Endless

Wang Hao glanced back at the densely packed wounded soldiers as he walked out of the military infirmary.

The golden blood of the Dragon Clan had soaked through the sackcloth beneath the stretchers, casting a dim golden glow under the oil lamps.

A young Dragon Clan soldier lay in the corner, his chest pierced through with a gaping hole by a grotesque tentacle, while a Dragon Clan healer used secret dragon arts to staunch the bleeding. The soldier did not groan, only clenched his jaw so hard that the veins on his forehead bulged.

Wang Hao averted his gaze and strode toward the harbor.

Out on the sea, the bizarre wreckage was still bubbling with black gas. The water had been stained a murky green, and the air reeked of a nauseating stench of decay. But further out on the surface, new dark spots were gathering—another wave of low-ranked abominations rising from the deep, waiting for their next chance to strike.

"Endless," Wang Hao muttered under his breath.

The second wave of the abomination tide began at dawn.

This time, it was not three fronts—it was five.

Five rank-eight abominations surfaced simultaneously along different points of the southern coast, each leading tens of thousands of low-ranked horrors, charging from five directions at the coastal towns of Great Xia.

Beyond Haifang Harbor, Linhai County, and Zhennanguan, the city of Nan'an and a small port called Baisha Town also came under attack.

Wang Hao stood atop the walls of Zhennanguan, staring at the sky-darkening black tide on the southern sea. The smile on his face finally faded.

"Five rank-eight abominations, fifty thousand low-ranked horrors." The Demon Lord's voice came from behind him, his black, vortex-like eyes swirling with grim unease.

"Your Majesty, this is no coincidence. That half-step rank-ten is wounded, but it still has the strength to drive the low-ranked horrors forward. It's using their lives to wear down our defenses—once our spirit stone reserves run dry and our soldiers are exhausted, it will strike personally."

"I know." Wang Hao's voice was calm.

"But there's one question I still haven't answered—what is its goal? What does it gain from draining our defenses? It needs to devour the souls of the living to break through to rank-ten. Wearing down our defenses alone won't feed it any souls."

The Demon Lord paused for a moment, then spoke a guess that weighed heavy on everyone's hearts:

"It's waiting. While we scramble to defend every front, it will slip around Zhennanguan's line from the depths of the South Sea and strike directly at Nan'an City behind us. Nan'an holds five million people—more than all the coastal towns of the south combined."

Wang Hao's pupils contracted slightly.

Nan'an City.

The city he had protected just ten days ago with the Ten-Thousand-People Heart Lantern.

The willpower of five million three hundred thousand people was still nourishing his cultivation foundation within him, and the flame of that lantern still burned in his sleeve. If that half-step rank-ten abomination slipped past Zhennanguan, past Haifang Harbor, past every defensive line, and lunged straight for Nan'an—

"It can't do it." Wang Hao spoke suddenly. "Going around every defensive line takes time, and we're not going to give it any."

He turned to the Demon Lord: "Demon Lord, how long until your Dark Legion arrives?"

"The vanguard of fifty thousand has already passed Nan'an City. Estimated two hours to reach Zhennanguan. The main force of another fifty thousand is further behind—earliest tomorrow."

"No waiting. Send the order—the vanguard fifty thousand heads straight to Nan'an City to set up defenses. Tell the commanding officer, if Nan'an falls, I'll take his head."

"Your servant obeys."

Wang Hao turned to Wei Zhongxian: "Old Wei, send word to Xiao Chen. Have him pull ten guards' worth of troops from the mining operation and march overland back to reinforce the southern frontier. The mines can wait—if we lose our lives, nothing else matters."

"Your servant obeys."

Finally, he looked down at the Heavenly Sword at his waist.

"Sword-bitch, done digesting?"

The Heavenly Sword let out a humming ring, its voice brimming with restrained battle lust: "Done digesting ages ago. When do we start fighting?"

"Now."

