Dragon Heart: Land of The Enemy. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 8 Read online

  Einen, following Hadjar’s example, popped some pills into his mouth as well. Energy swirled around him. The armored ape picked up the Spear-staff Spirit.

  “Lower the barrier, Tom!” Einen roared, his voice as loud as waves crashing against a rocky shore.

  “You stupid-” Tom began berating them, but didn’t get to finish.

  With a wave of his hand, he pushed the two friends out of the safety of the barrier and placed his hand over Dora’s mouth. The shields were still there, but it didn’t matter.

  Einen and Hadjar stood in front of Anise, a sea of hungry specters spread out before them.

  “Half a second, my friend,” Einen said, and soared into the sky.

  Chapter 656

  T he ape mimicked Einen and spun its Spear-staff. What followed was an explosion, one akin to a barrel full of gunpowder going off. A ray of emerald light flooded everything. Shrinking to a single point, it landed on the tip of the islander’s spear-staff.

  “River Serpent’s Dance!” Einen shouted.

  A huge serpent emerged from behind him and struck the ground. Made out of green light, it was as wide as an adult man’s torso, and ten yards long. Each of its fangs was a spear, and each scale a blade. It smashed through their enemies like a battering ram and swallowed the ones unfortunate enough to get in its way. It was obvious how much using this Technique cost Einen — the glow of the ape’s iridescent armor gradually faded, and its silhouette blurred. Even so, the impact was still enough to slow down the hundreds of Spirits that had closed in around his friends.

  “What are you-” Anise started to ask, but Hadjar interrupted her.

  “I didn’t think I’d have to use this so soon.”

  He sat down in a lotus position, placing the Black Blade across his lap, then retreated into the depths of his soul. Passing through the darkness where the dragon and the Black Blade rested, he stopped in the middle of the vast valley covered with a carpet of green grass. Time passed slower here than in the real world. Even his appearance was different. His tattered clothes were gone, replaced by a simple but tidy gray robe, held in place by a scarlet rope around his waist that had a waterskin attached to it. His long, black hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a narrow leather strap. Instead of boots, he wore sandals. This was how he imagined himself.

  “Master,” he whispered and touched his forehead to the ground.

  In front of him, at the top of the hill, stood the empty boulder on which the dragon Traves, the last of the Dark Storm tribe, had once sat.

  Having paid his respects to his Master, Hadjar turned in the other direction, where a weak tree grew. It was no higher than his knee, but still strong enough to support the weight of the baby bird hidden in its canopy. The Quetzal bird, a symbol of freedom in orc culture.

  Hadjar leaned forward and held out his hand. The bird stopped grooming the underside of its wing and yawned. With a flutter of its wings, it jumped up onto his finger.

  “Will you help me, my Spirit?”

  The bird stared into Hadjar’s blue eyes, as if saying: Have I ever said no to you?

  “I’m not trying to force you,” he said. “There’s no worse fate than being forced to do something against your will. There’s nothing worse than being a slave to someone. I don’t want to be the master of Freedom.”

  The bird let out a shrill cry and flapped its wings, as if saying: A man born free can never become a slave.

  Hadjar laughed. The bird, although smaller than his finger, was every bit as tough and unyielding as he was.

  “I’ll lend you my power and you’ll lend me yours, okay?”

  The bird nodded.

  With a deep sigh, Hadjar reached for his Core. Lifting his hand toward the sky, he suddenly lowered it and pointed at the bird. The clouds parted and a stream of black energy streaked with blue entered the Spirit, making it grow. The Quetzal needed wings larger than the sails of the biggest ships to soar freely to the highest heavens, to face any storm with its head held high, and fight off even the strongest of winds. Its talons grew sharper than any blade, ready to tear apart those who dared to try and take away its freedom.

  A six-foot-tall bird spread its huge wings in front of Hadjar. With a high-pitched cry, it announced its arrival. It wrapped its tail around its friend’s waist and they soared into the sky together.

  ***

  Having spent almost all of his power, Einen slumped to the ground. Someone’s will caught him and dragged him back under the barrier.

