The attacks from the gods are not just targeting this place.
Almost most of the Soul Sect's strongholds were attacked.
But those who have the courage to sacrifice their souls and attract the attention of the Lord of Souls are just chasing them.
Monet was not unaware that the Soul Sect was being hit hard.
But he didn't stop it.
In order for the young eagle to spread its wings and fly, it needs to fall off the cliff and stumble along the way to find a way to fly freely.
As a believed god, Monet gave his followers weapons to protect life and dignity.
It is impossible to act as a nanny for them, to do everything possible, and to protect all believers like delicate flowers in a greenhouse. This is where Monet is smart. He knows that the human race is very important, and he also knows that the human race's belief in him is very important to him.
But I also know that if there is no pain and hardship of survival, all these important things will eventually become 'unimportant'.
This is why jade cannot be used until it is polished.
The terrifying weirdo, with disgusting mucus dripping all over his body, and a terrifying roar coming from his mouth full of sharp teeth.
The two priests who could not escape were grabbed by the weirdo, then put into his mouth and bit off their heads.
The frightened crowd was running away like crazy.
But in this case.
There were a few people running in the opposite direction, dragging heavy stone swords.
He held an ancient stone sword in his hand. The thick sword was still stained with red blood stains. The accumulated scratches meant that these stone swords had an unusual origin.
"Floods and epidemics are widespread. All people are attacked universally. Children and women are killed. We are all prisoners and cannot find out who is doing the harm. But... we will never give in. Amid death and lamentation, we pull out Draw our swords, face fear, and exact punishment. Our bodies will decay, but our spirits will shine with glory."
In the brilliant golden flames, several warriors held their stone swords high and launched a charge amidst chants.
"It's the Counterattack Knight!" Someone shouted loudly.
In the relatively short extraordinary history of mankind, there have been blood-rage knights who inherited extraordinary powers through blood and accumulated strength.
There are also rebel knights who continue their unyielding fighting spirit through their swords.
Live against the odds and fight to the death.
The spirits of all dead warriors will be attached to the weapons they used.
In the end, these weapons will become extraordinary weapons with powerful spirituality.
Those who are recognized by these weapons will become the new counter-war knights.
The sword's blade burned with the flame of faith, as if it could burn through everything.
But the disgusting and terrifying god descendants, spitting out thick gray smoke, corrode these stone swords with strong faith.
The overwhelming poisonous gas engulfed the warriors holding stone swords.
Faced with such danger, none of the counter-war knights retreated. They formed a wall of flesh and blood to buy time for those behind them to escape.
charge! Toward the unknown! Towards fear! Towards death! Continuous charge.
At this moment, the spirit contained in the stone sword and the person holding the sword have reached a high degree of spiritual synchronization and consistency.
The many once vivid figures are now all overlapped together.
Their beliefs, their fighting spirit, their spirit, their will, their experience... were all forcibly twisted into a whole by a sword.
The sword is swung, a simple chop, but it seems to contain countless spiritual truths.
Even the simplest sword move, once it is integrated with a strong will, is indestructible and irresistible.
The gray poisonous smoke was continuously chopped and cut off.
Facing the approaching sword edge, the disgusting god let out an angry roar, but for some unknown reason, he stepped back step by step.
Step back, step by step, finally there is no way back.
charge! charge! The blade of the sword cut off everything and slashed towards the god's forehead.
But injustice is injustice, and the descendant of God has the blessing of the gods.
Only divine power can break the blessing formed by divine power.
No matter how strong the belief is, it seems that it cannot overcome this gap.
This may be one of the reasons why the old man played by Feng Linyi caused such a sensation by killing gods with a mortal body.
The disgusting divine descendant shook the divine light on his body. Under the divine light, the flames seeping out of the stone sword began to fade one after another.
In the end, all the flames were forcibly suppressed, and the stone sword in the hands of the counter-war knight seemed to turn into a mortal object.
charge!
Even though they were only hit by a sword that was no longer blessed by a strong will, these anti-war knights still waved the swords in their hands and launched a charge, never giving up or giving up.
The flame of faith has been extinguished, but the new will is awakening on the edge of the sword.
Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!
Stone swords fell to the ground.
Their masters were corroded and died in the gray poisonous smoke, leaving only the stone swords with many scratches.
People began to despair.
Suddenly a young man rushed out from the fleeing crowd.
He picked up a stone sword on the ground, and then followed the example of the previous counter-war knight, running in extreme reverse and charging towards death.
There is a young man’s awakening.
More people began to turn around. They took steps, and their expressions gradually became firmer as they ran.
Finally, one after another, people picked up the stone sword on the ground.
Then one after another, their bodies were melted in the gray poisonous smoke.
There were more blood spots on the stone sword.
The stone sword, which was originally made of ordinary material, seemed to be turning into blood.
A figure appeared at one end of the battlefield.
But no one saw him.
The oldest god of death looked at the death of everyone here indifferently, his expression did not change at all.
But gradually he stretched out a finger.
It was like something was lit on fire.
Those stone swords that could only be attached to and controlled by others began to beat on their own.
A roar roared out from the sword.
The phantoms of death emerged from the sword blade, and their faces kept changing, and finally became fixed.
The black mist of death condensed under them into strange ghostly horses.
Riding on these war horses, holding swords in their hands.
Charge again! charge! charge!
Under the tenacious sword light, the seemingly invincible divine descendant was once again defeated step by step.
On him, the light of blessing from God was being chipped thinner and thinner by those sword blades with firm will.
In the end, several long swords pierced the body of the god.
Blood with strong toxicity flows out.
The god descended, and his body quickly merged into the earth and turned into a swamp.
As for the counterattack knights with illusory bodies, their eyes flickered darkly, and then they rode away on ghost horses and ran towards the distant mountains.
For quite some time afterwards, legends about these rebel knights would spread.
They will always appear in the most dangerous places, facing death and launching a desperate charge against the most ferocious enemies.
At this time, Monet was spreading his teachings.
He felt a trace of the fluctuation of the divine power of death.
He knew that his old friend was here too.