Wang Hao drew the sword from its sheath, the golden sword-light burning on the blade like a newborn sun in the morning glow.

He looked south at the dark tide closing in across the sea, and the bright smile crept back onto his face.

"Five rank-eight abominations. Sword-bitch, how many can you take?"

"Three." The Heavenly Sword's voice was certain. "This master is ranked one hundred and fourteen now, rank-eight abominations are nothing but fodder before me. But more than three gets a bit tricky—not that I'd lose, but I'd get bogged down. And if I'm bogged down, I can't devour the rest."

"Then I'll take two." Wang Hao flexed his wrist. "My wounds are ninety percent healed. Two rank-eight abominations shouldn't be a problem."

"Your wounds—"

"I said, ninety percent healed." Wang Hao cut him off. "The last ten percent doesn't affect fighting. I'll heal the rest after the battle."

He launched himself into the air from the city wall.

The Demon Lord, Yue Ji, Feng Wanli, Ghost Granny, Yin Jiuyou, and Xue Wuhen—six sect masters followed close behind. Han Shanyue and He Lanyue each led a squad of Martial God realm experts, striking out simultaneously from Haifang Harbor and Linhai County.

This was the first time the Eastern Wilderness had taken the offensive on the South Sea battlefield.

Not defending. Attacking.

Wang Hao's target was the farthest rank-eight abomination due south.

It was a colossal pitch-black demonic octopus, each of its eight tentacles over a thousand spans long, covered in suckers the size of bowls, each sucker lined with rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Its core body was hidden at the center of the eight tentacles—a writhing black mass of flesh dotted with hundreds of eyes of varying sizes.

Rank-eight pinnacle—a single step away from rank-nine.

"This one's mine." Wang Hao said to the Demon Lord behind him. "You all handle the others."

"Your Majesty, your wounds—"

"I said, ninety percent healed."

The Demon Lord said no more. He led Yue Ji and the others, splitting off toward the rank-eight abominations in the other directions.

Wang Hao faced the demonic octopus alone, hovering a hundred spans above the sea.

All eight tentacles lashed out at him at once, suckers gaping open, teeth scraping together in a piercing screech. Each tentacle came from a different trajectory, sealing off every avenue of escape from eight directions.

"Not bad."

Wang Hao did not dodge. Instead, he raised his left hand, a ball of silver-white lightning crackling in his palm.

The Thunder Abyss Demon-Suppressing Tower flew from his sleeve and expanded to a hundred spans tall above his head.

The silver-white lightning coiling around the tower had been fully recharged after ten days of absorbing the South Sea's thunderous energy, and the lightning reserves in all nine tower gates had been restored to pre-battle levels.

"Eighth gate—open."

The eighth gate swung open, and a lightning phoenix burst forth, its wings spanning three hundred spans, wreathed in devastating silver-white thunder. The phoenix spread its wings and shot toward the octopus's eight tentacles. Thunder met flesh, crackling with electric hisses.

The octopus's tentacles shuddered violently under the phoenix's assault. Its suckers were scorched black by the lightning, and the teeth within them rattled loose and fell away.

But its regeneration was formidable—the burned suckers regrew within a few breaths, the new ones larger and denser than before.

"Peak of the eighth level, recovery speed is indeed much stronger than an ordinary eighth-level." Wang Hao nodded. "Then I'll use something stronger."

He formed hand seals with both hands, and the profound energy within him surged wildly.

Prison-Suppressing Heaven-and-Earth Palm, Fifth Palm.

A golden palm imprint descended from the sky and slammed onto the body of the grotesque octopus.

The moment the palm strike landed on that mass of black flesh, the hundreds of eyes on its surface burst simultaneously, with black, pus-filled blood spraying from the sockets.

The grotesque octopus let out a piercing shriek, and all eight tentacles retracted at once, shielding its main body behind a barrier formed by the tentacles.

The tentacle barrier was over a hundred zhang thick. Each tentacle was entwined with dense, bizarre energy, forming an impenetrable defense.