  “What is that damned barbarian doing?” Tom shouted.

  “Only he knows,” Einen replied, far too calm for someone in his state.

  The golems, once they saw that the huge serpent was gone, continued toward their goal. Hadjar, who was still sitting in the lotus position, suddenly extended his hand. There was nothing unusual about this simple gesture, but a second later, the protective barrier around his friends began to quiver.

  “What the-”

  A column of energy shot out of Hadjar’s chest and pierced the clouds. Instantly expanding, it engulfed the cultivator completely. The sand began to ripple and swirl into the air.

  And then everything stopped. It was as if someone had called upon the wind only to dismiss it upon their arrival.

  A sudden, high-pitched cry filled the air. The pillar disappeared, leaving behind a giant bird hovering in the air. It had a wingspan of six feet, and its sharp talons looked as deadly as any weapon.

  “What is that? Some sort of artifact?” Dora whispered, dumbfounded.

  “It’s his Spirit,” Einen answered.

  “But that’s impossible! He’s just a Heaven Soldier!”

  “No.” Einen’s purple eyes flashed. “He isn’t a Heaven Soldier, he’s a fucking madman.”

  Still sitting in the lotus position, Hadjar raised his open palm toward the sky. The Black Blade immediately materialized in his grip, the blue hieroglyph adorning it shining brighter than the North Star.

  The bird let out another shrill cry. Flapping its wings, it suddenly dove into Hadjar’s back.

  “Holy shit!” Tom and Dora shouted in unison.

  They didn’t understand how Einen could arm his Call’s ape with his Spirit, but what Hadjar was doing… It went against everything they knew about the path of cultivation.

  Because they were shouting, they failed to hear the words that fell from Einen’s smiling lips.

  “Your ancestors are calling you, my friend. It’s a pity that you can’t hear their furious roars.”

  They also failed to notice Einen’s arms being covered in iridescent scales for a moment, which then disappeared in a flash of light.

  Hadjar rose to his feet and held out the Black Blade. The blue hieroglyph that adorned the obsidian blade now shone with a new light, depicting a bird soaring through the air majestically.

  “Black Wind,” Hadjar whispered softly, and made a single swing with his sword, detonating an invisible bomb in the air.

  The barrier quivered even more violently as a roar that could split the Heavens and tear the earth asunder reached it. Deep cracks spread out in all directions from the spot where Hadjar stood, greedily devouring the crumbling ruins and the Spirits that hadn’t managed to jump away in time. Gusts of wind as sharp as a sword whizzed through the air, conjured by the lingering energy of the attack. Although much weaker than Anise’s had been, it was far more violent.

  The Black Blade came to life. There was nothing that could stop it. It was as if it had freed itself from its mortal shackles and had reached the Seventh Heavens and the Jasper Palace already.

  The gigantic replica of the blade assumed the form of a dragon, the scales of which were decorated with the same patterns as the blade itself. Opening its mouth, it slammed into the Spirits with a thunderous roar, tearing apart and cutting through everything in its way. The Spirits disappeared one by one, until the Technique ran out of energy and the dragon disappeared.

  Covered in blood and terrible cuts, Hadjar managed to dest
roy almost thirty Spirits with a single attack before he fell to the ground. A bolt of white lightning rushed along the path that he had carved in their opponents’ ranks. Leaving a trail of fire in its wake, it took the form of a roaring tigress as it left their enemies far behind.

  Azrea threw her burden to the ground once she was far enough from the ruins. Only Einen and Hadjar remained on her back. The latter’s heartbeat had stilled.

  “By the Great Turtle!” Einen exclaimed. “You stupid barbarian!”

  Chapter 657

  T he simple task of opening his eyes seemed like a herculean effort. Hadjar felt like he was walking down a narrow corridor that had a sticky floor and constantly shrinking walls. It wanted him to stay there forever, but he rushed toward the light he could see ahead. Once he’d reached it, he immediately tried to move his legs and felt great relief when he found out that they would obey him. The experience was so similar to waking up from an anesthetic that, for a moment, he’d thought that he was back in the hospital room. High Heavens be praised, he wasn’t lying on white sheets, but on the hot sand of the Wastelands. There were no neon white lights above him, only the silvery glimmer of the stars. The air wasn’t filled with the sterile scent of antiseptic, but the warmth of the wind.

