Chapter 29 Unnamed Slaughter

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窗体底端

Wukong, after carrying out his deed, felt content in his heart, unaware that it had brought considerable trouble to the Bull Demon King. With nothing else to do, he transformed himself into the appearance of an ordinary man and flew into the mortal realm.

Gliding through the clouds and braving the strong winds, Wukong roamed in a world that seemed as enchanting as the realms of immortals, filled with an indescribable sense of melancholy and sighs.

Suddenly, he heard a commotion from below and landed on a low peak to observe from a distance.

With his exceptional vision, Wukong saw two armies clashing on a plain, chaotic as wolves and wild boars, kicking up clouds of dust that filled the sky.

Upon closer inspection, however, they were not soldiers but rather two groups of civilians, dressed in tattered clothes, with faces yellowed and bodies thin from starvation, wielding makeshift weapons like hoes and sticks. They were so impoverished that it was surprising they still had the energy to fight.

Wukong saw that despite their weakness and lack of martial skills, both groups fought with a fierce gleam in their eyes and flushed faces, as if drunk, desperately aiming for each other's vital points in a fight to the death.

The two groups, numbering over two thousand people, gradually diminished through the battle to a thousand, eight hundred, four hundred... and finally, only about fifty to sixty people remained, standing on the ground like bloodied figures. Logically, one group should have emerged victorious.

Wukong thought the battle was over, but then, inexplicably, those fifty to sixty people, as if possessed, screamed and turned their weapons against their comrades who had just fought alongside them.

After another round of brutal and bloody combat, only two individuals stood, covered in wounds and bleeding, their blood dripping onto the ground, soaked with thick, sticky blood.

Silence.

These two, exhausted beyond measure, were somehow still driven to raise their hoes against each other, taking turns striking, as if engaged in a dull game.

Even from miles away, Wukong felt a chill run down his spine, as if there was nothing more terrifying in the world than this. These two could have been fellow villagers, brothers, or even father and son...

Eventually, one of them could no longer hold up his body. Despite the other's feeble attack, he fell to the ground, splashing blood everywhere.

The victor showed no joy in his triumph. He slowly turned around, surveyed his surroundings, and looked at himself, resembling a ghoul that had walked out of hell. He dropped his hoe, let out a tragic laugh followed by wailing cries.

Wandering among the corpses, he finally collapsed onto one, crying out, "Dad!" before fainting, never to stand up again.

Wukong, squatting on the low peak, was dazed by the scene before him. What had happened to make kin slay each other, erasing over two thousand lives from the world in just an hour?

He then remembered something. This place was not far from the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, located within the Eastern Victory Divine Continent. Buddha once said, "I observe the sentient beings in the four continents, their good and evil vary: those in the Eastern Victory Divine Continent respect heaven and earth, their hearts serene and their spirits calm..." Serene and calm? It seemed more like the deepest hell.

Wukong sat quietly, observing the dead bodies, when suddenly, he noticed a faint white thread, almost invisible, strong and unbreakable, emanating from the corpses.

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