Slaying God: I, the insane and witty god

Chapter 771 Discussion

The moonlight was stained dark by the blood.

The wound on Wang Mian's chest was still oozing blood, and dark red blood beads flowed down along his ribs, leaving star-like marks on the bluestone slabs.

He looked down at the ball of golden light in his palm, which was like holding a small sun, illuminating even his wounds.

The power of the Shenxu Realm was surging in his blood vessels. He could even hear the slight crackling of his bones, like the crisp sound of new branches sprouting from an old tree.

"Don't just stand there." Wu Hen's voice was like a piece of iron tempered by ice water. He reached out and pulled off the hem of his windbreaker, tearing it into strips in a few seconds.

"Tie the wound first."

"The Shenxu Realm isn't made of iron. If you bleed too much, you'll fall down anyway."

Wang Mian didn't take the cloth strip. Instead, he curled his lips and said, "Your method... is even cruder than when I was selling drugs on the black market."

As he spoke, he pulled the strip of cloth over himself and frowned as he rubbed the wound with his fingertips.

It wasn't that it hurt, but I was shocked by the heat. The power of the Shenxu Realm was flowing out of the wound, making the blood hot.

Lin Qiye suddenly said, "He's awake."

The swirling eyelashes trembled like butterfly wings blown by the wind.

When the boy opened his eyes, the first thing that caught his eye was Lin Qiye's cold and hard face. He was so frightened that he instinctively wanted to struggle.

But Lin Qiye grabbed his shoulders and said, "Don't move."

There was ice in the voice.

"Brother Qiye?" Xuanxu's voice was hoarse, and his eyes suddenly widened when he saw Wang's face.

"Uncle Wang Mian, why is your chest glowing?"

Wang Mian glanced down and smiled, "This is called the Divine Ruins Realm, little bastard. It's much more impressive than your half-baked mediumship."

He reached out and rubbed Xuanwo's head, but his movements were as light as touching a snowflake.

“Does it hurt?

I will take back the curse that Hongyue's gang cast on you."

"Wang Mian." Wu Hen suddenly pressed his wrist.

The man placed his fingertips on his pulse, his brows furrowed, "The spiritual energy in your body is as chaotic as a crushed honeycomb.

You are too hasty to break through the God Ruins Realm. The aftereffects will be enough for you to suffer for half a month."

"It's better than being trampled under the feet of the Red Moon people."

Wang Mian shook off his hand and stood up, bringing with him a gust of wind.

The wind blew the long scabbard on Lin Qiye's back, and the red rope cast an afterimage in the moonlight.

He moved his shoulders and heard the joints make a popping sound. "Besides—"

He tilted his head and looked into the distance, where the roar of the monster beast was gradually fading away.

"I can smell the stench of Red Moon from three miles away now.

If they dare to come, they will be a perfect opportunity to practice their skills.”

Lin Qiye suddenly stuffed the vortex into Wu Hen's arms.

The young man exclaimed and was caught steadily by Wu Hen.

Lin Qiye drew his long sword with his backhand. The sound of the sword was like a snake spitting out its tongue, cutting through the silence of the night. "I'm going to the east."

He says,

"Hongyue followed me for three blocks, but just now I was hiding at the entrance of the alley and didn't dare to move."

"Leave two alive."

Wu Hen held the vortex in one hand, and with the other hand he took out a bronze talisman and spun it rapidly at his fingertips.

“We need to ask them why Hongyue suddenly attacked Xuanwo.

That kid has just started to learn psychic mediumship, so there is no need to bother the old man in the God Ruins Realm to do it himself.

Wang Mian suddenly laughed, his voice a little hoarse like a broken gong: "Old Wu, when did you become so fussy?

Back when you were chopping corpses in the mass grave, you were much more ruthless than you are now."

As he spoke, he walked in the opposite direction of Lin Qiye, and each step he took made a shallow pit on the bluestone slab.

"I'm going to the west. There's a foul smell over there, like the corpse puppets raised by Hongyue."

"Wang Mian!" Wu Hen called him.

The man paused and turned his head. Moonlight streamed in from behind him, casting his outline in a dark gold.

"Seventy percent of the Whirlpool's life sea was burned by the curse." Wu Hen said, his voice as deep as a piece of lead.

"The Demon Suppression Division's secret medicine can only keep him alive. We need to find a psychic medium to transfer spiritual energy to him."

He lowered his head to look at the boy in his arms. Xuanwo was biting his lips to hold on, but the corners of his eyes were red.

"That guy Bu Li... should still be in the dilapidated temple in the south of the city."

Wang Mian said nothing.

He touched the short knife at his waist - it was the blade that Uzumaki had tempered for him using psychic techniques last month.

On the scabbard, there was still the young man's crooked engraving of "Exclusive for Uncle Wang Mian".

He looked up at the moon. The red moonlight had dimmed a little, like a ball of blood that was about to burn out.

"I'll go get Bu Li." He said,

"If that old guy dares to act arrogantly...I'll tear down his broken temple."

Lin Qiye's sword was already three inches out of its sheath.

The knife light reflected in his eyes, shining like two poisoned swords: "Meet at the back door of the Demon Suppression Division in half an hour."

"I understand." Wu Hen responded.

He lowered his head to help Xuanwo sort out his blood-stained hair, and his voice suddenly softened, "Cry if it hurts, little brat."

"Your uncle Wang Mian and brother Qiye have never complained about anyone crying."

Uzumaki said nothing, but buried her face in his arms.

Wu Hen could feel the boy's tears seeping into his shirt, burning him.

The sound of Lin Qiye's sword could be heard in the distance, followed by the miserable howls of the monster.

Wang Mian's back had melted into the darkness, leaving behind only a series of footprints of varying depths, like a row of nails driven into the ground.

Wu Hen looked up at the sky. The red moon was still there.

The wind blew over, carrying the smell of blood.

He carried Xuanwo towards the Demon Suppression Division, his boot heels knocking against the bluestone slabs, making a crisp sound.

That was the sound of life, the sound of them still moving forward.

"Let's go," he said.

"go home."