Chapter 64: Gun God

Li Xia walked slowly down the main street of Dale, holding his long spear upside down. His combat boots made a crisp, echoing clink against the paved stone road.

He was currently clad in the prized treasures of the Lonely Mountain dwarves. Before Smaug claimed Erebor, the dwarves here forged all manner of exquisite artifacts for the entire continent.

This yet-unnamed armor had been custom-made by the former Steward of Gondor for his heir. Because it was blended with a substantial amount of mithril, the armor achieved a defense tier of 4 while remaining significantly lighter than heavy armor of equivalent protective value.

The center of the helmet extended down into a nasal guard, leaving almost nothing exposed except his eyes.

The stingy Thorin had repeatedly emphasized that this precious suit of armor was merely being 'lent' to Li Xia for his use, and was by no means a gift.

It was a pity for this brilliantly blue mithril armor; Li Xia reckoned that taking it away would cost a massive amount of 'money' (contribution points).

It was not that the Sanctuary was reluctant to part with it, but rather that every piece of equipment capable of being brought out of a world was inherently precious, let alone the fact that such gear had to accompany apostles as they traversed different worlds—a process requiring the Sanctuary to expend resources for tagging.

Only equipment that was already famous or imbued with the power of a world could be taken out without consuming, or with consuming very few, Sanctuary resources.

This also demonstrated from another perspective just how practical a function the high-value item detection halo bestowed by transcendence truly was: find it, and you can take it!

The heavy stone gate slowly rose under the action of the winch. The Orcs, who were preparing to breach through other gaps, froze for a moment before charging toward this entrance in a frenzy.

The three-to-four-meter-wide road could not accommodate a large number of Orcs, forcing them to compress their formation into rows of three or four, holding their weapons high as they charged forward.

The Orc at the very front shouted in excitement. Human flesh smelled far better than dwarf meat; as he glanced at Li Xia standing in the center of the road, his eyes were inevitably drawn to that shining suit of armor.

His dimwitted brain failed to process anything amiss about the situation, instead immediately giving rise to the most primal of desires: he wanted that armor.

Yet the very next second, the human abruptly raised his hand. The Orc caught only a flash of cold light before his smile stiffened upon his face.

Li Xia pulled his long spear out effortlessly. Crimson blood dripped down the fuller, the blade remaining as clean and bright as new, untainted by a single trace of blood.

His breathing circulated naturally in the pattern of inhalation and exhalation. On the battlefield, endurance was required rather than a momentary burst of power.

Nothing was more suitable than a breathing technique that emphasized endless continuity.

With a forward thrust and a gentle retraction of his right hand holding the spear, a mere instant was all it took for blossoms of blood to bloom across the foreheads of the Orcs in the front row.

The Night Silence spear, with its attack strength of 3, was exceedingly sharp; Li Xia had not even felt much resistance when stabbing through them.

"Kill him! (Orcish)"

"Charge! (Orcish)"

The Orcs paid no heed to the demise of their comrades; they had always been this way. Individually, an Orc was not even a match for an ordinary human.

They were accustomed to relying on the deaths of their companions to buy victory, accustomed to seeing enemies far superior to them eventually collapse in terror and despair at the feet of the Orcs they looked down upon.

And their numbers were immense!

The sun gradually slanted westward, its light taking on a crimson tinge, as if soaked in blood.

The blade of Night Silence reflected the light as though ablaze. Accompanied by Li Xia's continuous thrusting motions, blooming flowers of blood unfolded across the sky above the narrow road.

Li Xia maintained the rhythm of his breathing, focusing solely on thrusting the long spear out and pulling it back in.

Every single action he took was meant to ensure that when the city finally fell, he would not have to face a massive, overwhelming siege by hordes of Orcs.

Every time three or four Orcs rushed up, it was the most comfortable rhythm. The faint, tearing sound of the spear tip of Night Silence piercing flesh inexplicably intoxicated him somewhat.

Compared to needing to swing and slash with a blade, the simple motion of thrusting out and retracting was infinitely more concise and energy-saving.

The corpses of the Orcs piled up, blood flowing from their bodies and gradually pooling together, first trickling along the gaps in the paving stones.

