Chapter 668 - 68: Ancestral Tomb

Chapter 668: Chapter 68: Ancestral Tomb

PFFT!

The Crimson light pierced through Mira’s skull, exiting the back of her head and kicking up a fine spray of blood mist.

Her body flew high into the air like a struck kite, her limbs spread wide and limp in the moonlight. Her White Robe whipped wildly in the wind before she crashed heavily onto the stone platform.

The stone bowl was knocked over, its clear water scattering into the air.

Mira lay face-up on the stone platform. At the edge of the fist-sized hole in the center of her forehead, shattered bone mixed with brain matter. Blood gushed from the crater, spilling over her brow and the bridge of her nose, then splitting into two streams that slid down her cheeks and soaked her white collar.

But a moment later, the edges of the hole began to squirm.

Flesh and blood extended from the fractured bone, crisscrossing like sprouting branches to weave together the dome of her skull.

Severed blood vessels reconnected, and tiny beads of blood rushed through the newly formed walls.

Muscle fibers layered over one another, weaving together as densely as the warp and weft on a loom.

Finally, skin spread from the wound’s edge toward the center—pale and flawless, without a single scar.

Like a blade of grass breaking through the soil in spring.

Mira’s eyes snapped open. As she flipped over and rose from the stone platform, her right hand was already raised, five fingers spread wide. Her palm faced the sky behind her—toward the streak of Crimson sword light darting through the night.

Countless Golden Threads shot from her palm.

They interwove into a great net, closing in on the Crimson sword light from all directions.

The mesh was so dense not even moonlight could pass through.

The Crimson sword light abruptly veered in midair, rushing east.

The Golden Threads followed close behind, writhing in pursuit like a nest of startled snakes.

The sword light dodged again, streaking west, but the Golden Threads outflanked it from that direction as well.

Mira stood within the Holy Hall, her ten fingers plucking furiously. Each finger controlled dozens of Golden Threads, as if she were playing an invisible harp.

But the sword light was too fast.

It darted left and right through the gaps in the Golden Threads—east, west, south, north. Each turn perfectly grazed the edge of a thread, as slippery as an eel weaving through a fishing net.

Mira’s fingers plucked faster and faster, sweat beading on her forehead. The net of Golden Threads tightened, its mesh shrinking—but the sword light always found the one remaining gap an instant before it closed, slipping through an opening so narrow that almost no light could pass.

"You damn thing!" Mira snarled, the words forced through her clenched teeth.

Her fingers suddenly clenched, her ten nails digging into her palms like an eagle’s talons.

The blood scattered across the sky—the same blood that had exploded from her head and had yet to fall—suddenly began to glow.

Each droplet transformed into a Golden Needle as fine as an ox’s hair. They hovered in midair, a dense swarm with every tip aimed at the Crimson sword light.

"Intruder, die!"

Her voice boomed through the night sky.

Thousands of Golden Needles shot out at once, stabbing toward the sword light from every direction.

The Golden Needles trailed Golden Threads, leaving no gaps, no blind spots. Every needle sealed off a potential escape route for the sword light.

The sound of the Golden Needles piercing the air blended into a single drone, like ten thousand bees buzzing at once.

The Crimson sword light did not dodge.

It stopped.

Hanging in midair.

Then, it slashed.

A wave of Sword Qi erupted, transforming into a bolt of Crimson silk that clove the golden screen of needles down the middle, like a red-hot hammer smashing into a pile of broken glass.

Before the Sword Qi, the Golden Needles were like paper, shattered, crushed, and torn to dust. The golden fragments exploded in the night sky, forming clouds of gilded mist.

The Sword Qi burst from the golden mist.

It was too fast, like a falling meteor.

SHLICK!

The Sword Qi sliced into her left shoulder and exited through her right ribs.

Her body was cleaved diagonally in two. Her upper torso slid off her lower half, tumbled onto the stone steps, and rolled down, one step at a time.

Her White Robe, soaked in blood, left a long, dark red trail on the stone steps.

Her lower body remained standing for a moment, swayed, and then collapsed. Her knees hit the edge of a step with a dull thud.

Her torso rolled to the bottom of the stairs, landing face-up.

Moonlight illuminated her face. It was deathly pale, her lips completely drained of color.

Her eyes were open, staring up at the open-air ceiling, at the few stars that were faint enough to almost disappear.

Only then did the water droplets scattered earlier finally land, trickling down the edge of the stone platform.

From the cross-section of her severed spine, new bone buds sprouted, shooting upward section by section like bamboo shoots breaking through the earth.

Organs regrew inside her abdominal cavity. Her lungs expanded and contracted. Her heart began to beat again in her chest, pumping blood through newly formed vessels to every part of her body.

Muscle and skin washed over the bone like a tide, covering everything.

She gasped for breath, taking in huge gulps of air.

Her White Robe was in tatters, hanging from her body and revealing her newly formed skin—pale, flawless, and without a single wound.

She raised her head again to look at the Crimson sword light hovering above the Holy Hall.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

She was the High Priest of a village, the inheritor of a Divine Spirit’s bloodline, and one of the strongest Guardians in this land.

But now, she understood.

’I can’t beat this intruder.’

The last few attacks had shown her she was utterly powerless to fight back.

Sera was still asleep on the bed in the corner of the hall.