Trying To Tame An Evil Overlord - Chapter 131 Oh, Father!

The Fallen Gods were thinning, but the same could be said for the cultivator’s side.

Chen Gaoyong kept his expression calm as anxiety was brewing a storm in his mind.

Where was the Ivory Sword Saint? Why hadn’t he defeated the puppeteer yet to relieve them of this onslaught? Cries of battle, death and horror sang together in the song of war. There was no respite.

Two Fallen Gods stood before him, tall and monumental, their faces eerily still. And when they moved they seemed almost sluggish, their limbs dragging behind their large dark bodies.

When they struck that sluggishness evaporated.

Chen Gaoyong jumped, narrowly avoiding an arm that shot at him and embedded itself in the ground. He landed on its log-like arm and ran with a ring of talismans floating around in three spiraling whirls. They wound around the monster like a sentient rope, an elongated serpent. Artillery fire rained down; spells and arrows decorated the skies.

When Sect Leader Chen drew his blade to sever the monstrosity’s neck, another hand came at him from the corner of his sight. He jumped back, dodging the blow.

Impatient, Chen Gaoyong itched to call for reinforcements.

Not his daughter! No, he wouldn’t dare.

But those women that milled about back in the manor, surely some of them could spare their lives for the cause.

And so he did, only to realize with horror that the communication spell had dispersed. Chen Gaoyong’s head reared up, eyes snapping toward the manor that sat beyond the hilltop within Reling’s walls. His heart raced in his ears, and the sound of battle suddenly became distant.

All he saw was the little flickers of light that decorated his Ascending Dawn Manor and there, behind it, was a thin rising of smoke.

He instantly assumed the worst.

“Sect Leader Chen!” Someone bellowed for his attention.

Fools. Chen Gaoyong was not born yesterday and could feel the air part as a dark blue fist came slamming downward. Two of his disciples raced up to restrain the foul creature; one of them paid for it with his life. The Fallen God shuffled forward, its knee coming up with enough speed to sever the young man’s head.

Blood splayed, the air saturated with an iron scent. Chen Gaoyong was possessed with the desire to flee. And when he caught sight of figures in the distance that approached from behind enemy lines, he did precisely that.

Chen Gaoyong turned tails, fleeing from the front lines even as he was called; another person losing their life in that split moment, their attention caught on the fleeing sect leader and not the enemy’s inhuman movements.

…

Liu Sumeng could not understand what his eyes were seeing.

How…how were the Fallen Gods still moving!? Without the puppet master, then surely they should be robbed of their purpose and turn still unless provoked. How?

Horror, disappointment and shame knifed him. He forced his legs faster, dashing against the howling wind.

“Sumeng!” Yuan Xuelan ran after his beloved, worried as he headed undaunted by the tall towering horrors.

But Liu Sumeng could take care of himself. He should be more worried about that stupid girl that aimed her talismans wrong and fell backward in retreat. Cursing, Yuan Xuelan dodged a giant heel that came his way, circling to avoid the Fallen Gods that chased him.

Silei raised. A hurricane of divine fire danced off his blade’s tip, burning away the darkness of night. Sparks fluttered around him like fireflies, heat licking his face.

A battle cry wretched from his throat as he unleashed his attack at the Fallen God. It was aimed at the monstrosity’s side where a spear was wedged in its torso.

The spear went up in flames. An orange light leaked out of the Fallen God’s wounds as it staggered toward him.

Liu Sumeng, who had dealt with the fiend in front of him, circled back. Talismans swirled and caught fire when it settled on the Yuan Xuelan’s foe. In a blink of an eye, Mingshui’s silver edge shined in an arc slicing clean through. The flames within the Fallen God bubbled.

“Take cover!” Yuan Xuelan called but did not rush over; shielding his face from the blast as it came. A loud boom. Liu Sumeng rolled out of the way. They shared a look across the field of battle.

Yuan Xuelan’s expression was strained, the knuckles that circled Silei’s hilt pale.

But Liu Sumeng gave him a smile, a nod.

‘Thank you,’ it seemed to say, ‘for trusting me. And I trust you.’

The battle was still upon the lands, and Chen Gaoyong was nowhere in sight, no doubt having fled to check up on his daughter after the communication spell had broken.

This was far from what their original plans intended, but all was not yet lost. There were only a few more Fallen Gods that dotted the horizon and if both Yuan Xuelan and Liu Sumeng could expend their powers and strengths, then perhaps there was yet hope.

Something in the sky caught Yuan Xuelan’s sight. A silver string.

“Sumeng, look!” He called, pointing up.

When the Ivory Sword Saint tilted his head up to see the light he knew it was the tell from Chen Gaoyong’s spell. The string that once led them to Bai Qiaoying who wore the butterfly mask was now leading toward the manor.

The real puppeteer perhaps.

Liu Sumeng itched to follow it.

While he trusted Yuan Xuelan, the same trust could not be given to the Sect Leader that so readily fled front lines without a moment’s notice.

