Tarthocas: Chronicles of the Transmigrating Scribe Chapter 48: War and Destruction.

Read chapter 48 of Tarthocas: Chronicles of the Transmigrating Scribe by Bigmachine on NovelPedia.

In the Far North of The Continent, where icy winds howled across the barren landscape and snow covered the ground like a thick, white carpet, Xia Longwei stood. From the roof of his imposing castle, he viewed the vast expanse of men below him, soldiers gathered in perfect formation, their armour glinting under the pale northern sun. “Are these all of them?” he questioned, his voice sharp and clear, directed at the bowing figures behind him. “Yes, O Lord,” they replied in unison, voices trembling with a mix of fear and reverence. Xia Longwei remained silent, his gaze fixed on the legion before him. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint clinking of armour and the whistling of the wind. “They are enough to keep The Empire’s Army occupied for a while,” he finally said, nodding slightly. He turned his cold, calculating eyes toward the kneeling individuals behind him, the Sect Masters who had pledged their loyalty. “You guys are too weak, take this. It should buy a bit more time for me,” Xia Longwei remarked as he casually tossed a handful of beads toward the Sect Masters. The beads glowed faintly, almost pulsating with a strange energy. The 9 Sect Masters began to twitch as the beads embedded themselves into their skin, dissolving into their flesh and travelling through their veins like molten fire. Their bodies convulsed, muscles bulging and contracting as if being reshaped by an unseen hand. “Yeah, I’m not waiting for you guys to finish this,” Xia Longwei said impatiently, snapping his fingers with a casual flick. SNAP! In an instant, the bodies of the 9 Sect Masters blurred, images of them flickering in and out of existence, each one displaying a different moment in time. Their forms seemed to stretch and compress, reality warping around them as Xia Longwei’s power took hold. “That should be enough,” Xia Longwei said with a satisfied tone, snapping his fingers once more. SNAP! The Sect Masters froze, their bodies returning to a state of stillness. Xia Longwei’s power had ‘skipped the cutscene,’ accelerating the transformation he had initiated. “Grant us a name, O Lord,” the Sect Master of the Emerald Throne spoke, his voice now thin and brittle. The transformation had done quite a strange thing to the already old man—his once-glass like stature had withered, leaving him looking like a fragile twig that might break under the slightest pressure. “You can name yourselves.Now let's get going you lots!” Xia Longwei remarked as he raised his hands up in the air as Qi began to wrap around the entire army and The Sect Masters. Xia Longwei then clapped his hands, causing the entire army, along with the Sect Masters, to vanish into thin air. Silence filled the air, the only remaining presence being Xia Longwei himself, standing alone on the castle's roof, unmoving, his gaze distant. “So, is this how you want to end things?” a voice called out from beside him, breaking the silence. “Does it matter anymore? How does it all come to an end?” Xia Longwei replied in a bland tone, his expression unreadable. “The ends don’t specifically justify the means,” Xia Fugui’s voice countered, a hint of weariness seeping through. “A general may be the winner, but if he is the only one that remains, who will he lord over?” Xia Longwei stayed silent for a moment, his face a mask of indifference. Then he replied, his voice cold and detached, “Why do you even care enough to talk to me just moments before the war begins? No amount of talk is going to move my heart, and you know that very well.” “I care for you, my son,” Xia Fugui responded, his voice soft, almost pleading. Xia Longwei let out a bitter laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, that’s some shit acting right there. You never cared about a single one of your offspring! None of the Dragon Emperors ever did! You only had descendants because of your limited lifespan and nothing more. You might argue that you treat Weiyu like a son, but you don’t, and you know it. You see him as a friend, an advisor