to defeat your enemies. Do you not wish to personally slay your foes, avenge your parents and brothers, and establish a supreme legacy?”

“Your ancestors fought countless battles to forge their formidable reputation. Even when the Kingdom of Regas was small, the surrounding nations all feared and respected it. That is a glory and status unimaginable to their successors.”

“Those without power, no matter how much they speak, will only be mocked by others. Your Highness, you should understand this better than I do.”

Under this barrage of words, Prince Jabers fell silent.

His fists clenched, fingers digging into his palms. It was a long while before he wearily relaxed them.

“Tell me. What must I do in the ritual?”

Seeing the Prince’s resolve wavering, the leader’s lips curled up slightly. He then began to explain in detail.

…

“This… what will happen to those people?” Prince Jabers still harbored some hesitation.

“If you fail, they will also die under the Anty soldiers’ blades. You must understand, even the most excellent generals sacrifice soldiers in war. It is an unavoidable reality.”

“Without victory, there is nothing.”

“As long as you continue to achieve victory, people will flock to your banner endlessly. And this small matter will be forgotten.”

“Victors are beyond reproach.”

Under his persuasive words, Prince Jabers finally cast aside his hesitation.

“Alright. If it can succeed. But my sister must not know. Her nature is kind and gentle; she couldn’t bear to see such things.”

“I will have someone take good care of Princess Mursa.” The leader promised.

Having convinced the Prince, he walked out of the tent with satisfaction. As he looked down upon the valley once more, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and take a deep breath, savoring the intoxicating scent of impending victory.

The great undertaking the Hundred-Eyes Sect had prepared for centuries would be accomplished in his hands. He had succeeded once, and he would succeed again.

The stars were already in position. Before the Leo constellation obscured the rift, he would once again call upon the great existence from beyond the Astral Plane. And this time, his goal was not merely to birth a few ‘Demon Contractors’. It was the centuries-old aspiration passed down through the Hundred-Eyes Sect—to have the true ‘Alien Star’ descend once more…

On the mountain path, Sylutia crested a hill and urged her horse forward, finally spotting the procession ahead.

It was a convoy of roughly 800 people. About 200 were cultists in dark crimson robes, while the rest were captured ordinary civilians. Among these prisoners were not only the captured miners and refugees but also residents from nearby villages, and even some captured Anty soldiers.

*Have I finally caught up?* Sylutia thought. She then accelerated further, charging down the hillside. At that moment, Karen had just ridden her horse to the top of the slope. Seeing Sylutia had already charged ahead, she grew quite worried about whether this young woman could face the enemy alone. She also spurred her horse to follow, pulling the longbow from her quiver bag and nocking an arrow.

The equestrian skills Sylutia had learned on the Glittergold Plains were fully unleashed today. During the relentless chase, she continuously adjusted her movements based on feedback, synchronizing her own rhythm with the warhorse beneath her. This not only minimized the burden on the galloping steed but also allowed her own rhythm to influence the horse, guiding its gallop into a highly efficient and stable cadence.

On the plain, this long procession was advancing. Suddenly, a single rider swiftly skirted past them from the grassy side. Before the people in the convoy could even question or attack, this rider and horse had already streaked past before their eyes.

In less than ten seconds, Sylutia overtook the entire procession, reaching a position ahead of them. She then sharply wheeled her horse around. Hooves reared high, spraying earth, as she positioned herself squarely across their path.

With the road forward now blocked, the leading cultist urged his horse forward. The members following behind raised their crossbows, aiming at the young woman, treating her with wary hostility.

“Who are you? Get out of the way.” This Second Tier cultist frowned, drawing the longsword at his side.

At this moment, Sylutia adjusted her breathing and shook her head in refusal.

“It is I who should ask who you are, and why you are doing such things.”

“Such things? Heh.” Hearing this naive question, he and his companion couldn’t help but laugh scornfully. “Did you just leave your parents’ embrace? Asking others why? This is none of your business.” He was gradually getting a clearer view of Sylutia’s features. “Since you’re not bad-looking, you can come with us too.”

“Blame yourself for foolishly charging over here.” Having said that, he and his companion spurred their horses forward, intending to simply unhorse and capture this young woman.

However, as they charged, the aura emanating from the young woman before them abruptly transformed. It surged from the First Tier level they had initially observed, climbing all the way to the Third Tier. Under the intense suppression of her superior Aspect, their own warhorses grew restless and agitated. And with the young woman as the epicenter, verdant grass and leaves spread outward like waves, growing and extending endlessly.

That was not the end. Numerous vines spread like a fence, creeping towards the entire convoy until they completely encircled all eight hundred-plus people.

The emerald vines intertwined, climbing upward, continuously extending like walls. Then, from the vine branches, eerie, blood-red thorns bloomed, gradually filling and sealing off their field of vision.

Only at this moment did the cultists in this procession realize something was terribly wrong. They stared in shock at the black-haired young woman standing on the hillside. They saw emerald light swirling within her pupils, an aura of natural life force continuously spreading. In an instant, it transformed the grassland they stood upon into a verdant cage of vines and creepers.

“Who exactly are you?!” A Demon Contractor rushed out from the ranks of the procession. Behind him, a massive eyeball monster, roughly four meters tall, slowly materialized from the void.

Sinister purple light gathered within that eyeball, then shot forth.

The dark violet beam instantly engulfed the young woman’s figure. Just as a flicker of triumph rose in this Demon Contractor’s heart, that figure emerged unscathed from the dark violet ray. An invisible barrier shimmered around her body. When the dark violet beam struck it, it instantly disintegrated into fine, scattered streams of sand.

“What is this?!” The Demon Contractor commanding the Eye Tyrant couldn’t comprehend this situation at all, until his gaze met the young woman’s.

Eyes are the windows to the soul, the most accessible channel to one’s consciousness. They are the medium through which many secret arts are performed, the most crucial Gate.

In that instant, his initial reaction was excitement. As a member of the Hundred-Eyes Sect, he possessed powerful ocular techniques. By making eye contact with an enemy, he could maximize the effects of these techniques—whether intimidation, illusion, or hypnosis. He had countless methods to make this young woman submit and yield.

Then, when he saw the young woman’s eyes, he froze completely.

What kind of beautiful eyes were these? Within those translucent blue irises, it was as if countless stellar sands swirled, myriads of starlights shimmered and sublimated. It seemed a thousand words were being narrated, countless scenes evolving within.

Slowly, this Demon Contractor abandoned all resistance. He gradually lowered himself, kneeling on one knee upon the ground.

“Great Arrival, I submit myself to you.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep