manynovel Chapter 213 Incense Restores the Golden Body
Chapter 213 Incense Restores the Golden Body
The hallway was filled with the sound of running footsteps. Urgent calls came through the walkie-talkies. No one stopped to say hello.
The underground strategic meeting room is on level B7. Pushing open the door, a mingled smell of cold air and the bitter aroma of coffee hit you. The meeting room has no windows; all four walls are covered with screens. In the center of the room is a holographic sand table, larger than a basketball court. The red light from the sand table casts a bluish tint on people's faces.
The coastlines and borders at both the north and south ends of the sand table were covered in red dots. The battle damage data on the right screen scrolled by rapidly, making it impossible to discern the exact number of digits.
When Lu Yan entered, there were more than a dozen people in the conference room. Qin Wangshan, the operations director of the Dragon Guard headquarters, stood beside the sand table. His military uniform collar was buttoned all the way up, and he was twirling a pen in his hand. When he saw Lu Yan, Qin Wangshan stopped twirling his pen.
"They're here."
Without saying anything more, Qin Wangshan pointed directly to the sand table.
"In the northern border region, from the northern foothills of the Kunlun Mountains to Mohe, more than 20,000 high-dimensional creatures appeared within 72 hours."
Qin Wangshan drew a line at the north end of the sand table with his finger.
"On the southern route, 200 nautical miles east of Zengmu Reef, the main force of the Angel Legion is gathering, and its numbers are still increasing."
Qin Wangshan paused for a moment.
"Both lines operate simultaneously, with timing accurate to the second."
Lu Yan walked to the sand table. The red dots were denser than in the photograph. The red dots in the north seeped inland from the border, covering most of the ice field. The red dots in the south clustered together, forming an irregular circle on the sea. A white mark was flashing at the center of the circle. That was the location of the twelve-winged angel.
Zhao Leiguang glanced at the sand table behind Lu Yan, then swallowed back what he wanted to say. Xiao Qianyu leaned against the wall, watching the moving red dot on the sand table. Wen Yue squatted on the ground, disassembling the magazine of the Thunderclap Crossbow, her hands moving while her ears listened to the sounds coming from the other side.
"Good news."
Qin Wangshan pulled up another set of data from the sand table. A map of China popped up on the screen. The map was covered with countless golden dots. From Sichuan and Chongqing to Shaanxi, from Shandong to Guangdong, and then to Zhejiang and Yunnan. Each dot was labeled with the same word: Temple.
"Temples dedicated to Yang Jian and Nezha, popular folk religions, have been extensively rebuilt in the past 72 hours."
Qin Wangshan lowered his voice.
"It was built spontaneously by the people."
"In the mountainous areas of Sichuan and Chongqing, some villagers have cleared out their main rooms to set up memorial tablets for Yang Jian."
"In fishing villages along the Shandong coast, fishermen have erected shrines to Nezha at the docks."
"There are some things we haven't noticed, but the older generation has dug out the sacrificial rituals recorded in the family genealogy and followed them."
Qin Wangshan clicked on the live feed of one of the points of light. The feed showed a mud-brick house of less than ten square meters. Three incense sticks were burning inside, their smoke rising. On the altar was a hand-painted portrait of Yang Jian, rather rough, with three large eyes. An old woman with white hair knelt on a prayer mat, muttering something.
The scene shifts. The other temple is larger, a brick and tile building. The walls are painted with vibrant colors of Nezha riding his Wind Fire Wheels. A dozen or so men who look like fishermen are kneeling in a row, kowtowing.
"The power of faith is gathering."
Qin Wangshan turned off the screen and brought up the divine state diagrams of Yang Jian and Nezha. The two curves were rising, becoming increasingly steep.
"Their remnant souls have found new anchors and are beginning to materialize."
"At this rate, the two war gods can rebuild their physical bodies within 48 hours."
Someone in the conference room let out a sigh of relief. Zhao Lei slammed his fist on the table.
"Yang Jian is back? Really?"
No one paid any attention to Zhao Leiguang. However, the expressions on the faces of several people relaxed a little.
Lu Yan remained silent. He glanced down at his character panel. Under the "Black Lotus Zen Master" profession section, the skill icon was lit up: God-level War Aura. Lu Yan clicked on the details. The last time he applied the aura to Yang Jian and Nezha, they were still remnant souls. Remnant souls had a limit to the power they could bear. A hundredfold amplification would overflow when applied to a remnant soul. Now it was different. As long as Yang Jian and Nezha had physical bodies, the hundredfold amplification could be fully absorbed without any loss.
Lu Yan closed the panel and looked at Qin Wangshan.
"Once the physical body is reconstructed, the amplification effect of my aura on them will undergo a qualitative change."
Qin Wangshan awaits the next installment.
