Chapter Thirty-Five: Unassailable

It was as if a current of electricity ran from his head to his toes; Ji Hao felt every hair on his body stand on end. The exclamations from Ji Ying and Ji Lang were laced with a complexity of emotions that defied description—tension, terror, and even a faint trace of fear. Gripping their weapons tightly, they thrust their chests forward and strode three steps ahead, facing the two warriors of the Karga tribe with fearless determination. Yet Ji Hao could distinctly hear it: beneath their cries, there lay a subtle fear that even they themselves had not noticed.

“Uncle Ji Ying, what on earth are these Karga creatures?” Ji Hao shouted, staring at the two enemies bearing down upon them.

“Fall back, Hao, retreat!” Ji Ying gripped his spear, his whole body blazing with fire. The flames not only erupted from within him, but his very figure seemed to turn half-transparent in the glow. “Those are the Karga fiends—stay away from them!”

A cold, disdainful chuckle escaped the lips of the two Karga warriors. They advanced steadily, step by swift step, their eight icy, merciless eyes glinting like those of wolves who have found their prey.

Facing these foes, exuding an aura of evil from every pore, Ji Hao took a deep breath. His eyes sparkled like the brightest stars in the night sky. Within the spiritual chamber of his soul, his violet core spun rapidly, drawing in the thick, water-like essence of heaven and earth in invisible vortices that poured ceaselessly into his body.

He silently recited the nine-word mantra. Suddenly, his form blurred, as if his body were but an illusion reflected in water or a dream. In that instant, a muffled thunderclap echoed from the distant sky. Ji Hao pointed one hand to the ground and the other to the heavens, his eyes shooting forth a cold, chaotic light. A gust of wind arose from nowhere, whistling with a chilling sound.

The earth beneath the feet of the two Karga warriors rippled like water. With a hissing sound, a dozen earthen spikes as thick as arms shot out from the ground. Their tips gleamed with a pale, chilling light, and, driven by Ji Hao’s magic, these spikes were nearly harder than steel.

Sharp and unyielding, the spikes slammed against the armor of the two Karga warriors and shattered with a resounding crash. The two did not budge an inch; their armor, smooth as a mirror, bore not a single mark. Their mocking smiles grew more pronounced, the cold light in their eyes even fiercer.

“Swift!” Ji Hao cried, and the vegetation around them began to sway. Hundreds of towering trees collapsed and withered in an instant, vast swathes of grass turned yellow and fell, but the clumps of wild grass nearest to the two Karga warriors grew madly. A thick green light enveloped these clumps, their blades swelling hundreds of times within a single breath, turning into monstrous vines that lashed out like giant serpents to ensnare the two foes.

The wild grass, now more than a foot wide and dozens of yards long, wound tightly around the Karga warriors, cocooning them in an impenetrable mass. The blades writhed and squeezed, their friction producing a deep, grating boom like boulders colliding.

“What a tedious trick!” a cold, mocking voice rang out from within the tangled cocoon. Empowered by Ji Hao’s spell, the grass blades had become as tough as steel rods, but with a thunderous crack, they shattered into fragments that flew for hundreds of yards. The two Karga warriors, clad in heavy armor, broke free without a change of expression and continued their relentless advance.

“Hao! Fall back!” Ji Lang shouted sharply. “Those are Karga fiends—only a Grand Shaman can deal with them!”

Ji Hao formed a magic seal with his fingers, cycling through the nine-word mantra. The surrounding essence of heaven and earth surged and clashed, birthing a spark from thin air. Then, with a mighty whoosh, swathes of air ignited. Amid the roar of wind and flame, nine fire serpents as thick as arms and several yards long shot forth, searing hot, hurling themselves at the two ever-advancing enemies.

The fire serpents struck their marks, but the Karga warriors did not even flinch. They cast a scornful glance at Ji Hao, their heavy armor erupting in a shower of sparks as the nine fire serpents exploded. Yet not a single scratch marred their gleaming armor, and they did not slow even slightly.

He had attacked three times in succession, exhausting every technique at his disposal—his power now matched that of an elite junior shaman—yet he had failed to inflict the slightest harm on the Karga warriors. Ji Hao could not even sense any magical fluctuation from their bodies; they simply relied on their absurdly powerful defenses, withstanding everything he threw at them.

“Strike!” came the angry cries of a few Qingyi warriors stationed at the rear. A dozen arrows streaked through the air, trailing a faint green glow as they shot toward the gleaming eyes of the Karga warriors.

The two sneered as they calmly closed their eyes.

The archery skills of the Qingyi warriors were ferocious; a dozen arrows struck the tightly shut eyelids of the Karga warriors almost simultaneously. Joy surged in Ji Hao’s heart, but it was instantly replaced by a heavy, icy dread, as if his heart had been plunged into freezing water.

The Qingyi warriors garrisoned at Cold Creek Ravine were all elite, mid- or high-rank junior shamans. Their arrows could pierce through a dozen ancient trees with ease from miles away. Yet when these arrows struck the eyelids of the Karga warriors, they shattered like eggs against stone!

The Karga warriors blinked, brushing the powder from their eyelids and lashes, the remains of the pulverized arrows. With a few more strides, they were already upon Ji Ying and Ji Lang.

Ji Hao’s face was taut as he watched these monstrous enemies. Their thin eyelids were as impervious as bronze walls; not even the arrows of the Qingyi warriors could pierce them!

Ji Ying charged ahead of Ji Lang, his spear blazing with fire. The tip flickered with dozens of fiery sparks as he thrust mercilessly at one of the Karga warriors.

He put all his strength into this attack, the spear trailing a dragon of flame, making the ground tremble violently. Pebbles bounced, earth melted, and a thin layer of magma began to spread across the ground.

The Karga warrior facing Ji Ying held a spiked mace in his left hand. His feet moved in a strange pattern—a turn, a spin—and Ji Ying’s wild attack swept past, barely grazing his body, tearing the air but failing to touch its mark.

Swiftly, the Karga warrior’s right fist shot out, aiming straight for Ji Ying’s throat. Ji Ying missed his strike and had no time to recover before the blow landed. He grunted as the punch struck home, the air trapped in his throat, his eyes rolling back.

The spiked mace whistled down with a heavy thud, smashing hard into the back of Ji Ying’s head. Ji Ying howled, collapsing to the ground and convulsing in pain.

“Ying!” Ji Lang cried out in alarm, leaping toward the Karga warrior who had felled Ji Ying. But as soon as he launched himself, the other Karga warrior seemed to anticipate his move; the heavy shield appeared before Ji Lang. He crashed into it headlong, splitting his skin and drawing a stream of blood from his brow.

Ji Hao’s pupils shrank to the size of pinpoints.

The attacks of the two Karga warriors were clean and direct, each movement honed as if forged by endless training, devoid of any wasted motion.

Ji Ying and Ji Lang, both Grand Shamans, were defeated with ease. The impression these Karga warriors left on Ji Hao was nothing like that of living men—they were nothing less than machines built solely for battle!