Journey to the West: Treasure Vase of the Great Dao-Chapter 617 - 340: Doomsday Approaches

Such a sinister adversary truly made him feel terrified from the depths of his heart, and he couldn't help but frown and say, "Is there really nothing we can do about him?"

The Old Monk revealed a trace of a bitter smile and said, "He has already become a force to be reckoned with; it's difficult to deal with him, especially since if we fail to capture all of his avatars, all our efforts will have been in vain."

Arthur caught the implication in the Old Monk's words; the current situation was that they simply had no idea how many avatars the Demon had secretly created.

"It seems we have to hasten our steps!" Arthur said gravely, looking into the distance, feeling an indescribable sense of urgency in his heart, as if he could no longer wait.

Once Arthur's command was issued, the march to war gradually drew near. After such a long period of recuperation, Arthur's army was now robust and formidable, and his soldiers howled with eagerness, ready to strive for glory on the battlefield.

And so a terrifying war began. Arthur's army conquered lands with an unstoppable momentum, and within a short period, they seized most of the world's territories, carving out a path for Arthur to truly become King.

At the same time, a mysterious race from the far North made their first appearance before the world, with their strange appearances, cruel dispositions, and a total disregard for morality in their acts of slaughter, signaling that this race was one full of killing and destruction, incapable of peaceful coexistence.

Thus, the war gradually morphed into a battle between the human race and the so-called half-orc race—a fight to the death, where the loser would face the annihilation of their species.

Leading the human race's army, Arthur embarked on a campaign to the North. After crossing rivers and traversing mountains, the fearsome half-orc army appeared before them.

They were a savage and bloody race, seemingly a patchwork of various species, so diverse that without standing together, it would be hard for Arthur to consider them as one race.

The only similarity might be their eyes, cold as if they were made of ice that would not melt for ten thousand years, void of any emotion, like those of a machine.

Once they saw the army led by Arthur, they let out mighty roars filled with bloodlust and frenzy.

Arthur steeled himself; he knew the final battle had begun. Whoever won this war would rule the entire world.

The soldiers of the human race, clad in heavy armor, charged in an orderly fashion toward the half-orcs. In contrast to the discipline of the human race, the half-orc army was more chaotic yet more powerful, their bodies harboring explosive strength, which meant they never cared for formations.

Arthur led the charge, riding on a massive chariot, his Treasured Sword pointing to the skies, its dazzling light shining across the battlefield. On the lands bathed by that light, the strength of the human race was greatly boosted while the power of other races was severely weakened.

Under all the heavens, lie the King's lands; along the borders, all are subjects to the King.

At Arthur's side, the Old Monk held the Bible, with Holy Light blossoming from above and illuminating the battlefield. The soldiers touched by the Holy Light healed at a visibly rapid rate.

This kind of Holy Light could still be seen in other corners of the battlefield. Over so many years, the Old Monk had trained many Priests capable of adeptly wielding the power of Holy Light, acting as medics on this battlefield.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

In stark contrast, there was the frenzy of the half-orcs; they were like tireless machines, ceaselessly wielding their weapons and attacking the crowds around them with a mind full of slaughter and destruction.

Orderly power will eventually overwhelm chaos, and the balance of victory kept tipping towards the human race. However, the half-orcs were not the type to easily admit defeat.

With a piercing scream, three massive lumps of flesh appeared flying over the battlefield. These mountainous masses whirled in the sky, cloaking the entire battlefield in a horrible and bizarre aura instantly.

Terrible gaping maws suddenly opened beneath the flesh masses, consuming all the corpses on the battlefield like specialized cleaners, yet soon, the people of the human race wore looks of despair.

Countless eggs fell from within the flesh masses, and before long, a new half-orc army stood before everyone's eyes anew.

"How are we to fight this!" A soldier despaired. How could they eradicate such monsters that could keep birthing endlessly, their fallen comrades' bodies even serving as nutrients for the enemy's growth.

At that moment, a white light shot onto Arthur's arm, and a giant Feathered Serpent appeared in the sky, its clear eyes looking down on the roaring half-orcs. A powerful force swept over them, and the newly born half-orcs collapsed back onto the ground, lifeless once again.

This was the power of death, even if those flesh masses had reversed the process through their procreative abilities, but once Little White Snake rectified death back into reality, they fell back into the clutches of death.

The army of the human race let out earth-shaking cheers. This was the God of Death, the sovereign over all beings. What was there to fear when the Divine Spirit ruling over death stood by their side?

The interference of Little White Snake seemed to enrage the three massive flesh masses, with a shrieking cry echoing in the sky. The power of degenerate proliferation began to act upon Little White Snake, and its white feathers started writhing one by one, transforming into white maggots that began to gnaw upon Little White Snake's flesh.