Chapter 669 - 68: Ancestral Tomb

Chapter 669: Chapter 68: Ancestral Tomb

There were still elders and children in the village.

And the ones who had just returned from the battlefield, covered in wounds, who hadn’t even had a chance to catch their breath.

She couldn’t run.

But if she died here, who would be left to defend them?

The thought flashed through her mind for only an instant before she made her decision.

Mira transformed into a streak of pale golden light and flew west.

That was the direction of Ephialtes—the spatial rift she had personally sealed just that day.

But in the instant she turned, the Golden Threads in the air began to interweave, entwine, and spread out. Like a colossal blanket being woven by a goddess, it unfurled directly over the village, layering and thickening, one sheet after another.

It grew denser and thicker, shrouding the entire village beneath it.

The crimson Sword Qi gave chase.

As Mira flew, her ten fingers plucked nimbly through the air.

The Golden Threads moved—they swarmed the crimson Sword Qi from all directions, forcing it to change course and continue its pursuit of Mira.

However, the crimson Sword Qi seemed to pay the Golden Threads no mind.

It made no attempt to attack the great net covering the village, nor the golden strands swarming it from all sides.

It only chased Mira.

The Golden Threads wrapped around it, winding ever thicker, ever denser, like a golden cocoon.

The crimson Sword Qi pulsed from within the cocoon, unleashing slash after slash that cleaved through the Golden Threads before it.

Wherever it slashed, the air warped and twisted from the scorching heat. Waves of intense heat billowed out from the gashes, like flames pouring from a furnace.

The severed Golden Threads curled and melted in the high temperature, turning into golden droplets that hung in mid-air before being enveloped by more threads surging from behind.

Mira gritted her teeth and kept flying.

The Sword Qi closed in from behind. The crimson glow grew closer and hotter, like a blade held to the nape of her neck.

PFFT!

The Sword Qi burst out of the cocoon.

Mira’s body was severed once again—her upper and lower torso separated in mid-flight. Blood exploded in the air like a blossoming flower.

But even before she could fall, she was already starting to reform.

Bone grew from the severed cross-sections, muscle wound around it like vines, and skin spread from the center to the edges.

She didn’t even stop. Her upper body continued to fly as her lower half reconnected.

The Golden Threads wrapped around the Sword Qi once more.

One layer, two, then three—Mira threw every Golden Thread she could command at it, wrapping the Sword Qi into an airtight sphere.

The Sword Qi flickered within.

One slash, two slashes, three.

Each slash tore through the Golden Threads, and waves of heat erupted from the fissures, scorching the newly wrapped outer layers until they became brittle.

Wrap, slice. Wrap again, slice again.

Mira flew for her life.

All she could do was fly, fly at full speed, fly toward Ephialtes.

The Sword Qi caught up again.

This time, it pierced her from behind, entering through her left shoulder blade and exiting through her right hip.

Her body was cleaved diagonally, like a bolt of cloth cut by a sharp blade. The two halves separated in the air, each tumbling as it fell.

But she was still flying—even split in two, both halves of her body continued westward.

Her upper half’s right arm remained outstretched, while her lower half’s legs still traced a flight path through the air.

Bone grew from the severed edges, and blood vessels extended from the cross-sections.

The two halves drew together in mid-flight. Flesh fused, bones knit, and skin healed over.

But the Sword Qi came again.

This time, it was her left arm. The entire limb was severed at the shoulder joint, flying off to tumble a few times in the night sky before falling to the earth below.

Mira let out a muffled grunt. Before the blood could even spray from the wound, it was already sealed by new tissue.

A new stub of bone grew from her shoulder, followed by muscle, blood vessels, and skin—a brand-new arm extended from the stump, its five fingers splayed open.

Her fingers clenched into a fist.

Behind her, the Golden Threads exploded like a golden flower. Its petals spread in all directions, wrapping the crimson Sword Qi within its core.

