98: Chapter 98 Divine Arts and Techniques

Refugees fleeing from Wangjia Village and Sun Family Village trickled into the temple one after another.

Some knelt on the futons, while others stood waiting at the entrance.

Holding incense sticks, their worshiping movements were clumsy, and the sound of their knees hitting the floor was heavy.

Village Chief Sun Mancang knelt at the very front, holding three sticks of incense tightly in his hand. Ash fell onto the back of his hand, burning him slightly, but he did not move.

Village Chief Wang Deshun held a child. The child squirmed in his arms, reaching out with little hands toward the smoke from the incense burner, but was gently held back by him.

The remaining refugees also offered incense one by one.

[incense points +1]

[incense points +1]

[incense points +1]

...

Looking at the unbroken stream of pop-ups saying [incense points +1], Qin Ling blinked.

Obviously, these fleeing refugees were not very devout toward him; many who offered incense did not even provide him with incense points.

These refugees did not believe in him as a deity.

However, Qin Ling was not too surprised by this.

In times like these, disbelief in gods was the norm, as they had never received divine protection before.

Naturally, he would not blame these refugees for it.

As soon as darkness fell, the refugees who had fled from Wangjia Village and Sun Family Village began to feel restless.

Although they had heard many tales of miracles about Lord Qinling from the villagers of Qin Family Village during the day,

those words vanished from their minds as soon as night fell.

Replacing them were memories of the previous night—

the images of their entire village being completely destroyed by roots sprouting from underground, and the agonizing screams of villagers in the dark.

Village Chief Sun Mancang sat on the steps of a building, clutching a wooden stick in his hand.

He didn't go inside; it was too stuffy and narrow, far too reminiscent of the place he had fled from last night.

Village Chief Wang Deshun held his child, leaning against the base of the courtyard wall.

The child had fallen asleep, little face pressed against his chest, breathing softly.

He wasn't sleeping; his eyes were fixed on the ground, staring at the gaps between the flagstones turned pale by the moonlight.

His ears were pricked, listening to the sounds in the wind.

The wind blew from the seaside, making the leaves of the Old Locust Tree rustle.

With every rustle, his heart tightened, relaxed, and then tightened again.

He lowered his head and looked at the child in his arms.

The child slept soundly, small mouth slightly open with a trail of drool hanging from the corner.

He reached out to wipe away the drool and pulled the child a bit closer.

No one spoke in the courtyard.

The refugees huddled in twos and threes in corners and on steps, some leaning against walls, others squatting on the ground.

The night grew deep.

Those refugees who couldn't hold out any longer finally closed their eyes.

Village Chief Wang Deshun's wife leaned against the doorframe, still holding a child in her arms.

Her head nodded continuously until it finally slouched sideways against the doorframe, falling asleep.

Village Chief Wang Deshun did not sleep, leaning against the base of the courtyard wall.

His eyelids felt heavy, as if weighed down by lead sinkers, but he didn't dare close them.

He feared that the moment he closed his eyes, those things would burst out from underground.

Village Chief Sun Mancang didn't sleep either; he squatted on the threshold, propping his chin up with his hand.

Right around midnight, Village Chief Sun Mancang suddenly heard a movement beneath the dirt.

His ears perked up instantly. Dark red moonlight shone on the courtyard flagstones, where something was pushing upward.

Village Chief Wang Deshun heard it too. His pupils contracted sharply, and his grip on the wooden stick creaked.

He saw a pitch-black, slender root push open a flagstone and emerge, writhing in the moonlight.

Then came a second, a third, a fourth.

They burst out from every corner of the courtyard, writhing as if trying to grab onto something.

Village Chief Wang Deshun immediately shouted at the top of his lungs.

"They're here! They're coming again!"

His voice shattered the silent night.

Those who were asleep were jolted awake, opening their eyes to see the roots bursting out from underground.

These pitch-black roots writhed in the dark red moonlight.

Seeing this scene, the refugees' faces turned pale in an instant.

Blood drained from their faces, and their lips turned gray.

Some collapsed on the ground, some backed away, some huddled in corners holding children, and others closed their eyes.

They thought the horrors of last night were repeating—that those roots would wrap around their ankles and drag them underground;

that those black flowers would bloom upon their bodies, turning them into monsters;

that they would die in this darkness just like the rest of their village.

They had run all night to escape here, thinking a god resided here, thinking they could survive.

But where was the god?

The temple was right there, the statue was right there, the incense was still burning—so where was the god?

At this moment, despair was written across the faces of the refugees.

Right at that moment, a beam of golden light burst forth from the temple in the center of the village.

The golden light surged out of the temple gates and shot into the night sky, hovering above Qin Family Village, illuminating the entire village like daylight.

The roots squirmed in the golden light and then slowly retreated, as if forced back by something.

They were trying to shrink back into the ground!

The refugees tilted their heads up, staring at the golden light hovering in midair.

The golden light made their eyes sting, but not a single person closed their eyes.

Qin Ling hung in midair, his divine sense locking onto the fleeing roots and tracking the direction of their retreat.

And he had no intention of letting them leave.

These roots had long been coveting Qin Family Village; how could he allow them to come and go as they pleased?

He raised his right hand, loosely curling his five fingers.

A sword condensed in his palm—not solid matter, but light: golden, intensely concentrated light.

Seven fiendish runes lit up one after another, each brighter and heavier than the last. By the time the seventh lit up, the entire sword was trembling.

Divine Technique: Seven-Kill Demon-Slaying Sword!

He had used it many times, but this time was different.

He added something else to the sword.

He raised his left hand, and a ball of golden light lit up in his palm—not a violent golden light, but a warm and gentle glow.

Divine Technique: Exorcism!

Recently, he had been studying how to make his offensive divine techniques deal even greater damage to evil spirits.

After all, moves formed purely from divine power couldn't cause sufficiently effective damage to evil spirits.

While Divine Technique: Exorcism could cause effective damage to evil spirits, its offensive capability was limited.

So, Qin Ling came up with a solution.

Namely, combining techniques.

Fusing Divine Technique: Exorcism with Divine Technique: Seven-Kill Demon-Slaying Sword!

He pressed the golden light from his left hand into the sword in his right hand.

He poured the divine power of Exorcism like water into the blade of the Seven-Kill Demon-Slaying Sword.

The sword blade trembled, then shone even brighter—blindingly bright, so bright that even the seven fiendish runes became indistinct.

All that remained was a ball of blazing white light ready to explode at any moment.

This was something he had recently researched: fusing two divine techniques together.

Letting the Demon-Slaying Sword carry the power of Exorcism to slash into the evil spirit's body and ignite from within.

He hadn't tried it yet and didn't know if it would succeed, but today he wanted to give it a try!

Qin Ling looked toward the large holes left on the ground by those pitch-black roots, his face turning cold.

They were the ones!