Magical Girl's Knight Brother

Chapter 591 Divine Blood

With Scáthach, the Shadow Queen... no, she should be called the Shadow Rider, leading the way, Tang Zijun and the old mercenary Desk, who was their guide, finally felt a huge weight lifted from their hearts. Scáthach's magnificent and powerful shadow armor, and the crimson spear in her hand that could absolve the calamities of the undead, became the most reassuring barrier in this eerie forest. The three of them no longer deliberately detoured or explored too deeply; their goal was clear—to traverse this ominous place as quickly as possible.

They maintained a high speed, like three swift shadows weaving through the gray fog and twisted, withered trees.

Along the way, almost every red-robed ghost emanating an ominous red glow that came into view was rendered helpless. Scáthach simply raised her hand slightly, and the surrounding shadows pounced like the most loyal hounds, precisely binding their targets. Then, with a light tap of the purifying spear, the raging corrupting energy was forcibly stripped away and devoured by the power of shadow, leaving only pure spirits that gradually regained their composure and eventually dissipated into the forest. The entire process was efficient, ruthless, and carried an air of self-evident certainty.

They did not come to exorcise ghosts, so they did not actively search for them.

In the brief intervals between rapid movements, Tang Zijun's keen eyesight caught sight of huge, indescribable claw marks scattered on the forest floor, as well as some torn and tattered monster remains that emitted a strong, pungent stench. These sights silently spoke of a threat lurking deep within the forest, a threat even more terrifying than the red-robed ghost.

Desk followed closely behind Tang Zijun. This experienced local mercenary veteran's forehead was covered in a fine layer of cold sweat, and his palms, gripping his weapon, were slick with sweat. He was just an ordinary person, lacking the power of Tang Zijun's strange armor and Scáthach's godlike might. The deathly aura permeating the forest and the faintly visible, enormous marks were enough to terrify this veteran.

Each time he saw a new claw mark or corpse, his breath would involuntarily catch in his throat, and his steps would quicken as he desperately wanted to leave this hellish place. Fortunately, he was accompanied by two god-like beings. Scáthach's silent aura seemed to form an invisible barrier, causing even the most ferocious monsters to cower and retreat in their wake. The anticipated ambush and entanglement did not occur, and their journey proceeded unexpectedly smoothly.

With speed and the assurance of strength, they quickly reached the other edge of the Ghost Mist Forest.

The dense, suffocating gray-white fog thinned here, revealing a more open (though still dim) view ahead, and the air seemed to circulate a little more. Just a few steps before stepping out of the forest, Scáthach, who had been silently scanning her surroundings like a precision scanner, suddenly paused. She crouched slightly, her fingers, covered in shadow armor, lightly brushing the edge of an inconspicuous black rock half-hidden by fallen leaves. Tang Zijun immediately noticed her movement, stopped, and curiously approached. "What did you find?"

Following Scáthach's fingertip, beneath the rock, in the crevices of damp soil and decaying leaves, Tang Zijun spotted a dark brown, almost black, mark—a few drops of dried blood. The amount of blood was small, and its location was well-hidden; were it not for Scáthach's extraordinary perception, it would have been virtually impossible to detect.

They have long lost their vibrant colors, solidified on the soil and stone surfaces, appearing utterly unremarkable.

But Scáthach's pause, and the sudden, focused, purplish light beneath her helmet, silently declared that these seemingly ordinary drops of dried blood were anything but simple. Tang Zijun and Deskol's gazes were both fixed on the small mark, awaiting Scáthach's judgment.

The ancient god, clad in magnificent shadow armor, spoke in a voice still cold and flat, emanating from beneath his helmet, yet it resonated like thunder in their ears: "This is the blood of a god."

There was no suspense or hesitation.

Tang Zijun's pupils contracted slightly, and his eyebrows shot up sharply. Although he had a premonition that this trip was related to the fluctuations of divine power, he was still slightly surprised when Scáthach so bluntly uttered the words "divine blood." Desk, standing beside him, reacted even more directly and intensely.

