Chapter 74: The Invasion of Demons and Monsters

"His eyes are two crimson stars in the sky, his body like a mountain, his breath stirring the winds, his roar thundering! The warrior of the Thunder Clan, wielding the Godslayer Blade, unfurled radiant white wings behind him and cleaved the Demon King in two! But the Demon King did not fall!..."

"And then!..." She stretched out her demonic claws, sweeping past the cowering girls, making them shriek and huddle together.

"The Demon King suddenly unleashed all his power, darkness spread across the land! Forests withered, rivers dried up, the earth cracked open... He laughed wildly—ha, ha, ha, ha—foolish humans, even if you destroy my body, you cannot erase my resentment! Five thousand years from now, I will be reborn and once again drown this continent in blood! You shall taste suffering and fear! Thus... for five thousand years, the Demon King's resentment has lingered above the battlefield..."

As Ling Xiaolei recounted this far, she inexplicably felt a touch of melancholy.

"Ah..." one girl yawned, "I'm tired, let's go back to sleep. See you tomorrow."

The girls clutched their blankets and returned to their respective dorms. Even Shen Zhaiguo was already sleeping peacefully beside her, her round face sweet and serene. Only Ling Xiaolei remained sitting on the bed, lost in thought, clutching a book titled "Legend of the Demon King," still immersed in the ancient battlefield of blades and bloodshed.

The next day, it was nearly noon when Blackfeather finally stirred, rubbing his head as he awoke in a narrow, deserted alley.

His mind was clouded, his body sprawled in a heap of discarded things, his legs sticking out from a battered cardboard box, arms thrown carelessly aside, his clothes soaked through by the damp rain, his heavy black wings cushioning him from below.

He rose from the ground. The violent tremors of the earth had ceased since last night, and the sky had returned to its usual calm. Pools of water filled every hollow in the streets, which bore the scars of howling winds and raging storms. Broken tiles and gravel covered the ground.

He walked to the roadside, feeling exhausted, his dark wings still dragging behind him, unable to fold away. Just as he lifted his face, a flyer was blown by the wind and slapped against him. He grabbed it and threw it aside in irritation.

"How did I end up in a place like this..."

His mind was muddled; the dreams of last night were already fading. He vaguely recalled seeing a volcano erupting silently in the darkness.

The city guard patrols left behind in the Holy City were moving street by street, sounding urgent warnings:

"Hey, don't go outside the city for now! Doomsday Volcano erupted last night, lava destroyed the northern Great Wall, a massive horde of fiends has invaded from the borders, and even the central continent's border has reported infiltrating fiends—the nearby forests are unsafe!"

"Doomsday Volcano erupted yesterday?..."

Blackfeather was still at a loss, as if he alone had not heard this world-shaking news.

The mention of the volcano made his head spin again; images of the volcano from his dream flashed before his eyes, and beneath it, it seemed there was a sword.

"Why did I also see the volcano in my dream?..."

But he didn't dwell on it. He returned home first, took a shower, and changed into clean clothes. His father, Yisheng, had not returned—perhaps he was still in the Divine Realm or had gone straight to the northern Great Wall to help.

After a simple meal, he stepped outside. Noting the time, he guessed that Teacher Shi was probably leading everyone in magic training outside the city by now, so he headed straight for the forest beyond the gates.

Along the streets, shop signs and flagpoles leaned at odd angles, battered by the storm as if a calamity had swept through. People were patching up broken tiles on their rooftops, the ground was a shambles, littered with snapped branches and debris.

Above, the sky was still shrouded in gloomy clouds. As he left the city gate, a cool wind blew from the forest, carrying with it strange, faint noises:

"Hiss... hiss..."

They sounded eerily like the whispers of fiends.

Not far from the city on a small path, a crowd of villagers was gathered around a silver-haired man in white. By the roadside stood a humble pharmacy, its thatched roof even more dilapidated after the rain.

"Please, save my child," pleaded several women, clutching their wounded children, their voices choked with tears. Among them was the plump woman who had once chased Blackfeather over the vegetable patch incident.

Blackfeather immediately recognized Bai Shengye. Bai Shengye shook off the crowd and said resignedly,

"Alright, alright, I heard you. The medicine I've given you might not help; there is still no effective cure for fiendish infection on the continent. I'll come every day to deliver new medicine, but whether they recover depends on fate."

Carrying his medicine chest, Bai Shengye walked away without a backward glance.

Blackfeather met him on the path. "What's happened? Someone in the nearby village has been infected by fiends?"

Bai Shengye muttered,

"I didn't expect the fiends to move so quickly. In just one night, so many villages in the central continent have been attacked. Once the fiends cross the border, such outbreaks are countless..."

"Is there no cure?"

Bai Shengye shook his head. "If the infection is shallow, it can be dispelled; if it's too deep, there's nothing to be done but leave it to fate."

The mothers wiped their tears. Blackfeather stepped forward to look at the child in the plump woman's arms. From the chest to the shoulder, three deep gashes marred the flesh—carved by a fiend's claws. Though smeared with herbs, the wounds were still ghastly.

The woman, in no mood for sympathy, turned and went back into the pharmacy. By the window sat an elderly doctor with a beard flecked with white, grinding herbs according to Bai Shengye's prescriptions.

On a wooden bed in the corner, several gravely injured children lay. The woman laid her child among them and covered him with a quilt. The boy’s cheeks were burning, sweat beading on his brow as he drifted in a feverish sleep.

Blackfeather stepped quietly into the room. Seeing the woman still weeping at the bedside, he did not disturb her. He gently lifted a corner of the blanket from another child—the wound was even worse, as if a canine fiend had bitten through the shoulder, tearing flesh from bone.

Above their wounds, a faint black mist wafted. Where the mist touched, even the herbal powders were slowly melting away.

"So this is the result of being infected by darkness..."

Blackfeather thought again of Xiaoyu, and pain pierced his heart.

"I have darkness in me as well, yet I remain unharmed. Is there truly no way to save them..."

With this thought, he quietly extended his right palm near the blanket. The seal in his palm began to glow, and the black mist was drawn toward his hand, slowly absorbed into the deep red birthmark at the center.