Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel

Chapter 584: Welcome Party Out Of The Fog

They all followed without question, though Carla and Hunter couldn’t help but glare at Manu with burning hatred. Chiron’s servants were fiercely loyal, even unto death—a loyalty that wasn’t easily broken.

As they moved forward, the fog behind them closed like a heavy curtain, sealing the battlefield in eerie silence.

Emerging from the mist, something extraordinary occurred across the world. A gold-rank cultivator had been born, and the entire world felt its presence. Every gold-rank cultivator, from the demon mother to the Seer, both stationed in their distant castles, turned their attention toward this new power.

Alarmed by this, the demon mother rushed to her boiling pot of blood. She waved her hand over it, trying to confirm what she sensed. The blood swirled and morphed, forming the image of a massive snake with six eyes—three on each side—and wings extending from its back.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the Holy Land, the Seer gazed into her mirror. Her brows furrowed in concern as she saw the same image.

Both the demon mother and the Seer recognized this presence—the very existence that had once brought the world to its knees and should have been long dead.

Manu Madayaki glanced up at the sky, a broad, sinister smile spreading across his face. "Ah, look at them," he mused. "As beautiful as gutter mud nurturing lilies on the surface. I may have been imprisoned, but that doesn’t mean the affairs of the outside world escaped my notice. Unfortunately for you, neither can leave your imprisoned castles. If you could, I wouldn’t be able to show myself so brazenly. But I invite you to have a front-row seat to the revenge I bring with my wrath."

His eyes glowed ominously, and with a mere thought, the Seer’s mirror shattered into shards, while the demon mother’s pot of blood exploded violently, sending crimson liquid splattering across her chamber.

The demon mother scowled, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Impossible! How... how is that idiot still alive?"

The Seer, equally shocked, mirrored her thoughts.

Suddenly, Manu stumbled, dropping to one knee as a powerful pull within his body overtook him. Ten thousand years of imprisonment in a cardinal zone had inevitably altered his soul, and now that he possessed a body, primal urges surged through him. He felt a potent desire rising within him, one that demanded satisfaction.

He glanced down, feeling the unmistakable stir of arousal. Turning slightly, he eyed Carla and the female Orc chief with an unsettling hunger. Either one would do to satiate his sudden craving for sexual satisfaction.

But before he could act on this desire, voices rang out ahead.

"They came out! People actually came out of the Fog of Unbounded Desires! Sound the alarm!"

A loud clamor erupted as a battalion of soldiers came into view. Most wore white robes adorned with crosses on their chests, standing alongside soldiers from the Vandorian Kingdom. They were armed with an array of weapons, including Tesseracts that appeared more advanced than those Manu remembered from the past.

Hunter didn’t pause—he moved to the next target with a terrifying hunger, his maw snapping shut on another victim’s neck, tearing through flesh and bone as if it were nothing more than paper. Blood sprayed across the battlefield, coating the ground in a slick, crimson sheen.

Carla, still fueled by rage and agony, was a blur of obsidian claws and raw power. She moved with lethal grace, her claws slashing through the air with deadly precision.

A soldier raised his weapon in a futile attempt to defend himself, but Carla was too quick. Her claws sliced through his throat, and in one fluid motion, she twisted his head off his shoulders. T

he head rolled to the ground, eyes wide in terror, as Carla moved on to her next victim. Her claws gleamed with the blood of the fallen as she hacked through another soldier’s chest, ripping him apart in a shower of gore. Her eyes, glowing with a mix of pain and fury, never left Manu’s figure.

The female orc, wielding her weapon with brutal efficiency, was a force of pure, unbridled savagery. She targeted the men’s most vulnerable area with vicious intent.

Her weapon, a jagged blade designed for maximum carnage, sliced through flesh and bone as she drove it into her victim’s groin, creating grotesque, gaping wounds where their genitalia once was. The men screamed in agony, their voices choking off as blood poured from their mutilated bodies.

The orc’s face twisted into a cruel grin as she watched them writhe in pain, relishing in the suffering she inflicted. She was not one that liked the fact that she had been forced to serve against her will, but she was an Orc and their kind were not on friendly terms with humans in the first place.

Since there was literally nothing she could do about it, she had to fight till the very end.

The men in robes fought back, casting their techniques and the air was of different colors as they also attacked.

However, their attacks almost seemed to bounce off the bodies of their assailants. Of course this was a result Manu’s spiritual pressure that literally extended outward through out the battlefield.

Manu Madayaki was a gold rank cultivator. This was never a battle in the first place. If he wanted, with a wave of his hands, all these men would be dead. But he wanted those that he forced to follow him to vent a bit of their anger.

And then he reserved the opportunity for enjoying the chaos to himself.

Amidst this storm of blood and violence, Manu stood apart, watching the carnage unfold with chilling detachment. His eyes, cold and devoid of mercy, surveyed the slaughter with a calm that was unnerving in its intensity.

The screams of the dying, the stench of blood, the sight of bodies being torn apart—it was all a symphony of chaos to him, and he was its conductor. There was no satisfaction, no joy—only the cold, calculated gaze of a man who saw this massacre as a necessary step toward his greater purpose.

Manu’s lips curled into a faint, cruel smile as he watched his minions wreak havoc on the battlefield. This world, in all its chaos and brutality, would be reshaped—in his image.