Chapter 64: Black Spirit Death Warrior

Bar’s scythe was long and slender, with a bizarre shape like the forked tongue of a poisonous snake, slicing through the air and leaving a distorted black trail. The scimitar attacking from behind him was large and heavy; the six-foot-long blade resembled the saber teeth of an ancient beast, roaring forward with a violent howl.

The slender scythe and the massive scimitar collided violently. A deep blue glow, like shimmering light on water, flashed briefly on the scythe, while a huge deep green aura surged from the scimitar. As the two deadly blades met, countless sparks flew, and a deafening clang erupted that made eardrums ache.

The black scythe brutally cut into the scimitar, splitting the palm-wide blade nearly in half. Amid the grating sound of metal, Bar’s eyes gleamed with a cold light as he rapidly twisted his hands, spinning the scythe like a windmill.

The burly man who had ambushed Bar with the scimitar grunted. His strength was a grade lower than Bar’s; he was only at the Earth Rank Intermediate Stage, far inferior to Bar, who was at the Heaven Rank Lower Stage. The man’s wrist throbbed with intense pain as the scythe forced the scimitar, his wrist, and his entire arm into a spinning motion.

A series of more than ten cracking sounds echoed as the bones in the man’s arms splintered, his hands still tightly gripping the hilt. Bar let out a cruel, menacing laugh, lightly flicked the scythe, and a thin blade of light flashed, severing both of the man’s arms at the shoulders. Blood sprayed out, and the man roared in agony toward the sky. Just then, a thick beam of light from a distant high-rise swept over, illuminating his body.

He was tall and robust like a lion, with a bald head and dark skin, only the whites of his eyes showing. He was a native of the Black Spirit Continent, the same man who had stood behind Arthur’s sofa in the Green Gem Hotel.

Blood gushed like a spring from the man’s severed arms, but he seemed not to feel the pain. He widened his eyes, a terrifying, peculiar smile spreading across his simple, rugged face. As Bar swung his blade to behead the man, the man suddenly fell backward. His powerful legs, thicker than an average person’s waist, lifted into the air and wrapped around Bar’s waist like two monstrous pythons.

Caught off guard by this strange move, Bar nearly lost his balance from the immense force at his waist. Fortunately, Bar had vast combat experience. He steadied himself with his feet, a deep blue glow swirling around his body, with a faint black aura rising around it. He tensed his waist, preparing to throw the man off.

The man laughed strangely. “I thank my master for saving my life and restoring our honor. For my master, I offer my soul and my flesh, all that I am, solely for the master I serve! Ancestral Spirits, lend your great power to your loyal descendant!”

The bizarre prayer came from the man’s lips, his coarse, hoarse voice carrying an ancient and sinister power. Bar’s expression changed, and he hissed, “Warrior of the Black Spirit Continent, who is worth you burning your soul and life to serve?”

The dark-skinned man could no longer speak. White flames with no heat rose from his skin, and bloody, twisted runes appeared on its surface. Intense light burst from his seven orifices, and an overwhelming will surged from his forehead into his body. The man’s already towering frame, a head taller than Bar, suddenly swelled to twice the size of an ordinary person.

A terrible force transmitted from the man’s legs, and Bar’s waist emitted creaking sounds as his muscles and bones strained under the pressure.

The Black Spirit Continent, the most savage and perilous land in the world, was a territory where Dark Elves, Dark Fairies, and countless monsters ran rampant. Yet, the dark-skinned natives of the Black Spirit Continent thrived there. The most elite among these native warriors were called Ancestral Spirit Warriors; they could awaken the power of their ancestors at the cost of their souls or lifespan, granting them astonishing destructive force.

Any Ancestral Spirit Warrior was a guardian deity of a native tribe, holding high prestige on the Black Spirit Continent. But now Bar had encountered one, and this man had chosen to fully burn his soul and all his remaining lifespan, summoning the most powerful ancestral spirit to possess his body.

Bar felt as if he were a bean under a millstone, his waist about to be crushed. But the immense force from the man’s legs only intensified, and Bar let out a low groan of pain. It was his first time experiencing the dreadful power of an Ancestral Spirit Warrior.

A mere Earth Rank Intermediate Stage warrior could unleash force that completely suppressed a Heaven Rank Lower Stage Knight—such terrifying strength.

Bar was in trouble, with no attention to spare for Ya and Ling, who lay motionless on the ground.

Splashing sounds echoed as over a dozen tall black men emerged from the sea. Their honest eyes brimmed with deep tears, gazing sorrowfully at their comrade whose arms were severed, now burning his soul and lifespan to tightly entwine Bar. The strong, muscular men wept, their tears lost in the seawater.

Silently, they rushed to Ya and Ling’s side. Two men lifted Ya and Ling, covering their small frames with a heavy tower shield, then charged swiftly toward the nearest alley.

The enraged thugs of the Black Tiger Family cursed loudly, quickly reloading their hunting crossbows. Thirty crossbow bolts shot toward the men, while dozens of small double-edged battle axes tore through the air with a howl, carrying death amid the cold wind and snowstorm.

The two black men holding Ya and Ling kept their heads down and charged forward. Four companions in half-armor, wielding three-headed flails, protected them front and back. Like frenzied lions, they broke through the blockade of three or five Black Tiger Family thugs at the alley entrance and plunged into the dark alley. The remaining black men positioned themselves at the rear, using round shields about a foot wide and their battle swords to block the incoming hunting crossbow bolts and thrown axes.

The hunting crossbow bolts tore through their leather round shields and embedded in their bodies.

The axes shattered their swords and sank deep into their chests.

Seven black men stood shoulder to shoulder at the alley entrance, blood spraying from them like fountains, yet not one retreated.

Their eyes fixed on the man burning his soul and life, wreathed in white soul flames. Suddenly, all seven burst into song, their bodies also emitting white soul fire. They sang a primitive, rustic war chant, starkly different from those of the Western Continent, and charged toward the Black Tiger Family warriors with joyful, heroic strides.

Lin Qi’s expression shifted. He grabbed a hunting crossbow, raised it, and a bolt pierced the temple of the man entangled with Bar.

“Retreat! When these warriors of the Black Spirit Continent burn their souls, even the Gods must step back temporarily. We retreat!”

Handing the hunting crossbow to a subordinate, Lin Qi placed his right hand over his heart, bowed deeply and respectfully to the seven men burning their souls, then quickly retreated into the darkness of the port.