Ten Thousand Hearts' Lanterns

The descent of the black mountain was more terrifying than anyone had anticipated.

It wasn't a rock or a meteorite—it was a living mountain, formed from seventy thousand years of accumulated dark energy.

As it fell, tens of millions of sinister runes on its surface blazed to life, dyeing half the sky a nauseating, ghastly green.

Wherever that light touched, all moisture in the air was evaporated by dark force. Grass and trees withered in an instant, and even the microorganisms in the soil dissolved into black, putrid sludge.

When the mountain was still ten thousand zhang above the ground, the walls of Nan’an City began to crack.

The city’s protective formation array flickered wildly under the oppressive pressure; the rate of spirit stone consumption was fifty times the usual.

The array mages directing the formation desperately fed stones into the array disc, but the replenishment couldn't keep up with the drain—every hundred stones fed in were drained empty within three breaths.

“Close the gates! Evacuate everyone into the underground shelters!” Qian Heling, the governor of Nanjiang City, howled atop the city walls. His official cap was askew, and his forehead was slick with cold sweat. “Hurry! Hurry!”

But deep down, he knew it was all futile.

Nan’an City’s underground shelters could only hold a million people at most, yet the city had five million. More critically, the attack method of this half-step tenth-rank demon wasn't physical impact—it was an entity of dark energy, and its true killing method was devouring souls.

The earth and stone of the shelters could block physical shockwaves, but they couldn’t stop the penetration of dark power.

The souls of five million people, in front of that black mountain, were like a banquet laid out on a table.

The soldiers stationed on the walls gripped their weapons, but their hands trembled. It wasn't fear of death—it was the instinctive terror humans feel when confronting power beyond comprehension.

The soldiers in the front ranks could already see the twisted demonic creatures writhing on the mountain’s surface and could hear the screams of countless mouths emanating from within.

Just then, a beam of golden light blazed from the northern horizon.

That light moved with such speed that it carved a straight golden line across the sky. At the vanguard of that line was a figure clad in a black dragon robe.

Wang Hao had arrived.

He stood in the void between Nan’an City and the black mountain, gazing up at that enormous, sky-obscuring peak. His face was utterly expressionless.

His imperial robes flapped noisily in the wind stirred by the dark pressure; the Thunder Abyss Demon-Subduing Tower on his crown rotated slowly, the silver-white lightning coiled around its tower now dim to near-invisibility—the Ninefold Demon Extermination Array had consumed most of the tower’s stored thunder.

The Heavenly Sword at his waist still hummed; the platinum-colored sword-glow on its blade, though faint, still blazed.

His true energy remained less than twenty percent, his national fortune power was more than half spent, and his people’s collective will was nearly gone.

Yet the stance he held there was as steady as a mountain.

“Wang Hao,” the voice of the Heavenly Sword rang in his mind, rare in its lack of sarcasm. “Time to fight to the death?”

“Mm.”

“How?”

Wang Hao didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down at Nanjiang City below.

From ten thousand zhang above, the city’s streets looked as orderly as the lines on a chessboard. He could see the dense crowds of people pouring into the underground shelters—their movements panicked but orderly. Mothers carried infants, the young supported the elderly, and soldiers stood at intersections directing traffic.

He also saw the young garrison soldiers atop the walls. They stared up at that falling black mountain, their faces etched with despair.

Then he noticed a mother holding an infant.

She stood at the edge of the crowd, stumbling and jostled. The baby in her arms was crying, its wail swallowed by the chaotic noise around them, but she still looked down and smiled at her child—a smile full of helplessness and terror. Yet she kept smiling, because she was a mother, and a mother must not cry in front of her child.

Wang Hao averted his gaze.

“Sword-bitch.”

“Present.”

“Your Majesty has done many shameless things in this lifetime. Scams, theft, extortion, taking advantage of disasters—I’ve done them all.”

His voice was so soft that only the Heavenly Sword could hear it.

“But there’s one thing I have never done—I have never let my subjects down.”

He took a deep breath and mobilized every shred of remaining power within him.

True energy, national fortune power, luck energy, and the people’s collective will fused together in his dantian.