"Divine Blood?!"

The experienced mercenary, who had spent years navigating the edge of the Ghost Mist, turned deathly pale. It was as if he had been struck hard in the chest by an invisible hammer. An indescribable fear and awe, stemming from his very life force, overwhelmed him like a cold tide.

His legs buckled as if all bones had crumbled, and he staggered back several steps, his back slamming heavily against a twisted, withered tree before he managed to regain his balance. He gasped for breath, his eyes filled with utter horror as he stared at the few drops of blood, as if they weren't blood, but scalding lava or deadly poison. The blood of a god. What did it mean?

Tang Zijun's brain was racing, with countless thoughts and possibilities colliding and intertwining.

The good news is that the appearance of divine blood unequivocally confirms that the strange divine power fluctuations they were tracking were not an illusion. Not long ago, a genuine being who could flow with divine blood—a god in some kind of descent to earth—had just passed by here.

The bad news is that the appearance of divine blood also means that this unknown deity is injured, and the danger of an enemy or encounter that can force a deity to bleed is absolutely beyond imagination. More importantly, Scáthach pointed out divine blood, not the residual aura of a god.

The fact that blood is separated from the body, especially in this state of exposure to the filthy environment of the Ghost Mist Forest, sends an extremely ominous signal—this deity's injuries are probably no small matter, and his life essence is likely rapidly being lost, or even...on the verge of death.

Who could possibly harm a god? How did Chi end up here? Was he seriously injured elsewhere and forced to come here, or is there some other entity nearby that could threaten a god?

Various thoughts and doubts swirled in Tang Zijun's mind, and her gaze became extremely solemn.

After pausing for a moment, he took a deep breath, suppressed the turmoil in his heart, and whispered to Scáthach.

"Are you sure this is really the blood of a god?"

Scáthach tilted her head. "Gods are incredibly special beings. Their genetic information and genes have been modified by the rules. Even a single drop of blood contains terrifying amounts of data that are extremely difficult to replicate. I am absolutely certain of this."

Listening to Scáthach's earnest combination of ancient gods and technology, Tang Zijun felt something was off. He often overlooked the fact that the woman before him had lived in a wasteland with advanced technology for nearly a century. However, she wasn't wrong; the blood of a god was indeed very special. Although Tang Zijun couldn't determine the origin of the blood, he could sense faint energy fluctuations on it. "So, so, a god really has descended?" Desk licked his dry lips, carefully came behind Tang Zijun, and bowed towards the bloodstains on the ground. "Then how do we find the pool?" Scáthach didn't answer. Her fingers, covered in shadow armor, were already pointing along the edge of the rock, in the subtle direction of the bloodstains, deep beyond the edge of the Ghost Mist Forest, into that unknown, darker, and more profound region.

The ghostly mist slowly dissipated from view, as if a thick curtain had been drawn back.

What unfolded before them was not the wilderness or mountains they had anticipated, but a breathtakingly magnificent city wall beyond imagination. The wall far surpassed the scale of Black City, its height estimated to exceed a hundred meters. Constructed of massive square stones that appeared a deep, dark red in the dim light, it resembled a sleeping dragon, coiled and undulating across the earth. The wall's surface was covered with the marks of time and enormous, deep cracks, as if torn by some terrifying claw. Countless crimson reliefs, shaped like giant maple leaves, adorned the tops and crenellations. Even after the passage of time and the ravages of war, its unparalleled craftsmanship and imposing grandeur were still evident.

After a moment's hesitation, Scáthach slowly stood up. "It seems our initial assessment was correct; the enemy has indeed entered Crimson Maple City." "Having traces makes things easier."

Tang Zijun sniffed, memorizing the scent of blood.

Then he carried an oil lamp to the front of the procession and gazed at the magnificent and enormous city wall.

"I'll lead the way from now on."