Purple rain pours down on the hillside, crackling like a whisper from hell, summoning the souls of people.
On the hillside, there was a figure, wearing a raincoat and a bamboo hat, holding a long blue knife in his hand. The rain fell on the knife, and the knife was purple for a moment, and then it slipped off.
In front, there is a tribe of people who are walking hard.
There are puddles of mud and water on the ground, and every step you take, you will sink deeply into them. The holy beasts lowered their heads and walked forward step by step.
Ahead, where are you going?
For this small tribe of only a hundred people, they have no idea at all.
let's go.
It's better than waiting to die. Maybe, if you walk to the Great Wall, the adults will be merciful, and there will be a glimmer of hope to survive?
The road ahead is unclear and where to go.
Numbness, dead silence, and despair shrouded everyone's heart.
No one knows the name of this tribe, no one knows that they had a beautiful past, no one knows that they also have relatives, families, and children.
They supported each other and walked on the muddy ground.
Along the way, people kept falling down and unable to stand up again.
Maybe, if you die, you won't have to suffer this living sin anymore.
But you’re not dead yet, you have to do something, right?
For example, walk down.
There are more than tens of thousands of small tribes like this, where they can control their lives.
Their final outcome, like other tribes, was drowned in the tide of destruction.
No one remembers them.
Maybe some people expected that a big tribe would appear and kill them all.
It is better to die happily than to die of hunger, illness, or exhaustion, or to fall headfirst on the ground and never get up again.
On the hillside, a figure wearing a raincoat and looking like a god of death,
Moved.
A bolt of thunder exploded in the crowd of this small tribe, causing countless casualties.
The knife rises.
Wails spread all over the place, and the people of the small tribe had no power to resist.
The holy beast bared its teeth and rushed towards the man crazily, but it could not escape the fate of death.
The knife falls.
The world returned to silence, with only the sound of rain falling to the ground.
There was both anger and relief on the faces that were still staring blankly.
On the other side of the hillside, a group of ghost-like people, also wearing raincoats and bamboo hats, appeared on the hillside and ran towards the man holding the knife.
The man holding the knife didn't seem to hear such dense footsteps. He still held the knife and stared blankly into the distance.
The group of people rushed to the side of the knife-wielding man, but did not wave their weapons. Instead, they remained silent and spread out, searching for food and supplies from these dead people.
A group of holy beasts ran over and chewed the flesh and blood of the dead holy beasts on the ground.
This is a rare meal for them.
The knife holder took off his hat, revealing a handsome face, with his dark pupils looking towards the sky, letting the purple rain hit his face.
After a moment, he lowered his head and shouted to the people around him,
"Hurry up and leave quickly. I will take you to find Wan Lei."
A month ago, Wan Liuchuan learned that Wan Lei had killed the fourth Mahayana strongman, that Wan Lei had a fourth head, and that Liu Yuxin and Wan Lei were together.
That's good, that's good.
I can rest assured that.
He had to go find Wan Lei. In the entire place where he controlled his destiny, only Wan Lei had the head of a strong man in the Mahayana period. Only he was qualified to lead the tribe into the Great Wall.
What's more, she is there too.
He had to find Wan Lei.
He asked where Wan Lei was, and Wan Lei's answer was,
have no idea.
The land of destiny is so big that Wan Lei guessed that it might be as big as the Northern Territory of Lei Feng Continent.
There are few trees here, but many rivers. The purple rain is getting bigger and bigger, and there are winding rivers everywhere on the ground.
It used to be an endless grassland, but now it's a dead silence with corpses everywhere.
There is no reference to tell people where he is.
The sky is always gloomy. Even if you fly ten thousand miles upward, you can't see the sun. Your sense of direction is very poor. You need special directional tools to identify where the south is.
Many tribes do not have this kind of thing, but they can still distinguish it.
It's very simple, just walk in the opposite direction of the water flow. Wherever the water is higher, go wherever it is.
Water flows to lower places, and if people want to survive, they have to go to higher places.
Wanliuchuan led this small tribe through hardships and obstacles along the way, walking south step by step.
He destroyed several small tribes and plundered a lot of supplies and sacred animals for this small tribe, allowing this small tribe to survive to this day.
There are only more than a hundred people left in this tribe, all of whom are young and strong, and all of whom are capable of fighting.
It is not that there are no old, weak, women and children, but under the destruction of the continuous downpour of purple rain for more than a month, those weak people cannot bear such corrosion, and the old man's little vitality is completely destroyed by the annihilating aura of purple rain.
The child's weak body cannot withstand such torture.
Some people knew that they would not live long and did not want to drag down the tribe, so they chose to commit suicide and leave their hope of life to others.
Silence is the sound of death and the cry of life.
This small tribe, with its dwindling number of people, is walking on this road of death.
Ten miles ahead, there is a small tribe of 200 people. The strongest combat power is the third level. They have tents and other supplies and are setting up camp to rest.
Wanliuchuan's spiritual consciousness was released, and he stood on the ground, as if integrated with Ziyu, carefully observing every move of this small tribe.
In the small tribe, there is a woman in black, whose dress is obviously different from the others. She is also working hard to help those people set up camp.
"Hey, do you have any more elixirs and spiritual stones?"
A man from an indigenous tribe shouted to the woman.
"I...I don't have much left here. I've given most of it to you these days."
Qi Manyao lowered her head, opened her shriveled storage bag, and looked at it. The meager savings she had accumulated over the years were even more pitiful and scarce.
"What do you mean most of it was given to us? Is that what we asked for from you? Then you are willing to give it yourself, we are not forcing you.
Besides, look, the old lady is about to die of illness, and you still don’t give her the elixir. If she dies, it will all be your fault.
Now that the spiritual energy of heaven and earth has disappeared, if you don't give us spiritual stones, how can we survive? When the time comes to fight with others, won't we be killed because we don't have spiritual energy?
We all died because of you.
We are so weak and poor, how can we live if you don't give us anything? Why do you have no conscience at all? Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?"
"Stop talking, stop talking, can't I give it to you?"
Qi Manyao looked at the people around her who were glaring at her, silently opened her storage bag, took out the few spirit stones left in it, and handed them to the yelling person in front of her.
She didn't understand why she kept helping these people, but these people didn't think of her at all. Instead, they kept asking for things. If she didn't give, they would treat her as their enemy.