His body began to emit light—not gold, not silver-white, but a color no one had ever seen before. It was the chaotic glow of the moment just before sunrise, grey tinged with gold, dark yet transparent—like the first ray of light at the dawn of creation.

“Today will be no different.”

With that, he charged upward, straight at the black mountain.

Not to defend—to attack.

First Palm of the Heaven-Seizing Earth-Covering Palm.

A golden palm print crashed into the base of the black mountain, and the resulting shockwave detonated a halo tens of miles wide in the sky. The mountain’s descent slowed by the barest fraction—just a hair’s breadth, like an ant pushing a tree.

Second Palm.

Third Palm.

Fourth Palm.

Palm after palm, each larger and more violent than the last. By the fourth palm, the print expanded to a thousand zhang, illuminating half the heavens with platinum light. Dozens of sinister runes on the mountain’s base were shattered by the blow.

Fifth Palm.

Sixth Palm.

Seventh Palm.

Three palms stacked together, the force coalesced to its utmost. The palm print was no longer the shape of a hand but had transformed into a giant hammer formed from pure power. The hammer struck the mountain’s base, but it slowed the mountain’s descent by less than half a percent.

Yet that half-percent was enough to let five million people in Nan’an City draw one more breath.

“Eighth Palm!”

Wang Hao bit through his tongue, spraying golden warrior-god blood onto his palm. He forcibly enhanced the palm’s power with his vital essence, elevating the eighth palm to the peak of the warrior-god realm. The palm print swelled to ten thousand zhang, the lines of the palm clear and vivid, each channel flowing with the transparent power of annihilation.

When this palm struck the mountain’s base, the entire peak trembled slightly. Thousands of sinister runes on the surface shattered, and rubble broke away—every chunk of stone imbued with terrifying dark force, crashing to the ground to form smoking pits.

But it wasn’t enough.

The mountain was too massive, too powerful, too terrifying. Its dark core was buried deep within that hundred-mile peak, protected by layer upon layer of demonic force. Eight consecutive strikes had only damaged its surface runes, never touching the core.

“Ninth Palm!”

Wang Hao squeezed out the last wisp of true energy from his body. The warrior-god foundation in his dantian developed fine cracks under the excessive extraction. But he had no time to worry—the ninth palm was the final and strongest palm of the Heaven-Seizing Earth-Covering Palm technique.

As he struck, heaven and earth changed color.

Ten-thousand-zhang golden palm prints shot upward, no longer in the shape of a single hand—it was nine hands stacked together, each layer containing the combined force of the previous eight.

Nine palms merged into one, one palm to hold up the sky.

When that palm struck the base of the mountain, the entire ground of Nanjiang Province trembled. The city walls of Nan'an cracked in more than a dozen places from the shockwave, and the Formation Disk of the city's protective grand formation let out a strained, agonized groan at the same time.

The mountain's descent slowed by thirty percent.

Thirty percent—this was the result Wang Hao achieved with all his strength.

After unleashing the ninth palm, his body fell toward the ground like a burned-out meteor. His imperial robe shattered during the fall, revealing his skin, now covered in cracks. His dantian was nearly drained from excessive extraction, the cracks on his Martial God foundation increased from three to thirteen, and the annihilation-law patterns in his meridians had dimmed to the point of being almost invisible.

"Wang Hao!" The Heavenly Sword let out a sharp, piercing ring, and a black humanoid form separated from the blade, catching Wang Hao's falling body in one motion. "Are you insane? One more palm and you'll die!"

"Can't die." Wang Hao grinned, his teeth stained with golden blood. "I am the Emperor. An Emperor cannot just up and die. How much distance is left?"

The Heavenly Sword looked up at the black mountain still falling overhead. "You slowed it by thirty percent, but it's accelerating again. At most, a hundred breaths—a hundred breaths and it will crash into the center of Nan'an."

"A hundred breaths." Wang Hao closed his eyes, quickly assessing his condition. Qi was exhausted, seventy percent of the national Fate Force was consumed, the people's willpower was almost entirely spent, the stored lightning in the Thunder Abyss Demon-Suppressing Tower was less than twenty percent, and the Heavenly Sword's blade aura had weakened by more than half due to his own depleted Qi.

