Chapter 470: Chapter 470
470: Chapter 465: Tribes in the Dark Tide 470: Chapter 465: Tribes in the Dark Tide The breath of the giant serpent still lingered in the space, impossible to dissipate.
Baili An didn’t know much about this world yet, nor did he know how to find the Bronze Gate to leave this place.
However, since the Pici Bird had seen traces of human survival in this world, the secrets of this world were not entirely untraceable.
The group departed down the mountain, heading south.
As far as the eye could see, the jungle in the south was dense and overgrown, with the faint outlines of Human Race tribes discernible in the distance.
They continued with Sword Flight toward the south, where the stars of the long night had suddenly dimmed, and finally, after an immeasurable night longer than any back in the Mortal World, a hazy light greeted the eastern sky.
Such a celestial phenomenon indicated that the sun would not take long to rise and illuminate the earth.
That’s what Baili An had thought, so he had unfolded the Glazed Umbrella in advance.
From within the Mortal World’s tribal village, a few rooster crows could be heard.
Under the look, a myriad of fires spread rapidly, lighting up the place.
It seemed that the people in the tribe felt neither joy nor ease with the arrival of this long-awaited dawn; Baili An saw someone with a bag hurriedly running towards the eastern hills.
Like lions prowling the grasslands chasing the sunrise, they ran across the hills.
Their speed was incredibly fast, not inferior to the speed of Sword Control, clearly not ordinary humans.
Upon reaching the top of the eastern hill, they quickly laid out their bags which, to their surprise, were packed full of black seeds.
Bathed in the light of dawn, the seeds that were black and stone-like softened and shifted in hue, becoming colorful seeds of different varieties.
Before the sun could break the darkness from the mountaintop, the light that had broken through seemed to set like the evening sun, disappearing entirely.
As the last strands of dawn vanished from the sky, the people failed to witness a morning rise in the world of the Bronze Gate.
Stars and celestial bodies vanished into annihilation; suddenly, the world became deathly silent, without a hint of noise.
Even the sound of the dozen men running and roaring seemed to be devoured by the darkness of the world.
Darkness descended silently from all around the world, swallowing even the heavens and the earth.
The muscles of those dozen men tensed, their bodies extracting the utmost strength, their speed surpassing that of Sword Flight; with each stride, dust and pebbles on the ground were flung meters into the air.
Around the walls of the tribe, four ancient Divine Statues stood guard, weathered and covered in moss, looking as if they had withstood the passage of countless years.
Darkness enveloped everything like a tide coming in.
It quickly approached from behind the dozen men, rushing toward them like the tide seeking to Devour.
“This darkness…” Fang Geyu furrowed his brows, “is far more terrifying than the dark aura that seeped out when the Bronze Gate opened.”
Si Li glanced around and said, “The darkness when the Bronze Gate opened merely pulled living creatures from Ghost Mountain into this world, but this darkness…
it can devour people.”
As the dozen men approached the tribe, a faint glow emanated from the four Divine Statues, as if they contained the power that the shadows in the darkness dreaded; the closer they got to the tribe, the slower the oncoming darkness spread.
The men streamed in one by one; just then, from behind them in the shadows, an eerily pale hand with blue veins made a sudden grab at the last man’s arm, its long black nails piercing his flesh.
He let out a cry of pain but didn’t call for help from his companions, who had already run into the tribe, nor did those who had entered seem inclined to come to his rescue.
Separated by wooden stone fences, they looked on at the man’s plight with calm, almost indifferent expressions, as if such tragedies were a daily occurrence.
Just as the man was about to be dragged into the darkness, Baili An descended with Sword Control and struck like lightning, seizing the cold pale hand.
A scream, unlike any human sound, echoed from the darkness, and the hand quickly evaporated into a puff of blue smoke as if scorched by blazing fire.
Baili An grasped the man by the collar and hurriedly flew into the tribe.
Fang Geyu and the others followed by Sword Flight.
Before the injured man could offer his thanks, he collapsed on the ground, convulsing in agony as blood, red tinged with an eerie green, oozed thickly from between his fingers, filling the air with a foul stench.
The faces of a dozen onlookers turned pale, and none of them approached.
Baili An surveyed the surroundings with a frown and asked, “Don’t you have any healing medicine?”
They were from the same tribe, kin to one another, and yet they seemed exceptionally indifferent.
One man, his eyes shaded with a hint of peculiarity, glanced at Baili An, showing no surprise at his sudden appearance.
He spoke in a low voice, tinged with fear, “He’s been injured by a corpse ghoul, infected with ghost poison — he won’t survive.
Even if you saved him, he’ll only bring harm.
There’s no medicine to cure him.”
Just then, the crowd parted slowly, and a small child with a jade-like countenance came forward with hands clasped behind his back.
Despite his young and tender Tuanzi looks, with a playful topknot on his little head and seeming to be no more than four or five years old, he walked with a grave and mature expression.
The injured man coughed out bright red blood repeatedly, and near the end, the coughed blood turned foul-smelling and green.
His eyes bulged in pain, and he took the bag of seeds from his back, struggling to say, “My lord…
this is my harvest today…
my child is still young, I hope the lord can look after him…
The child’s brow furrowed, and without a word, he pulled a small bottle from his sleeve, approaching the man and pouring the blue liquid onto the man’s arm.
The foul greenish pus quickly diluted, and the wounds with five bright red holes swiftly healed.
The man’s demeanor brightened with fading despair as he prostrated on the ground, sniveling.
The child shook the little bottle, observing the liquid that was nearly depleted, a hint of pain flickering across his Tuanzi face.
Impatiently, he said, “Alright, that’s enough.
I detest children the most; just take care of that brat yourself.”
“But Lord, that was one of the tribute offerings for the Divine Envoy this month.
By using it now, I fear…”
“What’s there to fear?
Am I supposed to be scared of that mere Divine Envoy?!” The child gave a cold glance to the speaker, his harmless appearance belying the imposing aura within his gaze.
The man, caught by his look, fell silent, trembling in fear.
As the man who had been kneeling left, he did not forget to bow repeatedly to Baili An, his gratitude apparent beyond words.
“It looks like another bunch of unlucky newcomers.” The child, clearly with high status within the tribe, smoothed out his wide sleeves trailing on the ground.
Small in stature, yet dressed in adult-sized robes with wide sleeves and a jade belt around the waist, he looked somewhat comical and endearing.