Journey to the West: Treasure Vase of the Great Dao-Chapter 638 - 350 Taoist_2

However, the Taoist remained calm and collected, sitting down leisurely on a chair nearby, softly laughing, "I am not one of those swindlers; there's no need to threaten me. As for the matter that concerns you, isn't it the massacre of the Imperial Family of Great Chu, fearing that if Great Chu is restored, you will be unable to escape your doom?"

The color drained from Han Shanyuan's face; he glared at the Taoist, his killing intent undisguised as he applied a little force on his fingers and slightly drew the treasured sword, its glint flashing momentarily in the tent.

Unexpectedly, the Taoist ignored him completely, simply lifting his head to glance at him. A tremendous pressure swept in, making Han Shanyuan feel as though a mountain was pressing down on him, rendering him immobile as sweat instantly soaked through his collar.

"Who exactly are you, and what do you want in my camp?" Han Shanyuan asked loudly. He was very suspicious that this odd Taoist might be an assassin secretly recruited by the Feudal Lords, coming to the camp specifically to kill him. The fear of death made his questioning sound weak.

"Didn't I tell you? I am just here to relieve you of your worries. Had you not slaughtered the bloodline of the Lu Family to my great delight, I wouldn't have sought you out." The Taoist spoke leisurely.

"Do you have a grudge against the Lu Family?" Han Shanyuan asked in surprise, considering they were once from the Imperial Bloodline. To have a feud with him, the Taoist couldn't be a descendant of some traitorous rebel.

"Indeed, a grudge as deep as the sea. I am here today to aid you; I want to personally destroy the hope of Great Chu's resurgence, and let those people live in agony throughout the endless years." The Taoist's voice was light, but Han Shanyuan could feel the profound hatred in his words, wondering what the Lu Family could have possibly done to him.

"Might I inquire what brilliant strategy the Taoist Priest has to help me defeat the enemy? If successful, no matter the wish, I would be willing to grant it." Han Shanyuan said enthusiastically.

However, the Taoist Priest softly said, "I am merely a practitioner of the Tao, not versed in leading troops into battle. All you need to do is establish an altar here in the camp, and find three hundred and sixty-five strong men for me; I have my ways to defeat the enemy!"

Although Han Shanyuan was very curious about the Taoist's techniques, he diligently made preparations; after all, the power the Taoist had just demonstrated instilled a deep sense of fear in his heart. Perhaps he truly had a way to breach the city gates and destroy Great Chu.

Han Shanyuan's actions immediately attracted the attention of others in the allied army, as numerous generals approached the site and looked at the gradually completed altar with puzzled expressions.

"I say, Lao Han, what on earth are you up to? You haven't gone mad, have you?" A burly man with a pair of bat-like ears and a hefty build chuckled.

"What do you know, you big oaf? This is an altar. Soon the Taoist Priest will begin the ceremony and cast spells to break through the city gate," Han Shanyuan said jokingly.

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"Is he some charlatan from the streets, actually planning to breach the gates with spells? And you say you haven't gone mad, believing such nonsensical drivel."

Han Shanyuan couldn't be bothered to argue and continued arranging the altar. Meanwhile, Wang Tao viewed the surroundings thoughtfully and quietly retreated to his own area.

"Ancestor, have you discerned something?" Wang Tao whispered. However, if anyone entered the tent, they would find it empty, as if he was conversing with thin air.

"The altar's purpose is to summon rain. The aura emanating from that Taoist is strange, not like that of the human race. Just watch and wait; there are countless capable people within Great Chu. It's one thing to contend on the Human Path, but if someone tries to alter the course of battle with spells, they will surely die without a place for burial." Suddenly, a familiar voice emerged eerily within the empty tent — it was Wang Tao's ancestor, Wang Hu. It turned out that Taoist Zi Yang had arrived at the battlefield unnoticed and had been protecting Wang Tao all along.

"Since Han Shanyuan is willing to go through with it, let him be. I'm rather curious to see what the outcome will be," a hint of schadenfreude surfaced on Wang Tao's face as he muttered softly to himself.

As time passed, the altar slowly took shape. The Taoist inscribed runic inscriptions around it, placed Dharma Flags, and had three hundred and sixty-five strong men arrange themselves in a specific pattern.

He then ascended the altar, drew the treasured sword from his back, and lit the yellow paper. He began to recite in a low voice, unintelligible to any who heard, as the yellow paper ignited without flame and was instantaneously reduced to ashes by a blue fire.

"Let the winds rise!" the Taoist bellowed, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than a wild wind began to sweep in, growing stronger and stronger, lifting untold amounts of dust into the air, creating a terrifying sandstorm.

This phenomenon astonished everyone present. Those who had previously mocked the Taoist instantly fell silent. Such a master was not to be offended, as he might possess methods to slay a person without trace.

The Taoist paid no mind to the reactions of those around him. He concentrated intently on the sky, then with a sweep of his sword and another shout, "Gather, clouds!"

Suddenly, from the clear heavens, dark clouds appeared, promptly enveloping the sky, plunging the entire world into darkness, and with the howling wind, hinting at the coming of horrendous rain.

"Lightning flash, thunderclap!" No sooner had the voice faded than lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating it, followed by the fearsome sound of thunder that echoed through the heavens. Those of faint heart involuntarily shrank their necks as if a chill had crept from their feet through their bodies.

"Let the rain fall." With another wave of his sword, the sky opened up, unleashing a torrential downpour. Fat raindrops pattered against the city walls, producing a hissing sound, washing the battlefield clean of residual blood and extinguishing the remaining fires of war, as the relentless rain seemed intent on cleansing the battlefield entirely.

But it wasn't long before everyone realized something was amiss; the rain was too heavy, seemingly without pause. The water began to pile up, accumulating in the moat, and countless bodies were washed into it, the surface of the water carrying a frightful flotilla of corpses.

This storm was just beginning, as if the heavens intended to unleash the rain of countless years in one fell swoop, as if the Celestial River itself were to pour down.