A hundred corpse patchwork lunged at him. Mu Tianyou swung his sword instinctively, splitting it in two.
The rotting body burst open, spilling out mangled flesh and organs—some human, some animal. A dark, messy lump landed at his feet.
Mu Tianyou looked down, and it felt as if he had been struck by lightning.
It was a head that had not yet fully decomposed, its features still vaguely recognizable.
The eyes, the bridge of the nose, the lips, and even that tiny mole at the corner of the mouth.
It was his Empress Mother—his mother, who had been missing for months.
A few days before the plague broke out, she had vanished. He had searched for her for months, scouring the entire Royal Capital and questioning every living soul, but he could never find any trace of her.
It turned out she was here, inside the body of a monster.
“Empress Mother...” Mu Tianyou’s voice trembled. “Empress Mother... how... how could you be here...”
The head did not answer; of course, it never would.
She was dead, and she had been dead for a long time.
Mu Tianyou cradled the head, his entire body shaking.
He wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. An Iron-Blooded Monarch was not allowed to show weakness, and besides, his tears had long since run dry.
But then, he heard a burst of laughter—light and indifferent, like the wind blowing through a bamboo forest.
Mu Tianyou looked up and saw a middle-aged man standing behind the swarm of hundred corpse patchworks.
He wore a green robe and held a folding fan, a gentle smile playing on his face.
Mu Tianyou recognized him. This was the man who had stood upon the sacrificial altar and bestowed the divine light upon him.
“You—” Mu Tianyou’s voice was hoarse. “You!”
Wan Xiu fanned himself, looking at him with a smile. “I trust you have been well? As expected of someone Lord Qing Lu took an interest in, you are indeed tenacious.”
Mu Tianyou set the head down, stood up, and tightened his grip on his sword hilt.
“Did you do this?” he asked, each word heavy with rage. “Was all of this your doing?”
Wan Xiu tilted his head. “What a thing for Your Majesty to say. What exactly have I done?”
“The plague! The hundred corpse patchworks! And—” Mu Tianyou looked at the head on the ground. “And the people of my Jiao Mu!”
Wan Xiu chuckled. “Oh, you mean those.”
He folded his fan and tapped it gently against his palm.
“Your Majesty should not wrong a good man. The plague is a natural disaster, and the hundred corpse patchworks are merely the result of the giant snake’s rotting corpse. As for your Empress Mother...” He paused. “She was simply unlucky enough to catch the plague.”
“Bullshit!” Mu Tianyou roared. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me from the very beginning!”
Wan Xiu sighed, looking helpless, then shook his head. “Your Majesty, you cannot say such things. Has the strange fire of Tianchi Province not been extinguished?”
“Lord Qing Lu granted your father’s request, and he granted yours as well. Has everything not been completed now?”
“As for what followed, what does that have to do with us?”
“One must lose something to gain something. A few insignificant costs as a bargaining chip for Lord Qing Lu’s intervention—it was a bargain, was it not?”
Wan Xiu fanned himself, saying cheerfully, “Your Majesty, do you not know that it is easy to invite a god, but hard to send one away?”
“Lord Qing Lu is very satisfied with the current state of Tianchi Province. This is exactly what he needs.”
“You—” Mu Tianyou’s eyes were nearly splitting with rage. “You animals!”
He gripped his sword and charged at Wan Xiu.
But before he could cover more than a few steps, he was blocked by the hundred corpse patchworks. They surged from all directions, surrounding him completely.
Mu Tianyou swung his sword frantically, strike after strike, hacking one monster after another into pieces.
But there were too many; they were endless.
His physical strength was depleting rapidly, and the wounds on his body grew more numerous. The ghostly light flared again and again, and from behind him, screams echoed repeatedly.
He knew that every time the light shone, another one of his people died.
But he could not stop. If he stopped, he would suffer even worse injuries, more people would die, and he might even perish himself.
There were at least three hundred people left in the city. If he died, those three hundred would truly have no hope left.
He had to live. Even if it was only for one more moment, he had to kill one more monster.
“You people!” Mu Tianyou roared as he slashed through the horde. “What do you take us for?!”
Wan Xiu stood behind the swarm, fanning himself as if watching a play.
“What for? As materials, I suppose.”
Wan Xiu smiled. “Your Majesty, you are still too young. In this world, there is no absolute right or wrong. It is simply a matter of everyone taking what they need.”
“Lord Qing Lu needed materials, and your Jiao Mu Kingdom needed to extinguish the strange fire. Was this not a trade?”
“You were never in a position to negotiate terms. If you are willing, that is for the best. If you are not, it does not matter.”
“The result remains the same either way.”
As Wan Xiu finished speaking, he stood protected within the thick layers of hundred corpse patchworks, while Mu Tianyou stood alone amidst a pile of corpses, facing a literal tide of monsters.
He could no longer swing his sword.
The blade was too heavy, his arms were too sore, and his body was covered in too many wounds. The ghostly blue divine light flickered on his body like a lamp about to run out of oil.
With every flicker, a scream came from behind him.
He knew another person had died.
Killed because of him.
The veteran at the city gate had already fallen, his body pierced by the severed arms of three hundred corpse patchworks, a piece of rotting meat still clenched between his teeth.
The hunter was dead too, torn to shreds and scattered at the foot of the wall. His woodcutting knife was still lodged in the head of a hundred corpse patchwork, unable to be pulled out.
The woman holding the child was gone as well, dissolved into pus, leaving behind nothing but a pile of tattered clothes.
At the base of the wall, only a young child remained, fast asleep.
Mu Tianyou did not know how the child could sleep. While the world outside was being turned upside down, he was actually sleeping so deeply.
Perhaps it was because he was too small to understand fear.
Perhaps it was because he was too exhausted—so tired that he didn't even have the strength left to be afraid.
Mu Tianyou glanced at him, then turned back to face the surging hundred corpse patchworks.
He had already lost count of how many he had killed.
Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Fifty thousand?
He couldn't remember.
He only knew that for every one he killed, more surged forward like a tide, never-ending.
The ghostly light flickered once more, but this time, there was no scream from behind him.
Mu Tianyou froze and looked back.
At the city gate, there were no living people left.
The fifty or sixty people who still had the strength to defend the city together were all dead. Not a single one remained.
His sword was bitten by a hundred corpse patchwork and he couldn't pull it out; his hand was bitten, and he couldn't move it; his leg was bitten, and he couldn't stand.
Mu Tianyou collapsed to the ground, staring up at the gray, murky sky.
The hundred corpse patchworks tore at him, but he could no longer feel the pain.
He looked at the sky, and suddenly remembered the eyes of the red-banded giant snake just before it died.
Grief, chaos, liberation, and peace.
“So... that’s how it is...” Mu Tianyou murmured.
“It turns out you were also waiting for this day—waiting for someone who could end all of this.”
The hundred corpse patchworks swarmed over him, biting his legs, his waist, and his arms.
Intense pain flared, and the ghostly light flickered.
Rate on N.U.