  The sound of crackling fire made him close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he found that he could barely breathe. It wasn’t that something was squeezing his chest, he just didn’t have much strength left in his body.

  “Don’t try to get up,” someone told him.

  Through the haze, Hadjar recognized Einen’s silhouette. Having placed numerous flasks all around him, he was now smearing their contents on his wounds.

  Hadjar looked at himself through the World River. He’d received minimal energy damage. The various training sessions he’d gone through over the past month and a half had certainly helped. If not for the Wolf Broth, the powder of the three-thousand-year-old fern, and the ‘Path Through the Clouds’ meditation Technique, he would’ve ended up a cripple at best. The way of interacting with one’s Spirit that the orcs had taught him was so powerful that it would’ve burned out his energy body. Hell, he would’ve probably died outright.

  On the other hand, he had suffered a lot of physical damage. No cultivator, no matter how strong they were, could survive a lot of blood loss or a wound to the heart. That was why there were Techniques for Strengthening the Body to go along with Meditation and Energy Body Techniques.

  “How’s-?”

  “She’s all right,” Einen interrupted him and applied more of the foul smelling ointment. “She has pills for these kinds of emergencies, unlike you, you mad barbarian.”

  With great difficulty, Hadjar turned his head toward the fire. Dora and Tom, looking much better than before, were drinking something from wooden bowls. They blew on the contents to cool them down and took small sips. The brew emanated concentrated healing energy. If a mortal or a mere practitioner were to drink something so potent, their death would be inevitable.

  Next to them sat Anise, shivering despite being wrapped up in a thick blanket. With trembling hands, she brought her bowl to her lips and sipped a richer concoction with an even more potent smell. Her energy body had suffered a lot more damage than his. Her main meridians had managed to recover, but the smaller ones resembled a spider web torn to shreds by the rain. They were even leaking little bits of the World River’s power. The broth was slowly but surely restoring her energy and strength. Whatever herbs had been put in it were working wonders for her.

  “I can’t… give any… to you,” she said to Hadjar, noticing him staring at her bowl.

  “My aunt made the broth,” Dora explained. “She gave some to all four of us but refused to make any for you because…”

  Dora stopped short. The Dinos siblings didn’t know about the fragment of the Enemy’s soul that resided within Hadjar. Fortunately for him, everyone was too tired to press the elf for more details.

  “What were those things?” Tom asked.

  Hadjar let out a sigh of relief, glad to see that they’d changed the topic. The conversation could’ve taken a far more awkward turn.

  “Remnants of the past,” Einen explained. “Spirits that humans coaxed into serving them.”

  “Are you aware of how strong one has to be to force a Spirit into submission?” Dora almost dropped her bowl in shock.

  “They also need very advanced and complex Techniques,” Tom added, “I’ve never heard of Lascanian or Darnassian armies using such creatures.”

  “There were hundreds of them,” Dora continued. “Or more…”

  “Many more.” Einen nodded.

  “That’s interesting…” Tom nodded, trying his best not to move his left arm as he drank. “No one’s ever heard of these creatures roaming the Wastelands.”

  Hadjar nodded in agreement. If the golems had been wandering the ancient ruins all this time, someone would’ve come across them before today. Over the thousands of years ‘The Holy Sky’ School had existed, the Wastelands had been ravaged by countless cultivators. While searching for old tombs, they’d explored most of it, but no one had brought any information about the Spirits back to the School.

  “Something woke them up.” Hadjar groaned.

  “Did it?” Tom drained his bowl in one gulp and tossed it into the fire. Any normal person would’ve smacked him for such an unnecessary display of wasteful arrogance. “It’s probably because the Masters recently brought the key and the map here. Demons and gods! What other creatures will we encounter? Don’t answer that! It was a rhetorical question!”

  “Is the mighty junior heir of the Predatory Blades clan scared?”