If only there were a way to set up communications again and find out what was going on…

He turned to Yuan Xuelan, “Do you think you can…”

His sentence was not yet finished, but somehow the younger had understood, “I’m not sure if my spell can reach that far but… I’ll try.” Yuan Xuelan took a step back, allowing the Ivory Sword Saint to act as his cover. His eyes closed as he raised his palm. A red light grew from within his closed fist, pulsing with life.

Eyes and fist snapped open. Three butterflies fluttered out; their tiny wings slaved to fight the raging gust of winds. Yuan Xuelan’s mind strained as he struggled to control them.

‘Rude-boy, did you forget about this divine one?’

Yuan Xuelan startled, “You–”

‘Leave this to me. However, it will require a fraction of your power, so please do learn restraint.’

“Fine, fine. Just do what you have to, okay?”

‘Remember to speak to me respectably! Hmph. No matter, I shall allow you off this time. No dallying. Go fight at your beloved’s side.’

“Don’t need to tell me twice!” Yuan Xuelan was eager to jump back into the fray, breaking out into a dash toward the monster that the Ivory Sword Saint fought. The fire in his body seemed to burn a bit more distant, inaccessible.

It was thus that he could no longer carelessly use his power. Cursing, Yuan Xuelan halted, but a little slow. A Fallen God was coming toward him, and he hadn’t raised Silei in defence. With a flick of his wrist, there was a stream of talismans came forth, halting the creature by just a little.

Liu Sumeng was quick to catch on, twirling on his heel to cut into the fist now coated with flapping paper. A dark viscous fluid flowed out.

Embarrassed, Yuan Xuelan lowered his head a little, “Sorry, I’m going to rely on Sumeng for a bit.”

“Alright.” That was something that the Ivory Sword Saint did not mind at all.

…

Chen Gaoyong’s heart was drenched with stifling fear. Horror gripped him when he approached the manor. There was silence from the inside and the walls behind the manor as well.

But there was an echo, far off. Cries of beasts and a smog of energy, familiar, unlike the oppressive force emitted from the Fallen Gods. No, he knew this aura. It was demonic.

Still distant, he told himself, as he ignored the thudding sounds against the northern gates. He was dashing through cobbled roads and headed straight to the manor.

Silence greeted him there. The gate did not open at his command.

No…

What could have happened?

There was the scent of iron in the air; perhaps the wind brought the hint of battle all the way here? He ignored the echoes of war cries from the distance, those that he abandoned. The only thing, the only person that Chen Gaoyong cared for, was his precious baby daughter…

The daughter that he wronged since her birth.

He knocked the gates open, lock splintering at the force of his fist.

Chen Gaoyong rushed inside the quiet manor.

This was normal, too, surely. Most of the disciples had gone out to the front lines. Or to guard the garrison where the citizens had fled to take shelter. So surely…

His footfalls echoed, Chen Gaoyong gathered his wits to yell, “Anyue! Answer me! Where are you?”

Wasting no time, he went toward the main hall where the array for the communication spell was supposed to be held. The sight he came upon struck him with lead-heavy dread.

No…

The servants and female cultivators lied on the cold floor. The array upon the floor was blurred with their blood. Still fresh, wet and squelching under his boots; the massacre that had taken place was not long ago.

Sect Leader Chen did not bother to check for life and instead was only frantically searching for his jewel. He circled the pillars checking each face. They’d all been cleanly stabbed through the heart with a blade. Short. Faces tranquil as though asleep in the moment of death. A feel locked in pain, but only slightly in discomfort, not twisted agony of a dying breath.

The only exception was one elder, her eyes were open, face twisted in agony and despair. She was lying on her front, drenched in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes pointed down a hall, the lights of which had been dimmed.

Chen Anyue was not among these corpses, and Chen Gaoyong had no desire to stay among them. He dashed down the hallway. Each footfall was heavy, dread echoing him like a beast at his heels, impossible to shake off.

His study was down this way. There was light coming from there, chasing the darkness that prevailed in the hallway. There was a gentle rustling of pages. Something like wooden panels being moved.

“Anyue-!”

He recognized her right away, even with her back turned to him. The soft rosy silk of her dress was something he had given her for her eighteenth winter. It was dotted with blood, the thin fabric flowed with her movements, dainty and small.

She was quiet, her back still turned. Chen Gaoyong was hardly paying attention to his study. It did not alarm him that his desk was pushed aside, and the shelves were parted to reveal another set of shelves hidden behind, bound by a spell that theoretically should be only broken by the person bearing the title of Sect Leader.

There was only relief that rushed through Chen Gaoyong’s veins. He rushed up to her, a heavy hand coming down on her thin shoulder. Her perfume was strong and unladylike but now was not a time to chastise her.

“You’re safe– I- For a moment I thought…”

Chen Anyue jolted, wide gray eyes stared up at him, blinking innocently. “Oh, Father!”