Chapter Fifty-Two: The Calamity of Ferocious Beasts (Part Two)

The elders of the White Tiger Hall were thrown into utter chaos at the sudden news, their hearts trembling, each one casting uncertain and fearful glances at Elder Huyue standing at the center of the grand hall. Even if there was only the slimmest chance, none of them wished to believe that the ferocious beasts could awaken intelligence. Yet, the one who had delivered this earth-shattering calamity was none other than Elder Huyue—the intelligence elder who, in hundreds of thousands of years, had never once erred.

The already vast and desolate White Tiger Hall became as silent as the grave, not a sound breaking the suffocating stillness. Elder Huyue, with his head full of silver hair and an otherwise unremarkable appearance, looked impassively at the panic-stricken elders, though inwardly he lamented—had centuries of peace truly worn away the tiger clan’s fighting spirit?

The tigers had risen from the western desert, battling the myriad races of the land, and in the end ascended to lead the five great powers of the West, ruling supreme. In terms of individual strength, they were no match for the dragons, phoenixes, titans, and the like, lacking the absolute racial might of those lineages. Yet the tiger clan had managed to dominate the western wastes, standing shoulder to shoulder with the dragons, phoenixes, and qilins.

What was their secret? It was their innate lust for battle. The other races—dragons, phoenixes, qilins—though born powerful, lacked that inborn thirst for combat. Dragons, phoenixes, and qilins, lacking a warrior’s heart, grew weaker the more they fought against formidable foes. The tigers, on the other hand, drawing on their natural battle spirit, would only grow more valiant the deeper they found themselves surrounded by enemies, their courage becoming unstoppable.

But while the tiger clan was born with this fighting heart, it could not be fully unleashed by birth alone; to truly thrive amid a million-strong army, endless honing and tempering were still required. From their earliest days, tiger cubs were sent out to battle, continuing until they reached the rank of divine tiger, or demigod. For an ordinary cub, the rite of passage meant not only achieving the cultivation of a true tiger, or true god, but also slaying a hundred demigods, ten true gods, and escaping the assault of a lord god.

For the royal tiger cubs—such as the white tiger—the coming-of-age ritual demanded even more: to reach true god cultivation, slay a thousand demigods, a hundred true gods, and ten lord gods.

Thus, the tiger clan earned the title “lords of slaughter” among all the races. It was this relentless honing, coupled with their innate warrior’s heart, that allowed the tigers to rise from a blood-soaked crucible and command the western wastes with pride.

Yet now, after hundreds of thousands of years of indulgence, the once-mighty lords of slaughter had dulled their fighting spirit. The cubs were no longer sent out to train from youth—their rites of passage were arranged by their elders! With such cubs, what future could the tiger clan possibly have? This malaise was not theirs alone; it had infected all the powers of the western wastes.

Adversity breeds survival; comfort brings demise. The tiger clan had become weak, transformed from killer tigers into feeble ones.

Before the army of ferocious beasts began their assault, the tiger clan, the Palace of Spring and Autumn, the Desert City, the Whale Clan, and the Sky Eagle Clan—the five great powers of the western wastes—could still maintain their rule through sheer authority. But as soon as the army of beasts launched their overwhelming onslaught, the so-called strength of the five powers was stripped away, torn brutally apart by the rampaging horde.

Their hollow, brittle reality was laid bare for all to see.

A sudden sense of pity flickered in Huyue’s eyes as he gazed upon the panicked tiger elders, mocking himself inwardly: “If only they knew that the Palace of Spring and Autumn, Desert City, Whale Clan, and Sky Eagle Clan have already been completely destroyed by the beast army—would they not fall into utter despair? Heh…”

Surveying the silent White Tiger Hall, the second elder of the tiger clan, Huyang, was forced to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Huyue! Is there any proof of this beast army?”

Golden-haired, with handsome features, robed in gold, and bearing an aura as radiant as sunlight—this was Huyang, the three-eyed, two-winged golden tiger. In the vastness of the hall, only three tiger clan leaders had the right to question Huyue: the clan chief Hushatian, the grand elder Huxing, and the second elder Huyang. Yet for reasons unknown, both the chief and the grand elder remained silent, leaving it to Huyang to finally shatter the oppressive quiet.

“A fine question!” Huyue’s face lit up with a hint of agitation at Huyang’s inquiry, and he replied in a booming voice.

With a sweep of his hand, four golden screens appeared instantly in the center of the hall, encircling the image of the beast army’s siege. On the four screens conjured by Huyue, there appeared a divine mountain split evenly between green and yellow, a sacred city standing tall amidst endless sands, a crystalline palace, and an island in the sky.

“Palace of Spring and Autumn,” “Desert City,” “Crystal Whale Hall,” “Sky Eagle Isle…”

A chorus of astonished exclamations rose from the elders, uncertain why Huyue was showing them the ancestral grounds of the four great powers.

The four screens switched directly to the armies of the four powers, each simultaneously taking to their walls, gazing into the distance with anxious dread. At this, the quick-witted among the tiger elders immediately drew the connection: the situation mirrored exactly that of White Tiger City under the beast army’s assault.

“Could it be that the four great powers, too, have been attacked by the beast army? Is their terror truly so boundless?”

A cold sweat broke out on the brows of these elders, who stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the screens.

A succession of four furious roars, brimming with killing intent, burst forth. Four torrents of blood, each spanning a million miles, surged like a flood to engulf the ancestral grounds of the four powers. Surrounded by an endless sea of beasts, those strongholds seemed as fragile as lone leaves adrift on a blood-red ocean—ready to be swept away in an instant.

A battle of unprecedented ferocity erupted.

From above the beast army, four figures appeared—towering, six-eyed, six-winged blood deities—who launched a fierce assault upon the ancestral lands. The endless tide of beasts hurled themselves in suicidal waves against the defenses, determined to break through at any cost.

In response to this madness, four colossal, radiant forms emerged above the strongholds: a swaying god-tree of green and yellow, a bellowing sand giant, a massive sea whale churning the waves, and a sky-soaring eagle of titanic proportions.

Unwilling to await destruction, the four great powers mustered all their strength, calling forth their fortunes and powers to summon their guardian deities in a desperate stand against the onslaught.

But as the battle reached deadlock, four blood-red figures suddenly merged with the six-eyed, six-winged blood gods. Instantly, the six blood eyes blazed forth with beams of crimson light, radiating an endless aura of slaughter. Where before the blood gods had been but empty shells, now, fused with the four spirits, they acquired souls and boundless vitality.

A long, mournful cry echoed through heaven and earth, stirring sorrow in the hearts of all living things. But the six-eyed, six-winged blood gods were pure incarnations of slaughter, utterly devoid of emotion.

With a single wrench, the blood god tore the colossal sky eagle in two, scattering its divine majesty into countless sparks that vanished into the void. The Sky Eagle Clan’s chief, merged with the giant eagle, was obliterated in a single blow—body, soul, all erased.

In short order, the god-tree, the sand giant, and the sea whale all met the same fate, ripped apart by the blood gods. The lords of the Palace of Spring and Autumn, Desert City, and the Whale Clan were likewise destroyed, their remains and souls utterly extinguished.

A chorus of triumphant, savage roars shook the heavens. With a single strike, the blood gods shattered the defensive barriers of the four ancestral grounds. The beast army, an endless tide of blood, surged forward once more, flooding into the strongholds.

In an instant, the ancestral lands of the four great powers were erased, becoming part of the domain of slaughter.

The four mighty powers that once ruled the western wastes—gone.

The blood tide, spanning a million miles, rolled onward, setting its sights on the next destination.