Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1144

The repulsive force in his hands was immense, reminding Jenkins of a long time ago when he had merged the Purification Candle and the Inexhaustible Fire. A similar situation had occurred then. But that experience was no help now. Jenkins could only use brute force to press the two together. To the cat and the elf, it looked as if he were bending over, pushing an infinity symbol of red and gold toward the ground.

Although the old elf couldn't understand what was happening, his long life had granted him boundless knowledge and experience.

"What am I supposed to use to cut my skin? Bite my own tongue?"

Jenkins yelled, his brows furrowed, every muscle in his hands straining. Google seaʀᴄh noveⅼfire.net

The cat looked eager to help, but the old elf had already stepped up to Jenkins's side. The erupting light sizzled like a chainsaw, so Jenkins couldn't make out what the old elf was muttering as he approached with a silver ritual dagger, only vaguely catching what sounded like words of repentance and prayer.

He whispered to Jenkins, then used the dagger to slice off the young writer's sleeves before making a shallow cut on the upper part of each arm.

For a fleeting moment, he seemed to see a colossal tree rise from the earth, and the roar of countless prayers and cheers exploded in his ears. But when his senses returned, he saw the half-gold, half-red infinity symbol ascending into the air.

The cat, the man, and the elf all looked up at it. The symbol, formed of red and gold light, seemed to burn itself into the very air.

In the center of the infinity symbol, a point of white light abruptly appeared and began to absorb the overflowing power. The iridescent colors slowly contracted, drawn into the faintly visible arrow.

Finally, Jenkins reached out and watched as an arrow, engraved with green leaves and delicate vines, slowly descended from the sky. It gleamed in the darkness, serene and restrained amidst the frenzied downpour.

The old elf was speechless. Even knowing the extraordinary nature of the sacrificial bloodline, he could never have imagined such a scene.

Jenkins held out his hand, and the elf, after a moment's hesitation, passed him the bow. As Jenkins extended his hand, the old elf noticed that his hand, like the arrow, was also glowing.

No, it wasn't just his hand. Jenkins's entire body was luminous. In that moment, the young man in the darkness was like a saint walking among mortals. His eyes, now a shade of purple, calmly met the elf's gaze. The elf instinctively took a step back and bowed in reverence.

"Huh? He hasn't figured out I'm a god, has he?"

"Huh? He hasn't figured out he's a descendant of the priests, has he?"

The same awkward thought crossed both their minds. Jenkins cleared his throat, embarrassed, and with a touch of his hands, restored his severed sleeves. The elf said nothing, assuming it was some kind of restoration or textile-related ability.

The window was open. Standing before it, the elf and Jenkins could see the dark night sky, the pouring rain, and the occasional flash of unusually colored lightning that tore across the heavens.

Angels and mortals were fighting above and below the clouds. The fluctuations of spirit and the strange celestial phenomena had captured the attention of most Enchanters in the city. But Jenkins spotted it in a single glance—his unique "treasure," soaring freely high in the sky.

He had never learned archery, but the moment he took the bow, the knowledge of how to shoot flooded his mind as if by instinct. It was as if this body had undergone countless hours of training, perfectly attuned to this unfamiliar bow.

The power of his bloodline set Jenkins at ease as the ancient, inherited memories of the elves surfaced in his mind for the first time.

The golden phantom around him grew brighter, shining like a dazzling sun before the window. Jenkins stretched his back muscles, raised the longbow, and nocked the arrow, aiming it toward the sky.

The wind rose. Though a gale already raged within the storm, this sudden gust was different. Every creature in the sky instinctively froze for a moment, as if being watched by a strange, primordial beast.

With a piercing creak, Jenkins began to draw the bowstring. Golden light flowed from his palm, enveloping the longbow, while a silver radiance shot out from the arrow, refusing to be outdone, as if vying for supremacy with the gold.

In that instant, every plant in the city swayed in unison. In the distant Evergreen Forest, the sea of trees rustled in the rain, sounding as if the elves were chanting songs of old.

The wind carried green leaves throughout the city. No one knew why such a gentle breeze had appeared on this stormy night, nor where the countless leaves had come from.

As Jenkins drew the bow, the green emblem representing his [Life Source] naturally materialized at his feet, encircling him like the base of a ritual formation.

This time, the old elf bowed deeply, softly praising the blossoms, praising the elves, praising life itself.

He controlled his breathing, his sharp gaze guiding the arrow toward the heavens. His muscles twitched, seeking the perfect tension to perform a miracle. His mind was taut, like the bowstring itself, waiting for the final release.

From where Jenkins stood, flowers, vines, and blades of grass sprouted rapidly across the floor, walls, and windowsill. The downpour did not extinguish these small lives; instead, it seemed to nourish them as they spread like a persistent malady, encroaching upon the rain-washed city.

The spirit within him flowed smoothly into the weapon in his hands, and in that moment, the gold and silver light solidified into one.

"I declare: a direct hit!"

Jenkins said softly, his purple eyes clearly seeing the four angels in four different directions, even though they were mostly hidden within the clouds.

In his mortal state, he possessed no power like Word of Command, so the phrase was merely a psychological suggestion for himself.

The cat, however, did possess a power like Word of Command. Its meow truly imbued Jenkins's shot with the power of a guaranteed hit.

The bowstring was drawn taut, and a dazzling light converged upon the entire arrow. The blinding brilliance flickered in the rain like an exploding sun, and the combatants in the sky instinctively turned to look down.

In that instant, the downpour ceased. The gales died. Beneath a dark night sky filled with blossoms and green leaves, a small point of light rose from the ground. At a speed that seemed to tear through space itself, it pierced the heavens like the celestial pillar of ancient legend.

A seemingly endless radiance bloomed in the night sky. The pillar of light shot diagonally upward from the ground, punching a hole through the dark clouds and revealing the serene night sky beyond.