https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-834-The-Beast-Trapped-in-the-Mire/13677776/
Chapter 835: The World Enveloped by Ash
“Spines!”
Another Cultist was sawed clean in half. His Remnant Body collapsed onto the ground, wounds gushing blood and fragments of Internal Organs. Thick liquid surged across the altar, gurgling like a river, filling the air with a sickening, metallic stench.
“There he is!” A Cultist pointed toward a towering shadow in the distance, shouting with feverish excitement.
But before the Dragon Worship Church’s strength could gather and surround him, a thick barrel—forged of steel—lanced out from the smoky veil. Its dark Gun Muzzle locked onto the screaming Cultist.
Boom!
A crimson-orange bullet shot forth with explosive force, tearing through the air. It struck the Cultist’s head dead center, shattering the scaled skull like a rotten melon. Pinkish-white matter splattered everywhere.
“Damned—where are those Empire bastards?!”
“We’ve got over a thousand here! Let’s swarm them—tear those Rebels to shreds!”
In the thick smoke, the Dragon-Scaled Cultivators moved like a storm, swift and merciless. No one could stop their slaughter.
Once proud, arrogant, and accustomed to treating Humans as sacrificial offerings, the Cultists now cowered like lambs surrounded by wolves—powerless, trembling in fear, huddled behind the altar.
Above, a Flying Warship remained invisible, its silhouette shifting through the haze. It rained down crimson-orange missiles, blasting any Cultist who tried to flee into charred fragments. Around the altar, a Wall of Death formed, forged from fire and ruin.
“O Tiamat, grant me the fury of the storm—scatter the Enemy’s skeletons!”
Mahmud raised his Scepter high. A gale surged forth, thick with the scent of blood, tearing through the smoke. The dust cloud parted, revealing the muscular, armored forms of the hidden Cultivators.
“Discovered,” Steel Tide said, a menacing smile spreading across his face. He swung his Chain Saw Sword in a brutal arc, decapitating a Cultist. The headless corpse tumbled to the ground. He turned toward the distant Evil Dragon Priest.
“Kill the boss!”
“Charge!”
“For the Empire! For the Emperor!”
The Dragon-Scaled Cultivators roared, charging forward at blinding speed—like wrathful giants, their massive statures overwhelming, descending from all sides upon the priest.
“Useless fools! Get in front of me!” Mahmud bellowed in shock. His narrow vertical pupils flared with a cold, gleaming light. Instantly, the Cultists surged forward, throwing themselves into the path of the oncoming storm, forming a living wall of flesh and bone.
“Guardianship, Mahmud-sama!”
“For Tiamat!”
Steel Tide didn’t hesitate. He swung his Chain Saw Sword with a cold, mocking laugh:
“Want to block us with a Human Wave? You’re dreaming.”
The jagged teeth of the saw spun at high speed, slicing through skin, flesh, and bone with terrifying ease. One stroke—limbs torn apart, bloodlight erupting into the sky like a crimson storm. Dozens of Cultists were split in two, their bodies reduced to bloody ruin.
Each Dragon-Scaled Cultivator was a mobile meat grinder, methodically shredding everything in their path. On the wall of flesh they’d built, gaping wounds opened like craters.
Mahmud raised his Scepter, pointing at the approaching Cultivators. His voice chanted ancient words in the Dragon Tongue:
“Destruction—by thunderous annihilation, rend their bodies and shatter their spiritual souls!”
A crackling burst of silver-white lightning erupted from the Dragon Eyes atop the Scepter—like serpents of light, lashing out toward the enemy.
Steel Tide rolled sideways, dodging the first bolt. He raised a small Energy Shield on his arm, bracing against the second.
He reloaded a specialized Bullet, lifted his Blast Arrow Rifle, and aimed the Gun Muzzle straight at Mahmud.
Boom!
A red-glowing bullet shot from the muzzle, tearing through the air with a deafening spines roar. It screamed toward the Evil Dragon Priest’s heart.
“Another one of those Empire contraptions,” Mahmud muttered, his gaze darkening. A glint of silver flashed in his pupils as he summoned a massive, translucent energy sphere around himself—his Divine Spell Shield.
Steel Tide didn’t flinch. Instead, a look of anticipation gleamed in his eyes.
The bullet’s tip pulsed with intense, high-speed rotation. Intricate carvings flared across its surface, emitting a torrent of anti-magic metallic energy—high temperature, high pressure. It was like a spear forged from pure destruction, piercing the dark sphere with a single, brutal strike.
