All cultivators from all over the world came together, but in the face of the turbulent and strange red mist, they still could not stop the spread of the red mist.
The red mist carries endless curse power, as if it is mocking the people in front of them who want to resist...
The red mist continues to expand, and the front lines of cultivators in the world are constantly being forced back.
The endless strange red mist is like a catastrophe in the Ninth Realm, swallowing up the Ninth Realm step by step.
The sky was gloomy, making everyone breathless.
The whole world is shrouded in gloom...
...
When a swordsman, a casual cultivator, was rescuing someone, his right hand was accidentally stained with red mist. The swordsman was startled. He could feel some kind of strange curse hitting his head along his arm.
The companion beside Jian Xiu looked at Jian Xiu with sadness in his eyes.
Before he could react, the sword cultivator made a quick decision, held the sword in his left hand, and swung it fiercely...
Suddenly, blood splattered. The right arm stained with red mist was instantly chopped off by himself.
The companion looked at the sword cultivator blankly, and saw the sword cultivator holding the sword in his left hand. He slowly placed the long sword across his neck, closed his eyes... as if waiting for something.
After a while, nothing seemed to change. The sword cultivator slowly put down his sword and breathed a sigh of relief.
Turning to look at his stunned companions, the swordsman smiled freely: "At worst, I'll just switch to holding the sword again."
The companion laughed fiercely, nodded and said: "Continue?"
"You're not dead, why stop?" The sword cultivator held the sword in his left hand, waved it awkwardly, and then headed towards the edge of the red mist.
"If I get tricked, help me. Don't cause them any trouble..."
"Easy to say..."
...
An old monk from Wuliangyuan rescued a child on the edge of the red mist, took the child and flew out.
Suddenly, behind the old monk, the child's eyes glowed red, and long red nails grew out of his hands, piercing the monk's back.
The old monk shuddered and slowly turned his head, and was surprised to find that there was an invisible red mist on the back of the child's neck.
The old monk opened his mouth, slowly lowered himself, and gently put down the little boy who had lost his mind.
"Amitabha..."
Looking back at his fellow disciples who were still busy, the old monk's eyes showed sadness, then he picked up the little boy and rushed into the red mist.
The old monk took the child into the red mist and walked far away. After making sure that the little boy could not leave the red mist, he let the little boy down.
In the red mist, the old monk felt that his consciousness was slowly dissipating.
"All living beings need to survive countless tribulations..."
The old monk sat down cross-legged, sighed, slowly raised his right hand, and slapped his face...
There was a sound of bone cracking, and the old monk sat down...
...
Scenes like this happened everywhere on the edge of the red mist. Cultivators all over the world encountered various disasters and were either seriously injured or died.
Watching his companions fall one by one, watching his fellow disciples being swallowed up by the red mist one by one.
No one flinched and no one complained.
Everyone is numbly doing everything they can do, as if they have long given up hope for all this.
They know that everything is in vain...
The red mist fills the sky and will eventually cover the entire ninth world. How many people will be able to survive by then?
The Ninth Realm is cut off from the outside world and will not affect the outside world.
Just like the Divine Realm ten thousand years ago, the entire Ninth Realm will turn into an uninhabited ghost realm...
Everything I am doing now is just for the sake of peace of mind.
...
A rescued little girl was in the arms of a Taoist monk, looking at the raging and terrifying red mist, with tears on her face, and softly sang a nursery rhyme.
That nursery rhyme was taught to her by her mother, but her mother was already buried in the red mist...
For some reason, the little girl wanted to sing the nursery rhyme her mother taught her to say goodbye to her mother.
That nursery rhyme should have been: Drought, drought, don’t be arrogant. Our family has a surplus of food. A three-year-old child can forage for grass, and an eighty-year-old grandpa can plant rice seedlings.
The little girl sang it but it became:
"Heavenly calamity, heavenly calamity, don't be arrogant.
We have a son and a son in our family.
Grandpa in his eighties can fight,
Three-year-olds can hide. "
Those strange and strange nursery rhymes spread all over the edge of the silent red mist, like a hint of rebellion.
There is a cry in the nursery rhyme, which penetrates into people's hearts.
The Dao Sect monk looked down at the little girl who was singing endlessly in his arms, and the numb look on his face gradually relaxed.
It seems that we already know the final outcome of this catastrophe, which is just the destruction on the ninth day...
Opening his mind, the Taoist monk also sang along with the little girl.
Two voices came out, one big and one small.
Gradually, more and more people started singing along...
"Heavenly calamity, heavenly calamity, don't be arrogant. We have a son in our family.
An eighty-year-old grandfather can fight, and a three-year-old child can hide..."
Those nursery rhymes are like flashbacks before despair. They can't change anything, but they want to leave something behind...
The nursery rhyme reached Su Mo's ears, and Su Mo's eyes turned red.
...
Day after day, the red mist becomes wider and wider...
The red mist spread, and more and more people disappeared into the red mist.
All cultivators in the world are falling one after another, and there are fewer and fewer people who can take action...
The red mist spread faster and faster, but Su Mo walked slower and slower...
Even though he had the ultimate level of cultivation, he was still helpless when faced with the harbinger of the Nine Heavens Tribulation.
Finally, there were not many active monks left in the void. Those monks who could still move were powerless.
King Ying and his wife returned to Su Mo weakly and looked at Su Mo in silence.
The void beast also staggered back to Su Mo's side, its huge body crumbling...
Su Mo used the power of national destiny to send King Ying and his wife back to the imperial city. The imperial city was still far away from here and could not be covered and swallowed up by the red mist so quickly.
Su Mo glanced at the remaining monks and slowly bowed down.
To those who are still alive, and to those who are already in the red mist...
Su Mo turned around in silence and continued to see people off.
A long time passed, and finally...
Su Mo was also exhausted.
To be precise... the national fortune is exhausted.
After Su Mo borrowed the power of national destiny to move tens of millions of mortals, he squeezed the power of national destiny to nothing...
Su Mo stopped and stood in the void in a daze.
He looked confused, he was no longer able to send away a whole city of people... If Confucianism and Taoism mantras did not cooperate with the power of national destiny, how many people could be sent away?
However, when Su Mo and many monks stopped, the red mist would not stop.
The red mist is still spreading, spreading towards the entire world.
Looking around, the red mist has covered about 30% of the land for nine days...
It won't be long before no one on the entire ninth day will be spared.
It seems that this is a catastrophe that no one can solve...
Biquge
