Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Spirit of the Tortoise, Summoning the Troops
“The Immoveable King Formation can only be cast within the bounds of the Netherworld, but... at this moment, the Netherworld can barely extend any further...”
Staring into the gray, misty realm before him, the Son of Darkness’s eyes shone with contemplation as he murmured softly to himself.
After a brief pause, he sat cross-legged without hesitation. As a faint, chilling aura flowed around him, the pervasive haze seemed to gradually disperse, revealing the landscape within a few miles.
What emerged was a scene of shattered ruins—broken palaces steeped in ancient, solemn desolation.
The endless, uncanny energy swirling about lent the place an indescribable sense of unease.
Yet the Son of Darkness appeared perfectly attuned to this place. A light of remembrance flickered in his eyes as he whispered as though recalling days long past:
“The War of the End, bloodshed and savage lament…”
“The birth of the Nether Artifact, the Spirit of the Dark Turtle…”
“In my name, Son of Darkness, I summon you to return…”
“Come back…”
“The Divine Dynasty rises once more, chaos returns… Follow me, wage war across the cosmos, shed blood to slay the immortals…”
His voice was slow and gentle, drifting outward. Around him, a subtle aura of summoning emerged; before him, a pale blue light flickered, as if drawing something forth.
The surrounding gray mist swirled violently!
As sinister forces spread, suddenly, a jet-black light shot directly toward the Son of Darkness!
It halted three yards before him.
Suspended in the void, as if hesitating, an aged, bewildered voice sounded:
“Your Majesty… Is it… you?”
The Son of Darkness did not reply. He simply waved his hand, and in his palm appeared a three-striped white mask, radiating an aura of boundless dignity, malevolence, and ferocity. He placed it gently on the ground.
In an instant, the entire gray world froze!
Then, the land began to tremble; the mist reversed, endless eerie winds howled past, and the jet-black light before the Son of Darkness suddenly burst into laughter!
The aged laughter echoed through the shaking heavens and earth, until at last the winds eased, the trembling ceased, and the mist settled into stillness. The gray light slowly descended.
It swiftly outlined the spectral form of a ferocious turtle, bearing a tombstone upon its back!
A fierce aura enveloped the ghostly turtle, and the tombstone radiated endless deathly calm!
A terror beyond words seized the heart.
It was as if this turtle were the source of all evil!
“Your Majesty has returned… This world, in the end, still belongs to us!”
As the ancient laughter faded, the turtle spirit hurriedly prostrated itself before the Son of Darkness in solemn obeisance:
“Turtle Spirit, greets Your Majesty!”
“Rise.”
The Son of Darkness nodded lightly, giving a calm command, then his gaze flickered in thought as he asked:
“The countless souls of the fallen Nether Soldiers from the War of the End—how fare they now?”
“Your Majesty,”
The Turtle Spirit dared not linger, dark eyes flashing with reverence as it bowed its head and answered with utmost respect:
“The souls of the countless Nether Soldiers are all guarded by the boundary stone bestowed by Your Majesty. None have come to harm.”
“Yet, through the millennia, many reckless ones have coveted Your Majesty’s boundary stone. But fortunately, it bears the breath of Your Majesty’s transcendence—none can probe its secrets.”
“This old turtle, too, has survived these tens of thousands of years only by virtue of it.”
The Turtle Spirit’s voice carried a note of sorrow; as its ancient tones drifted forth, a hint of bitterness could be seen in its expression. After a brief pause, that bitterness gradually gave way to fervor.
With an endless devotion shining in its eyes, it bowed deeply to the Son of Darkness and declared with reverence:
“Now that Your Majesty has returned, those who steal the heavens and claim false righteousness shall all be slain!”
“This old turtle is dull-witted, but ever since Your Majesty rescued me from the Infinite Sea, I resolved in my heart that in this life… I would follow only Your Majesty, shedding blood across the heavens!”
“My body may be decayed, but my resolve endures!”
“May I, with this tattered form, fight one more battle for Your Majesty!”
Having spoken, the Turtle Spirit bowed his head completely, prostrating in deep respect before the Son of Darkness, uttering no further words.
The Son of Darkness, hearing this, allowed a subtle hint of amusement to flicker deep in his eyes. He waved his hand and knocked lightly on the Turtle Spirit’s head, speaking with faint disdain:
“Enough with the flattery.”
“Who taught you that speech?”
Others might be fooled by the Turtle Spirit’s apparently sincere words, but he knew well—the Turtle Spirit’s true essence was the Spirit of Heaven!
Much like Xuan Ye’s own identity, but without the blessings of fortune.
Moreover, its unique constitution meant its lifespan far exceeded others of its realm by tens of thousands of times!
In other words, even without sustenance, the Turtle Spirit could live for endless eons!
When he first found it, it had just emerged from its shell, and after following him for barely a hundred thousand years, it was already preparing for reincarnation?
“Ouch, Your Majesty, that hurts… it really hurts…”
After receiving a knock from the Son of Darkness, the Turtle Spirit trembled, vigorously rubbing its head with its stubby front claws, whining and gasping.
The Son of Darkness paid it no mind, and struck it again, a look of contempt in his eyes as he said:
“It’s only been a few tens of thousands of years since we last met, and you’re already trying to trick me. How should I deal with you?”
“Ah, well…”
The Turtle Spirit froze, stammering for ages, unsure how to respond.
The Son of Darkness did not pursue the matter further; his gaze thoughtful, he issued a calm command:
“Summon a hundred thousand Nether Spirits—I have need of an army.”
“Yes…”
The Turtle Spirit replied awkwardly, still respectful, as a faintly fierce aura surged around it. From the ancient tombstone on its back, a subtle gray light radiated!
A soaring battle intent erupted from within, accompanied by a terrifying aura of slaughter. The surrounding ruins distorted under its influence!
It was as if, before him, lay a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood—a battlefield of endless bones!
“By Your Majesty’s command, summon a hundred thousand Nether Spirits!”
“Awaken, all of you!”
With a flash of deep light in its eyes, the Turtle Spirit’s ancient voice resounded.
“We obey!”
Suddenly, from within the boundary stone, a thunderous shout erupted. Endless gray light burst forth; an unprecedented surge of battle intent soared skyward, accompanied by countless black points of light!
They lined up amidst the ruins, and as the light faded, a hundred thousand ferocious figures clad in black armor were swiftly outlined!
“Greetings, Your Majesty!”
In the instant the hundred thousand figures took shape, they wasted no time; all knelt before the Son of Darkness, right hand pressed to their chest!
It was the highest rite of homage in the Underworld!
Gazing at these respectful warriors, the Son of Darkness’s eyes—rarely—showed a trace of nostalgia. A faint aura of dignity flowed around him, and his calm voice drifted forth:
“My friends, it has been a long time…”