jdhmnovel Chapter 351 Hell, Destruction and Death! (Page 12)
Chapter 351 Hell, Destruction and Death! (Page 12)
On the battlefield between Han Shaoyun and the agent of the God of Yellow Sand, the world seemed to be divided into two completely different worlds.
On one side, a raging sandstorm raged, and the Sand Deadmen marched forward in orderly steps.
Their bodies are formed from countless grains of sand, each grain shimmering with an eerie golden light.
The Deadpools wielded sand blades, their edges wreathed in the deathly aura of the desert. Wherever they passed, the ground quickly dried up and cracked, and vegetation withered instantly.
Crimson light flickered in their empty eye sockets, and thousands of Dead Servants simultaneously emitted a hissing roar, like the howling of a desert storm.
On the other side was a chilling ghost realm, where hellish soldiers stood silently in formation.
With each step these black-armored undead warriors took, a ghostly blue frost would form on the ground.
The spears they wielded were wreathed in hellfire, and the drops falling from their tips were not blood, but the waters of the Styx River, capable of freezing souls.
The ghostly soldiers made no sound, but their perfectly synchronized movements carried a suffocating sense of oppression.
Behind them, more and more ghostly soldiers poured out of the enormous gates of hell, and countless tormented souls could be vaguely seen inside.
The moment the two armies of the undead collided with a deafening roar—
交锋
"boom!!!"
The Sand Blade clashed with the Nether Spear, unleashing a deafening roar.
The Sand Servant's sand blade struck the Yin Soldier's armor, sending countless sparks flying; the Netherworld Spear pierced the Servant's body, instantly freezing him into a sand sculpture.
The shattered sand grains reformed in mid-air, while the fallen ghost soldiers turned into black mist and returned to the gates of hell.
In the center of the battlefield, Han Shaoyun stood with his hands behind his back.
His black trench coat fluttered in the energy storm, and ghostly blue flames danced in his eyes.
With each raised hand, new ghostly soldiers poured out of the gates of hell; with each flick of the sleeve, the ghostly fire on the battlefield burned even more fiercely.
The agent of the God of Yellow Sands stood in the center of the sandstorm, his bandages torn apart by the energy storm, revealing his completely sand-transformed body.
His hands continuously formed hand seals, manipulating countless grains of sand to form new Dead Servants.
But a closer look reveals that his sand-like body is shrinking at a visible rate—each time he summons a batch of Dead Servants, the sand grains in his body decrease by one.
"It's no use." Han Shaoyun's voice was like a cold wind from the depths of hell. "The ghostly soldiers in the gates of hell are endless, but your sand... will eventually run out."
The agent grinned menacingly, then suddenly clasped his hands together: "Let's see who gives up first!"
The sandstorm suddenly erupted throughout the city, forming dozens of giant sand dragons that rushed towards Han Shaoyun from all directions.
Meanwhile, countless soul-binding chains flew out from the Gates of Hell, becoming entangled with Sharon...
This war between the undead has turned the surrounding area into a true death zone.
But in the end, the agent of the God of Yellow Sands was slightly inferior.
His sand-like body had shrunk by more than half, and his once tall figure was now hunched over like an old man.
The summoned desert dead servants were repeatedly defeated by the onslaught of the ghost army, constantly turning into ordinary grains of sand and scattering to the ground.
A fierce, resolute look appeared on the man's face.
His face, covered in sand wrinkles, twisted and deformed, and suddenly he formed an ancient and evil hand seal with his cracked hands.
Those murky eyes were fixed on Han Shaoyun, the resentment in their gaze almost tangible.
“My lord, Set, the god of the yellow sand—” His voice was hoarse and frantic, each word filled with tearing pain, “Grant me strength! I am willing to offer myself and become your servant for all eternity!”
The world suddenly fell silent.
Immediately afterwards, a vast and ancient divine sound resounded in the void:
"allow!"
In an instant, the entire world changed color!
The already dim sky was instantly stained blood yellow, and countless grains of sand defied the laws of gravity, swirling upwards from the ground. The man's body began to undergo a terrifying transformation—
His skin cracked inch by inch, revealing the flowing golden sand beneath.
Its head twisted and elongated, transforming into the ferocious head of a jackal, its blood-red eyes resembling two shrunken suns.
The tattered robes transformed into shroud-like burial cloths, wrapping around the newborn body.
A massive scythe emerged from the void, grasped in his skeletal hand, its blade wreathed in the sands of death.
"boom!!!"
When the mutation was complete, a desert reaper a hundred feet tall stood between heaven and earth!
With each breath He took, a violent sandstorm arose, and the jackal's head tilted back, emitting a deafening howl.
The Grim Reaper was surrounded by countless evil spirits of sand, the souls that had been sacrificed to Set throughout the ages.
Han Shaoyun's pupils contracted slightly, and the Gates of Hell behind him trembled violently under the pressure of the Desert Death God.
But instead of backing down, he curled his lips into a cold smile:
"Finally...this is getting interesting."
Originally, the man's strength was only at the Boundless Realm, but now, with the blessing of the God of Yellow Sand, his aura surged wildly, instantly breaking through the shackles and reaching the peak of Klein!
The terrifying pressure was so real that it caused the space within a hundred miles to tremble.
With a gentle swing of his sand scythe, dozens of death whirlwinds roared out, shredding everything in their path into dust.
Han Shaoyun remained calm and composed, a signature cold smile playing on his lips.
The Lord of Hell's black trench coat remained motionless amidst the raging sandstorm, as if it stood alone outside of this world.