  Tom, surprisingly enough, didn’t react to Dora’s mockery. He’d somehow managed to reign in his volatile temper.

  For a while, they just sat in silence. Each of them thought about what other obstacles they might encounter.

  Lying on the sand, Hadjar stared at the stars, tormented by very bleak thoughts: if the key and the map had affected the Wastelands so much, what had happened to the Demon Gate?

  “Damn it all to hell,” he whispered.

  Only Einen, who was sitting close to him, heard his cursing.

  “Thank… you…” Anise suddenly said, still trembling. “I… owe… you…”

  Chapter 658

  “S ister!” Tom leapt to his feet. “You don’t owe this commoner anything!”

  “That commoner,” Dora said, “saved our lives!”

  “And he almost met his forefathers in the process! Hell, we owe our lives to the tiger, not him!”

  The now small Azrea was lying in the firelight. Basking in the warmth, she twitched comically in her sleep and yawned widely. She didn’t look like a ferocious Ancient Beast, but a pet kitten taking a nap.

  “The tigress is his,” Dora said.

  Azrea meowed.

  Hadjar smiled. He’d always suspected that the cub only pretended to be asleep, but was actually on high alert at all times.

  “All right, all right.” Dora waved her hands placatingly. “No need to get angry, you fearsome beast. You’re a free spirit.”

  Azrea meowed again and stared at the humans haughtily.

  “That doesn’t matter right now,” Tom murmured. He sat back down and looked at Hadjar through the flames. “I have two questions for you, barbarian.”

  Hadjar sighed heavily. He knew exactly what questions Tom would ask him. Unfortunately, since he’d been unconscious until recently, he hadn’t had the time to prepare.

  “What makes you think I’ll answer them?” He retorted. He wasn’t looking to start a fight, just buy himself some time to think.

  “Because you have no choice, barbarian!”

  “Tom!” Dora exclaimed. “You aren’t talking to a servant! He’s our ally!”

  However, judging by her tone, she was also interested in hearing what Hadjar had to say.

  “That’s exactly why I want to know what I can expect from him!”
/>   Dora fell silent. She was looking at Hadjar intently, as if it wasn’t Tom, but she herself who would be asking the questions.

  “I don’t see your Imperial investigator’s medallion anywhere, Tom.”

  “Don’t get cute with me, commoner,” the young man growled. “Your life isn’t worth shit to me. One more word-”

  “-and the entire Wastelands will echo with the clash of our blades,” Hadjar interrupted him. “Don’t forget that I’m wearing our School’s token too, just like you. Until we graduate, we’re equals.”

  Tom gritted his teeth and fell silent, not because he had nothing to say, but because of Anise’s insistent glare. Out of respect for his sister, he decided to leave Hadjar alone.

  Hadjar thought about the graduation ceremony. Anyone who reached the middle stage of the Lord level graduated with the token of distinction. Anyone who studied there for twenty years graduated without any honors or letters of recommendation. If they’d been inner circle disciples, they could get a recommendation from a Mentor or a Master. Most just received a letter that confirmed their rank on the Solid Earth or Jade Cloud list.

  “Let’s just do the same thing we did with Einen,” Dora suggested.

  Hadjar looked at them in confusion. Einen, on the other hand, ignored them, too busy treating his friend’s wounds.

  “He will swear an oath to us!” Tom shouted.

  “What oath?” Hadjar inquired.

  He had more than enough scars on his palm, left there by the World River as evidence of his many oaths.

  “That you’ll never tell anyone about my sister’s Spirit.”

  Hadjar let out a sigh of relief. He was well aware that such a thing could be a death sentence for Anise. Many people would either kill or force her to work for them if they found out about it.

  Anise had once been the eldest heiress of one of the seven great clans of the Empire. With her power, nobody knew what could happen when she reached the Nameless level. To regain her former position in the clan, all she’d have to do would be to swing her sword. Her power was so potent that even the Imperial throne would shake in awe of it. Would it even be possible to control or command a Nameless level, talented swordswoman who can summon a Primordial Spirit? And what if she achieved mastery over the Sword Kingdom? Then she could even dethrone the Emperor if she so chose.