He had only two trump cards left.

The first—National Fate Body Protection. It could block a fatal blow, but only for himself, not for Nan'an.

The second—the Check-In System.

With a thought, the system panel unfolded before his eyes. It showed that Nan'an had one check-in point—the last major city in the Eastern Wastelands where he had yet to check in. He had saved it deliberately, intending to use this card at the most critical moment.

"System, check in."

[Ding! Host has successfully checked in at Nan'an!]

[Obtained special item: The Ten Thousand Hearts Lantern (one-time consumable)]

[The Ten Thousand Hearts Lantern: Fueled by the willpower of ten thousand people, it can be lit to summon a protective light formed by the condensed will of the people. The strength of the protective light is proportional to the number of living beings within range and their trust in the host. The greater the number of beings and the higher the trust, the stronger the protective light. Current usable range: Nan'an City and surrounding areas. Current potential fuel: 5.3 million living beings. Estimated protection strength: Unknown.]

[Ding! Detected host in an extremely dangerous state, triggering an urgent intelligence update!]

[Intelligence update: The strange core of the black mountain 'Ten Thousand Demons Mountain' is located deep within the 87th layer of the mountain's inner strange domain. The exterior of Ten Thousand Demons Mountain is protected by 77,777 ominous runes, among which there is a primary rune connecting all the branches. This primary rune manifests once every three hundred breaths, positioned three li east of the exact center of the mountain's base. A peak Martial God's full-force strike aimed at that primary rune can briefly disable the mountain's defensive system. Duration of paralysis: ten breaths.]

[However, someone must sacrifice their life to lure away the guardian strange beings around the primary rune. There are eight guardians in total, all at level nine, mindless puppets that will instinctively attack any living thing approaching the primary rune.]

Wang Hao’s eyes snapped open.

He glanced at the black mountain still falling above, then at Nan'an beneath him, and finally at the Ten Thousand Hearts Lantern he had just received—a plain, ordinary-looking oil lamp, its wick empty, its base made of bronze with no patterns or decorations.

But when he sank his mind into the lantern, he felt a power unlike anything before.

It was the fear, despair, hope, faith, and trust of 5.3 million people—all their emotions intertwined into a strength capable of lighting up the eternal night.

He raised the Ten Thousand Hearts Lantern above his head.

"I am Wang Hao, Emperor of the Great Xia." His voice was not loud, but every word reached the ears of everyone in Nan'an. "There is a mountain about to fall on you. I need your trust—do you trust me?"

Nan'an fell silent for three full breaths.

Then, a child’s voice rang out.

It was a little boy standing on the street, about seven or eight years old, holding a stick of candied hawthorn in his hand. He looked up at the golden figure glowing in the sky and called out in a childish voice: "It’s Your Majesty!"

He recognized Wang Hao—half a year earlier, when Wang Hao left the capital to embark on his western campaign, he had passed through Nan'an and handed out candy on the street. This boy had been at the front of the line, and Wang Hao had personally given him three sticks of candied hawthorn.

"Your Majesty will protect us!" the boy shouted, holding up his candied hawthorn.

Then his mother shouted as well: "Long live Your Majesty!"

Then the entire street joined in, then the whole city, and then five million people—5.3 million voices merged into a deafening roar that shook the heavens.

"Long live Your Majesty!"

"Long live the Great Xia!"

"Long live the Eastern Wastelands!"

On the wick of the Ten Thousand Hearts Lantern, a faint glimmer of light appeared.

That light was weak, like a speck of dust. But then, a second spark lit up, a third, a tenth, ten thousand—5.3 million sparks rose from every street, every building, every heart in Nan'an, like 5.3 million fireflies dancing in the air.

The sparks gathered on the wick of the Ten Thousand Hearts Lantern, and the lamp ignited.

The flame turned into a golden shield, spreading outward in all directions with Wang Hao at its center.

The shield enveloped the entire city of Nan'an—its walls, streets, houses, and its people—everything was under its protection.

The black mountain crashed down onto the shield.