It was an Empire-made Anti-Magic Armor-Piercing Bullet—designed specifically to bypass spellcasters’ protective wards. In关键时刻, it delivered the final blow.
The Divine Shield shattered. Mahmud’s face contorted in shock, his pupils widening. He activated multiple Magical Equipment in rapid succession—seven layered Spell Shields flared around his body, their lights flashing in dazzling harmony.
But the Anti-Magic Bullet didn’t care. It tore through the shields like paper, each layer dissolving under the relentless force.
A piercing scream tore from Mahmud’s throat as the bullet punched through his scales, tore into his chest with brutal momentum. There was a dull, short rending sound.
He was struck as if hit by an invisible, colossal hammer. The impact sent him flying backward.
The alloy core bullet—flying at terrifying speed—spun wildly inside his chest cavity, like a high-speed meat grinder lined with jagged edges and barbs. It shredded muscles, tore through organs, and pulverized internal tissues.
The fragile, vulnerable organs were crushed, torn, and twisted into a hot, viscous, unrecognizable mass.
With a horrifying sssshhhh, a geyser of scalding Blood Plasma erupted from his back, spraying across the charred ground behind him.
The former Evil Dragon Priest collapsed like a torn rag, his body broken beyond recognition.
Steel Tide exhaled smoke from the gun’s muzzle, smirking.
“This bullet’s made for dragons and giant magic constructs. Using it on you? It’s like using a cannon to swat a fly. You should feel honored—death at the hands of this Anti-Magic Armor-Piercing round.”
“Mahmud’s dead!”
“That—those damned Empire bastards—just one rifle shot—killed him!”
The Cultists’ formation collapsed. Panic surged through them. Their last shred of rebellion vanished. They were now nothing more than cattle for the Dragon-Scaled Cultivators to slaughter at will.
Steel Tide stepped forward, severed the ropes binding Baldor with a single slash, and declared:
“Welcome to the Allied Forces.”
Baldor crawled from the blood pool, said nothing, picked up a fallen Cultist’s longsword, and joined the battlefield. The death of his comrades, the humiliation of his people—rage burned in his heart, desperate to be unleashed.
But then—a sudden turn of events.
The pile of meat scraps began to crawl. The filthy, blood-stained liquid in the pool surged toward Mahmud’s “corpse,” flowing like a tide.
Hundreds of Cultist corpses crawled toward him, converging, merging—forming a monstrous, twisted existence centered on the Evil Dragon Priest’s body. The figure stood over ten meters tall, drenched in blood, its body covered in sparse, patchy scales. Dozens of grotesque mouths opened across its flesh, each screaming in unison—a chorus of countless roars.
“For Tiamat.”
“Kill you.”
“Rebels… you will pay the price.”
Even Steel Tide took a step back, stunned. “What the hell is this thing? It’s grotesque—just plain ugly!”
“Not bad… I’ve got an idea,” one of the Cultivators said.
“Stop! Aesthetic standards are grounded in beauty—not in the Underworld!”
“This abomination shouldn’t exist! Brothers—charge! For our eyes! Destroy this ugly monster!”
The Dragon-Scaled Cultivators formed a tight circle, weapons ready—Blast Arrow Rifles, Thermal Melt Guns, Heavy Laser Cannons—Chain Saw Swords, Power Swords, Power Axes all gleaming.
Baldor stared at the Evil Dragon Priest, now encased in flesh at the monster’s heart. His eyes burned with fire. He gripped his sword tightly and spoke to Steel Tide, voice low:
“Fellow Allied Forces… you don’t need to risk yourselves. Mahmud is the core of this abomination. Let me end it. Terminate it all.”
Steel Tide raised a hand, smiling. “Danger? Finally, a decent opponent. Let us have some fun first.”
He grinned fiercely, then roared:
“Fourth Legion—Concentrated Attack! Reduce this gory abomination to ash!”
Boom!
A hissing air burst split the sky. Warped air waves rippled like water, followed by a thunderous explosion.
The Thermal Melt Guns roared, unleashing columns of blinding, spines-like flames. The intense thermal energy melted the monster’s scales instantly, carving massive holes through its distorted body. Flesh turned to charred fragments, molten slag poured from the wounds, and thick smoke rolled from the gaps.
