ATPnovel Chapter 1132: The Beast That Licks Its Wounds
Chapter 1132: The Beast That Licks Its Wounds
The series of battles jointly waged by the Demon Race and the Investigation Bureau had already yielded gratifying results. Over the past five years, not only had a huge amount of lost territory been reclaimed, but even the Disaster Legion’s siege of the Holy City had ended in failure. With the passage connecting the Holy City to the outside world reopened, the Demon Race had been focusing on expanding the territory around this crucial route. Both sides had been locked in a repeated tug-of-war over this gap. Without Red Disaster’s blessing, and facing demons who saw hope and thus fought to the death, fearless of sacrifice, the Disaster Legion had never again been able to fully hold this territory.The turnaround in the overall war had already crushed the Blood Slaughter Army’s morale, and the disastrous defeat at the Sword Discussion Conference was undoubtedly adding insult to injury. Through this tournament, the Blood Slaughter side got a much clearer understanding of the strength of each plane. On top of that, in recent days the Demon Race had formed a marriage alliance with the Magic Plane, and the reinforcements from the Magic Plane had already arrived first at the Hell Plane, while reinforcements from other planes were gathering. Rumors that the final punitive war against the Blood Slaughter was about to break out were raging everywhere. This forced those traitors from various planes who had secretly chosen to side with Blood Slaughter to start worrying about their own future, quietly questioning whether their original choice had been correct—whether they should still continue walking with Blood Slaughter at this point, and if they chose to return to their former masters, whether they could buy their way out of punishment by selling out Blood Slaughter.
As for this restless, anxious mood surging among the mid-to-high-level Plane Cultivators who were not native to the original Blood Slaughter Plane, the true core of Blood Slaughter did not take it to heart. For the great war that was about to begin, they had more important tasks to do.
"Ugh—ah—ugh—ugh—ah!"
A shrill, miserable scream rang out from a secret chamber deep within the camp. Ever since the end of the Sword Discussion Conference, this voice had been echoing on and off for half a month. The despair and venom in the sound made the Cultivators responsible for guarding the area break out in goosebumps and shiver with cold. They only dared stand far away at their assigned posts, not daring to take even one extra step toward the secret chamber or glance in that direction, as if doing so would cause them to be swallowed whole by that suffocating despair.
"Trash! Trash! All of you are trash! Get out! Get the hell out of here!" On the sickbed, Ivan, who only had one arm and one leg left, swung the scepter hanging by the corner of the bed and smashed it hard onto the forehead of a Cultivator who had been treating him. The damage caused by a Divine Artifact’s true strike instantly split the man’s head open and sent blood streaming down. Yet that Cultivator did not even dare to utter a word of protest. He just grunted, clutched the wound on his forehead, and fled from this suffocating room like the wind, along with the other Cultivators inside who escaped as though they’d been released from torment.
"Trash! You’re all trash! You can’t even handle the simplest wound-stopping and still dare call yourselves godly doctors—just a bunch of useless pigs lying around waiting to die!" Ivan grabbed the scepter in his hand and hurled it toward the direction the doctors had fled. The scepter, thrown without aim or strength, struck the wall feebly and bounced back, landing on the sagging bedsheet where his missing left leg had left a hollow. Seeing this, Di Xin pressed his only remaining right hand on that empty patch of sheet and grated two words out through clenched teeth.
"Pei Yan!"
He was ruined. Even without anyone telling him, Ivan knew he was ruined. Right after the Sword Discussion Conference had ended, he had still been clinging to illusions, believing that everything Pei Yan had said on the stage was just deliberate exaggeration, that relying on Blood Slaughter’s resources he would surely be able to find a way to restore his severed arm and leg. But everything that had happened these past days had dealt him heavy blow after heavy blow. Whether he tried to rely on his own self-healing ability, or on multiple Cultivators skilled in medicine and healing-type Magic, he had even brought in Priests from the Magic Plane’s Church who specialized in Holy Healing Magic. After countless attempts, every single one had ended in failure.
Not only that, his injuries had not recovered; this string of forced healing attempts had triggered serious side effects, causing his wounds to fester and rot. The only option was to carve out the necrotic flesh and rely on Ivan’s own self-healing to grow some new tissue. But the new flesh still stubbornly refused to close up and would begin festering again after a while. Because of this, these past few days he had been trapped in a vicious cycle of carving out, self-healing, festering, then carving again, screaming in agony the whole time.
And all of this was thanks to Pei Yan!
Creak, creak—the grating, tooth-aching sound of a wooden door being pushed open suddenly rang out. Immersed in his pain and rage, Ivan didn’t want to see anyone at this moment. He couldn’t even be bothered to see who had come and snapped impatiently, "Get out!"
"Don’t be so heartless. We’re fellow disciples at the very least, aren’t we?"
Hearing this voice, Ivan jerked his head up to look at the newcomer, and the expression on his face instantly twisted as he snarled, "How dare you show your face in front of me!"
"Hey, don’t change attitude that fast. Isn’t this the time you should be thanking me for saving your life?" The newcomer was none other than Nero, one of the Three Tyrants. He too had lost his left forearm in that battle, his arm now wrapped tightly in bandages. Compared to his former unruly arrogance, Nero’s face now carried a touch more weariness and gloom.
"Saving me? Heh, heh, heh. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how I ended up like this? If I hadn’t reacted in time back then, you wouldn’t even have had the chance to ’save’ me—you would’ve just gotten me killed outright!" Ivan let out a cold laugh and casually tossed the scepter on the bed aside. He flipped back the bedsheet, exposing his still pus-oozing wound to Nero’s face as he roared, "The way I am today was because of Pei Yan’s hands, but you bear half the blame as well!"
"Enough! Don’t sit there cursing heaven and earth like you’re some tragic victim. As if you would’ve been spared if I hadn’t dragged you all in to block that strike." Nero dragged a chair over from the corner and sat down, saying with disdain, "With the situation in the arena at that time, if I had died, you think Pei Yan would’ve let you go? In the end we all would’ve died together, no difference. Me risking my life to pull you out of there already counts as paying you back. Whatever mistakes I made before, this should count as one life for one life, shouldn’t it?"
"Hmph, what’s the use of talking about this now?" Ivan couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. This was the moment right after he’d finished carving out the rotten flesh and the new meat had just grown in, when the pain was relatively lighter. He leaned back against the headboard, closed his eyes, and said weakly, "Did you come here today just to say this, to tell me you’ve made it up to me so that you can feel better about yourself? Heh, heh, heh, sorry, I was overthinking it. How could the proud leader of the Three Tyrants feel guilty over someone else’s pain? Just say what you came to say. When you’re done, get out. I don’t want to see you for another second."
Faced with Ivan’s biting sarcasm, Nero, for once, didn’t get angry. He slanted back against the chair, speaking calmly, "Pei Yan went to the Spirit Monster Plane."
"Pei Yan!" At that name, Ivan’s body shot upright and his eyes flew open, filled with fire and killing intent. Yet that blaze quickly sank into helplessness and desolation. As the light faded from his gaze, his body slackened, collapsing back onto the bed. Lying there, he said feebly, "What are you telling me this for? You’ve seen what I am now. I’m a cripple. Even if Pei Yan stood right in front of me now, what could I do besides letting him butcher me? Hell, even back when we were whole and uninjured, didn’t we still suffer a crushing defeat at his hands?"