Once the blood filled the available crevices nearby, it finally overflowed, spreading a layer of red across the stone ground.

Gradually, the red expanded, connected, and became a pool of blood.

The Orcs still showed no sign of fear. The rich stench of blood continuously stimulated their underdeveloped brains, leaving their small eyes filled with a red glow of extreme frenzy.

Treading upon the corpses of their companions, their filthy, bare feet splashed into the pool of blood with a pattering sound as they roared and charged forward.

Li Xia continued his focused stabbing, seemingly unaffected by everything before him.

Even his eyes were unfocused, as if losing their center, yet the long spear in his hand grew increasingly steady. When thrusting forward, it moved with a fairy-like lightness, appearing slow and completely devoid of any brute force.

Yet this very slowness allowed the spear to precisely and unerringly pierce every single charging Orc.

When he withdrew it, the motion was even softer. Pinching the shaft with his thumb and middle finger and pulling backward, the spear slipped out from the Orc's skull without a trace of mortal smoke, flinging off a few droplets of blood in the process.

Before these few blood droplets could fall to the ground and merge into the bloody pool, the blood splattered from yet another Orc had already arrived.

Behind him, six summoned Lake-town archers drew their bows and nocked their arrows, unleashing volleys of arrow rain to exhaust their utmost effort in completing the task assigned by Li Xia.

They helped their master thin out the charging Orcs, sparing him from facing an overwhelming multitude of enemies with excessive urgency and pressure.

Gradually, Li Xia seemed to enter a strange state; everything in his world seemed to vanish.

All around was a deep darkness, leaving only himself and the enemies before him. Absolute silence reigned, save for the sound of his own clear breathing.

Every cycle of inhalation and exhalation was so soothing, the actions of thrusting and retracting the spear blending in perfect harmony with the rhythm of his breath.

A spear... what is it?

The question popped up abruptly in Li Xia's mind, and he focused entirely on pondering it.

As he kept thrusting and thrusting, the long spear in his hand seemed to acquire a life of its own; the shaft contracted and expanded, as if breathing along with him.

The spear could not speak, but it seemed to be telling him something.

The seemingly endless enemies before his eyes suddenly vanished. Li Xia raised his head in a daze, only to see that those short figures had retreated and cowered in the background at some unknown point.

They were shouting something, when a shadow far taller and larger than them abruptly barged into his world.

For some reason, Li Xia felt a trace of disappointment. He felt that the way things were before was quite good, with those short figures continuously charging forward like a perfectly coordinated performance with him.

He lowered his head to look at the long spear in his hand. Night Silence remained as it was, seemingly having stopped breathing again.

The towering figure roared, charging toward him with peerless momentum.

"Thump—thump—thump—thump—"

The drum-like sound made his ears ache. Li Xia raised his head, looking dazedly for the source of this inexplicable vibration.

He saw that right at the chest of the rapidly approaching giant silhouette, something crimson was violently beating.

"Thrust it out—"

The voice in his mind spoke once more.

"What?"

"Thrust it out, with all your might, thrust me out!"

Within Dale, Li Xia, who had been standing there with a dazed expression, suddenly parted his lips slightly.

"Hiss!"

A massive volume of air mixed with a pungent, heavy stench of blood rapidly filled his chest.

Li Xia lifted his left foot high, paused in mid-air, and then slammed it down fiercely onto the ground.

His iron-studded combat boot struck the floor like a warhammer, instantly shattering the paved stones beneath into pieces.

A thin scar rapidly manifested between his brows.

Like a muffled clap of thunder exploding in a clear blue sky, the spectator apostles, long since shocked into numbness, had never imagined that a thrusting long spear could produce such a terrifying, shrill screech.

The shaft of Night Silence came alive, humming intensely as it drove straight into the troll's abdomen.

The surrounding flesh and blood burst apart under the terrifying force, and the flying blood mixed with fragments of flesh and organs like a terrifying shower of gore.

Li Xia slowly raised his head, feeling his heart brimming with joy.

A spear... what is it?

A spear... is pressing ever forward without turning back.

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