The Dragon Blood Monster’s defenses were torn apart. The twisted faces screamed in agony, their mouths twisted in pain as their bodies burned.
Baldor stood frozen, eyes wide. His sword nearly slipped from his grip.
These Empire soldiers were far beyond anything he’d imagined. What had seemed invincible, monstrous, terrifying—was utterly helpless before the Long Spears and short-range barrages of the Dragon-Scaled Cultivators.
“Is that all?”
“Defense breached. No need to waste fuel. Let’s go melee!”
Steel Tide gave the order. The Cultivators charged forward, roaring, Chain Saw Swords whirling.
The monster roared in fury, spewing fire, lightning, and frost from its multiple mouths—elemental breaths lashing out like a storm.
But the Cultivators held up their shields—round, scaled with Dragon Scales, etched with Imperial Emblems. They held firm against the overwhelming force of the Dragon Breath.
After all, the Imperial Army had captured and slain countless Five-Colored Dragons during their war with the Dragon Worship Church—some over a thousand years old. Their scales were thick, hard, nearly impenetrable.
And as the Empire’s elite特种部队, the Dragon-Scaled Cultivators each carried a Dragon-Scale Shield—some crafted from a single, precious Ancient Dragon Scale. Their defense was legendary.
Working in perfect coordination, the Cultivators advanced, closing the distance.
“Die!”
Steel Tide raised his Chain Saw Sword and brought it down with a brutal slash. The spinning teeth tore through flesh, the blade plunging deep into the monster’s body. It churned wildly, spraying blood and mucus from the deep wound.
“Rebels… submit to me!”
A monstrous head burst from the creature’s torso—gaping, blood-filled, teeth bared, lunging at Steel Tide.
“War狂哥—watch out! I’ll handle it!”
A towering Cultivator leaped high, nearly ten meters into the air. He swung a powered Battle Axe, its blade vibrating at lightning speed. With a thunderous crack, he severed the head clean off.
The head tumbled, rolling across the ground, before being crushed under a boot.
The monster didn’t falter. Its body exploded, splitting into over a hundred heads and limbs, each spewing different types of Dragon Breath—charging the Cultivators with relentless fury.
But they didn’t flinch. Weapons clashed, Chain Saw Swords and Power Swords humming in the air. The Dragon Blood Monster’s limbs and corpses flew in all directions—scenes of brutal, bloody chaos.
Steel Tide blocked a clawed swipe with a single slash. His eyes narrowed. He saw the flaw—the Heart Area where Mahmud was now exposed, unshielded, in the open air.
“Die!”
The Chain Saw Sword shot through the air, its spinning teeth slicing through scales and skin. It pierced Mahmud’s chest, churning violently within his cavity, shredding his organs into pulp.
“Spines!”
A massive rift tore across Mahmud’s chest. Blood Plasma and organ fragments burst out like a ruptured water bag. The ten-meter-tall Dragon Blood Monster collapsed, screaming, its body collapsing into a heap of gore.
On the altar, rivers of blood flowed. Limbs and organs scattered everywhere. The Dragon-Scaled Cultivators stood over the corpse, methodically dissecting the monstrous abomination.
They pressed on, hunting down the remaining Dragon Worship Cultists. Even the most fearsome Half-Dragon Transformation Cultists were helpless before these armored giants—sawed in half without mercy.
Far away, Baldor stood motionless, eyes wide, breathless. He stared at the blood-soaked, heart-stirring scene, whispering:
“This is the strength of the Empire…? Perhaps only a Dragon Bloodline can defeat these heretical dragons. For revenge… I’ll give everything. Even if it means becoming a monster myself.”
After eliminating countless Cultists, the Dragon-Scaled Cultivators reached the altar’s peak. One raised a Loudspeaker, and a powerful voice echoed through the city:
“The Blue Dragon Sect has been annihilated! Kafar City is liberated! You no longer need to be slaves to the Dragon’s Favored, nor sacrificial offerings!”
The small Aerospace Warship emerged from the clouds, hovering arrogantly in the sky, casting a shadow over the city.
The ragged, severely wounded survivors looked up. They stared at the Flying Warship in the sky, listening to the triumphant voice—feeling disbelief, excitement, and confusion.
Had the invincible Dragon Worship Church… really been destroyed?
Long after, when no Cultists or Dragon Beasts appeared, someone finally screamed in joy:
“The Gods! It’s real! The Allied Forces have arrived! Our city is free!”
(End of Chapter)
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