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墨書 Inktalez
Zheng Ying's face turned red and then pale in succession. At this moment, no one was blocking his way; the soldier holding the gun had long since disappeared into the darkness. However, his feet felt as if they were nailed to the ground, unable to move at all.
He really didn't dare to look at what was happening where the sound was coming from.
Earlier, he wanted to go out of frustration, driven by a surge of emotions. But now that he was stopped, that anger had long dissipated. The sounds coming from ahead grew more urgent and more mournful, each one resonating deep within him, stirring his soul.
He looked toward the source of the sound, but it was pitch black and nothing could be seen. A chill ran down his spine as goosebumps erupted all over him; how could he dare to approach?
"Well... since it's inconvenient to go, I guess I won't go after all."
Zheng Ying forced a smile and retreated awkwardly.
"Hmph!"
Fang Miao snorted coldly, no longer looking at Zheng Ying, instead murmuring to himself:
"What is going on now?"
Aside from the Ancient Sorcerer, no one knew what was happening at that moment, and he was not feeling any ease either.
His left hand, gripping the torch, had exhausted all its strength, and his arm was drenched in sweat. It was not easy for anyone to maintain the same posture for twenty minutes, let alone what the Ancient Sorcerer had to do. If it weren't for his strong willpower, he would have likely given up by now.
"Wah wah wah~~~~"
The sound made by the Scarecrow grew louder and more mournful, reaching a deafening level. At the same time, the Scarecrow trembled violently; strangely enough, no straw fell from its body despite its shaking!
Fixing his gaze on the Scarecrow, the Ancient Sorcerer suddenly let out a loud "Ah!" The torch in his left hand plunged into the ground with a whoosh while his right hand raised the Purple Blade and swung it fiercely toward the Scarecrow!
"Hmph! You won't get away!"
In the distance, the old man sitting on the ground suddenly opened his eyes wide, pressing his right hand fiercely against the Skull in front of him. The incantation in his mouth became more urgent, like a raging storm.
The Scarecrow was the key to the entire sorcery; if the Ancient Sorcerer broke it, everything would be over!
The eyes of the Skull ignited in an instant, burning like oil poured onto a fire, shooting forward in the darkness like two small knives!
Blood slowly oozed from his nostrils, but at this moment, the old man could no longer care. If he had previously underestimated the Ancient Sorcerer, he was now regretting how he had looked down on his opponent, even feeling fear.
However, at this point, there was no turning back.
He bit his tongue hard, spitting a mouthful of fresh blood onto the Skull. In an instant, the originally Azure Blue Skull turned bright red, as if soaked in blood, gradually becoming transparent. Within it, a picture slowly became visible: in the distance, a Small Grove where a Scarecrow hung from a branch, and the Ancient Sorcerer was leaping high with a blade raised to strike at the Scarecrow.
"Bang!"
The Ancient Sorcerer's blade struck down hard on the Scarecrow. He exerted all his strength, and given the weight of the Machete, the force of this blow was unimaginable. Yet even so, when it struck the Scarecrow, it produced a metallic sound as if he had struck iron!
"Whoosh~~~"
Exhaling a breath of foul air, the Ancient Sorcerer looked up at the Scarecrow, realizing that not only had he failed to sever it, but not even a single straw had fallen.
A Machete forged from steel could not harm a Scarecrow made of straw; this defied logic, yet the Ancient Sorcerer found nothing strange about it.
After adjusting his breathing, he jumped again, each leap fueled by all his strength aimed at striking down on the Scarecrow.
In narrow paths where brave men meet, victory belongs to those who dare; he had learned this long ago during his time in the army. Clearly, this Scarecrow was empowered by its opponent's sorcery. Faced with such a situation, there was no choice but to confront it head-on and see who was truly stronger.
"Bang bang bang!"
In the quiet of the night, the sounds of Machete and Scarecrow clashing grew louder and more urgent.
The pain in the web of his right hand came in waves, followed by a sticky sensation. Ancient Sorcerer knew that his hand must have split open.
Yet, as if it were not his own hand, Ancient Sorcerer continued to strike again and again, each blow landing harder on Scarecrow.
The eighteen Scarecrows planted in the ground were burning brighter than ever, almost as if they were surrounding Ancient Sorcerer entirely.
At that moment, the swinging Machete seemed to act like a magnet, drawing the flames from the eighteen torches towards it, forming an enormous fiery blade that struck down on Scarecrow. With each swing, countless sparks erupted.
For a moment, it felt like a light shower of tiny meteors was falling.
“Wow~~~~ Wow~~~ Wow~~~”
Suddenly, Scarecrow began to scream in agony.
“Eh!”
A surge of joy filled Ancient Sorcerer's heart as he noticed that the resistance when striking Scarecrow had lessened significantly, as if he could cut deeper.
Soon, Ancient Sorcerer realized his feelings were correct; the Machete was indeed penetrating Scarecrow: a trickle of foul blood flowed from within Scarecrow, clearly visible in the firelight.
The foul blood flowed more abundantly, splattering everywhere with each swing of the Machete, many droplets landing directly on Ancient Sorcerer's face and body!
“Wow wow wow~~~”
Scarecrow shook wildly, resembling a stroke victim, and strands of straw began to fall away. As they dropped, they ignited from the flames carried by the Machete, catching fire.
Foul stench!
A wave of nauseating odor spread through the air, reminiscent of a rotting corpse. This was caused by the tainted blood from the Martians and the Scarecrow colliding and igniting together.
"Hmph! Let's see what else you have!"
The Ancient Sorcerer snorted coldly, exerting more force with his right hand. The flames on the Machete grew larger, resembling a gigantic fan. The temperature around him suddenly soared, vaporizing all the tainted blood that had dripped from the Scarecrow, intensifying the foul smell to the point of making one gag.
"Slice!"
The Machete struck the lower part of the Scarecrow, severing its legs. The Scarecrow let out a frenzied scream, as if it were alive, echoing far and wide.
Following this, a torrent of tainted blood gushed forth like a fountain, spraying directly toward the Ancient Sorcerer's face.
"Damn!"
He hadn't expected such a turn of events, but he knew he couldn't let the tainted blood touch him. He quickly retracted the Machete and held it horizontally in front of him.
"Screech!"
The tainted blood splattered against the Machete, releasing an odor reminiscent of burnt flesh.
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