Layer after layer, coil after coil, Golden Threads poured from her fingertips, from the ends of her hair, from her tattered White Robe, wrapping around it with desperate abandon.

Mira didn’t know how long the Golden Threads could hold it.

But a single moment was all she needed.

She had arrived.

Below her was the stone platform—the very same one where she had stood all day, using all her strength to seal Ephialtes.

Mira didn’t stop.

She flew past the platform, heading for the cliff below.

Beneath the platform was a dark, heavy void.

A wind blew up from the base of the cliff, carrying a damp, rotten stench.

She spread her arms and plunged into the darkness, the fragments of her White Robe whipping in the wind like a moth drawn to a flame.

From behind her came the sound of countless Golden Threads snapping, dense and sharp, like a thousand lute strings breaking at once.

The crimson Sword Qi burst from the golden debris—from behind, it pierced the back of her head and exited through her forehead.

PFFT!

Mira’s head exploded in that instant.

Bone fragments, a mist of blood, and brain matter erupted under the moonlight like a burst of grayish-white fireworks.

Her body lost all strength. Her limbs hung limp as she plummeted toward the bottom of the cliff, like a bird that had been shot from the sky.

In the process of falling, her head began to reform.

Stubs of bone grew from the stump of her neck, one by one.

Brain tissue regrew inside the cranial cavity—grayish-white and wrinkled, like a swelling sprout.

Eyeballs took shape in their sockets. The pupils appeared before the irises, two points of profound black, before gray-blue irises spread out from their edges.

Last was the skin, spreading simultaneously from her jaw, forehead, and behind her ears to meet at the bridge of her nose.

THUD.

Her body slammed onto the bottom of the cliff, her back hitting the hard ground with a dull thud.

She lay facing the sky, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath.

The moonlight shone down from the clifftop, growing faint and weak over its long descent, like a thin mist about to disperse.

Then she saw it.

The crimson Sword Qi streaked down from the clifftop, like a falling star trailing a long tail.

It grew closer and brighter, bathing the entire cliff bottom in a blood-red light.

Mira tried her best to shift aside.

PFFT!

The Sword Qi pierced her chest, pinning her to the ground.

The bottom of the cliff was a dense field of tombstones.

The stone markers were stuck crookedly in the earth. Some had already fallen, half-buried in the soil. Others were split into pieces, barely held upright by bindings of iron wire.

The words on the stones had been worn away by wind and rain, leaving only gashes of varying depths, like the wrinkles on an old man’s face.

Withered yellow grass grew between the tombstones, its blades beaded with dew that glinted and dimmed in the moonlight.

The wind wound between the tombstones, making a wailing sound, like someone crying in the distance.

This was the graveyard of Eira Village.

Three thousand years ago, long before Eira Village even existed, this had been the burial ground of their ancestors.

All the dead were buried here.

Mira felt no pain at all. Suddenly, she smiled.

The corners of her mouth turned up, pulling at the newly formed, not-yet-fully-healed skin on her face, revealing a row of blood-stained teeth.

Her eyes shone with a frightening light. Her gray-blue pupils reflected the crimson Sword Qi pinning her chest, the moon sinking overhead, and the crooked tombstones all around.

"Invader, your time has come."

Her ten fingers suddenly dug into the earth beneath her. Her fingertips sank into the soft, dew-soaked soil, plunging in up to her knuckles.

Dark brown soil squeezed between her fingers, carrying the stench of rotting grass roots and the ice-cold temperature from beneath the tombstones.

Then, the earth split open.

And then, roars erupted from the graveyard.

The voices of men, women, elders, and children rose from beneath every tombstone, surging up from every inch of soil, as if countless people who had long been slumbering were all startled awake at once.

Countless voices, dense and overwhelming.

They were hoarse, deep, and indistinct, as if their throats were choked with dirt.

"Get out—"

"Leave this place—"

"Death to the invader—"