"That's all?" He raised an eyebrow dismissively, the flames in his eyes suddenly blazing. "Then let me show you... the true power of the Lord of the Eighteen Levels of Hell!"
He slowly raised his right hand, fingers spread, palm facing down.
A pitch-black vortex suddenly unfolded beneath the feet of the desert reaper, from which came the wails of countless dead souls.
"The Eighteen Levels of Hell - Avici Hell!"
In an instant, the color of the world changed!
Centered on the vortex, the entire battlefield was instantly dragged into the deepest part of hell.
The sky turned blood red, and countless burning chains hung from the void. Countless agonizing, distorted faces appeared on the ground, their mouths agape, emitting silent screams.
The most terrifying thing was that the body of the Desert Death suddenly began to sink!
The sand spirits that had been surrounding him were now tearing at his body, trying to drag him to the deepest level of the Avici Hell.
"No...this is impossible!" The Desert Reaper roared in despair, the golden crown on the jackal's head shattering inch by inch.
He swung his scythe desperately, only to find in despair that every attack was swallowed up by the painful laws of hell.
The man, transformed into the hundred-foot-tall desert god of death, roared to the sky, his black scythe carving a horrifying crack in the void. But before he could struggle, Han Shaoyun clenched his fists, and the gates of hell burst open!
—The Eighteen Levels of Hell, the Avici Hell!
It has truly arrived!
In an instant, billions of chains burning with karmic fire shot out from the abyss, wrapping around the body of the Desert Death God as if they were living creatures.
Each chain was engraved with ancient curse runes, which cut deep into his soul the moment they made contact, making a "sizzling" corrosive sound.
The Grim Reaper of the Desert let out a mournful howl, but before the sound could be heard, it was torn apart by the gale-force winds of hell.
The moment his body was dragged into the deepest hell, the terrifying punishment descended!
The first level is the Tongue-Pulling Hell! Countless evil spirits grinned and pounced, their iron pincers clamping down hard on his tongue and tearing it outwards, causing blood to spurt out!
The second level is the Scissors Hell! Your ten fingers are severed inch by inch by sharp scissors, and the sound of bones shattering can be clearly heard!
The third level, the Iron Tree Hell! Sharp iron branches pierce through his limbs, suspending him high in the air. Blood drips down the iron branches, steaming into a blood mist on the scalding lava!
……
One hellish punishment after another followed, his body was constantly torn apart, burned, and crushed, only to be reborn in the flames of karma, in an endless cycle!
Han Shaoyun stood atop Hell, his dark red robe fluttering in the scorching wind.
Beneath his feet lay an endless abyss, the boiling lava reflecting on his cold profile and casting shadows in his deep-set eyes.
Strands of nether energy swirled between his slender fingers, each strand connected to the soul suffering torture below.
His voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to come from the deepest part of hell, resonating with the wails of millions of souls:
"Welcome to...Avici Hell."
As the last word fell, the entire hell suddenly fell into an eerie silence.
All the evil spirits who were carrying out the executions stopped and looked up at the sky.
Ghostly green flames flickered in their empty eye sockets, and their rotting jaws opened and closed silently, as if repeating their master's words.
Han Shaoyun slowly raised his right hand, his hand with distinct knuckles appearing exceptionally pale under the blood moon.
As this action was performed, the instruments of torture in the eighteen levels of hell simultaneously emitted a piercing buzzing sound.
The red-hot iron clamps tightened automatically, the barbed chains trembled violently, and the mountain of knives submerged in the blood pool began to slowly rotate...
“Here.” He gently stroked the black jade thumb ring on his left hand, a chilling smile curving his lips. “Time is the cruelest punishment.”
As if to prove this statement, the soul locked on the mountain of knives suddenly let out a heart-wrenching scream—its wounds were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye, only to be cut open again by the sharp blades.
This cycle repeats endlessly.
Han Shaoyun lowered his gaze, his dark pupils reflecting the hellish scene below. A strand of hair was blown by the heat, brushing against his bloodless lips.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a cruelty that was almost gentle:
"May you...enjoy eternity."
The man, transformed into the Grim Reaper of the Hundred-Foot Desert, struggled in agony amidst endless instruments of torture. His pitch-black scythe had long been melted into molten iron by the fires of hell, dripping down his shattered body.
Its body, formed from yellow sand, constantly disintegrates and reassembles, each rebirth accompanied by even more intense pain.
It roared to the sky, but its voice was torn apart by the gale-force winds of hell, leaving only silent despair spreading across its distorted face.
"Why!" Its soul fire pulsed violently, letting out a defiant roar, "We're both at the Klein realm! How could your strength possibly..."
"That's not scientific!"
Han Shaoyun stood beneath the blood moon, his slender fingers gently brushing against the Netherworld chains wrapped around his arm.
Upon hearing this, he chuckled softly, a laugh that sent shivers down the spines of all the evil spirits in hell.
“Because this place…” he slowly raised his hand, and countless instruments of hell hummed in response, “is no longer in the mortal world, but in the netherworld-hell.”
"It is my authority!"
Before the words were even finished, the entire hell suddenly erupted in chaos!
The karmic flames of the eighteen levels of purgatory soared into the sky, intertwining behind him to form a hideous phantom of a demon god.
The phantom figure had six arms and held different instruments of torture, each exuding an aura that would make even the gods tremble.
"Even if the God of Yellow Sands behind you were to personally descend..." Han Shaoyun's eyes blazed with an eerie fire, "you would still have to kneel before my hell!"
"Keng——"
A pitch-black hellblade materialized in his palm, its blade wreathed with countless wailing souls, and its edge shimmering with a dark red, lava-like light.