"In the remnant soul state, the amplification is capped at 100 times. Once a physical form is formed, this cap will be broken."
Lu Yan didn't finish his sentence. Qin Wangshan understood. As long as the two War Gods regained their physical bodies, Lu Yan could transform them into beings capable of crushing higher-dimensional projections. The conference room was silent for two seconds. Qin Wangshan nodded and turned to look at the sand table.
"Then we need to ensure they have 48 hours."
Qin Wangshan pointed his finger toward the northern border.
"The problem is, the north can't hold out for 48 hours."
The sand table zooms in. A live feed cuts to the northern border. On the icy plains. The sky is greyish-white, snowflakes falling horizontally. The scene is filled with monsters. Some have fox tails, others have horns on their heads. Some have flat faces, no features, just a mouth that splits to their ears. A hundred demons parade at night. These are higher-dimensional beings dressed in the skin of Japanese mythology. Their combat power is real.
The scene zooms in. On the icy plains, a group from a local guild is fighting desperately. This is Zhenbeilang, the largest civilian awakened guild in the north, mostly composed of veteran hunters from Northeast China and Inner Mongolia. They wear makeshift gear gathered from various places. Some wear B-grade leather armor, others carry C-grade rifles, and still others wield A-grade battle axes. Their equipment is uneven, but they are all pushing forward. Half of the shieldbearers in the front ranks have fallen. The spearmen in the back fill in, stepping over the corpses of their fallen comrades to continue stabbing.
A burly man with a buzz cut stood at the front of the line. He carried two battle axes, and his armor was torn in three places, with blood flowing from the gaps.
"That's Liu Beiwang, the chairman of Zhenbeilang," Qin Wangshan said.
In the scene, Liu Beiwang cleaved a six-legged fox monster in two with an axe. Before the monster's corpse hit the ground, three more pounced on it. Liu Beiwang took a half step back, and two shield-bearers stepped in front of him.
"They held out for 36 hours without any reinforcements."
Qin Wangshan tapped his fingers twice on the edge of the sand table.
"The 7th Division of the Northern Army Group will take at least 12 hours to get there."
"Zhenbei Lang has to bear these 12 hours on his own."
Zhao Leiguang watched for a while before asking a question.
"Could you airdrop us there?"
Qin Wangshan shook his head.
"The southern route is more urgent."
Scene changes. Southern sea. The seawater is dark red. A beam of light falls from the sky above the sea. Holy light. This is a real energy weapon. The beam of light strikes the sea, creating a water column tens of meters high. The water column falls back down, steaming. Several modified fishing boats from local guilds spin in the waves. The awakened ones on board fire rifles and crossbows into the sky. The bullets and crossbow bolts hit the angel's shield, bouncing off without disturbing it.
A four-winged angel swooped down. Its claws swept across the ship's side, breaking the entire vessel in two. The people fell into the Red Sea, struggled briefly, and then sank.
"Two of the defenses of the three folk associations in the south have been breached."
Qin Wangshan retrieved the data.
"The number of dead today is 472."
No one spoke in the conference room. The number on the screen paused for three seconds, then jumped again. Four hundred and seventy-three. Wen Yue loaded the magazine and stood up. She glanced at the screen but didn't say anything. She casually released the safety on the Thunderclap Crossbow.
Lu Yan looked at the sand table. The red dot in the north moved south. The red dot in the south moved north. Both lines were simultaneously contracting towards the heart of China. The timing was perfect. One in the south and one in the north launched their attacks at the same time. Someone was directing them from above.
"Minister Qin," Lu Yan asked, "is there a pattern to the offensive rhythm of these two lines?"
Qin Wangshan retrieved the timeline.
"Someone is coordinating these two armies," Lu Yan said. "The commander on Gaowei's side is one person."
Qin Wangshan frowned.
"you mean--"
"Amaterasu and the angel legions are under the same commander."
The meeting room fell silent. Qin Wangshan opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He turned to look at the sand table and tapped the northern border twice with his finger.
The image jittered. Static appeared on the screen. Something was interfering with the signal. The snow stopped in the video. The snowflakes hovered motionless in mid-air. Then, the snowflakes began to fly backwards, rising from the ground into the sky.
The men from Zhenbeilang stopped what they were doing. The camera was shaking. Lu Yan saw it. There was a silhouette deep in the snowstorm. It was very large.
Eight heads. Snake heads. Each head was larger than a tank, their necks coiled together, beneath which was a body whose full form was obscured. It was a phantom.
One by one, the Zhenbeilang warriors in the scene knelt down. Their legs went weak. Their bodies were pinned down.
The sound came from nearby. It was the sound of bones being chewed. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Chewing rhythmically.
The screen went black. Only static remained on the conference room screen. Liu Beiwang's voice squeezed out from the communication channel, broken and intermittent.
"Headquarters...the North...something...has come out..."