National Guardian's Gone and We're Done

This was a situation Chu He found absolutely unacceptable.

He was trying to leverage the situation, forcing Chu He to hold back for fear of collateral damage and preventing him from making any reckless moves.

Chu He was oblivious to the Hand-Head’s intricate and sinister calculations.

He offered no verbal reply, letting his actions serve as his answer.

Chu He raised his hand slightly. With a light tap of his long, powerful finger,

a mysterious power was instantly injected into the air,

stirring it with subtle and bizarre ripples.

These were no ordinary ripples on the surface of water.

They were an emerald green, a luscious, vibrant color brimming with life,

like the tenderest blades of spring grass shimmering in the morning sun.

This surge of vibrant green, filled with Life Force, radiated from Chu He’s finger.

It spread rapidly outward as if it had a life of its own.

It spread like the waves from a pebble dropped into a placid lake,

stirring up delicate, rhythmic ripples.

But the power contained within these waves was far from that of ordinary water.

It was a destructive force capable of annihilating everything.

As the green ripples spread,

the surrounding air grew heavy, compressed by an unseen force.

A formidable power was brewing within it, poised to strike.

Then,

an astonishing scene unfolded:

Blades of grass began to slowly materialize from the void.

The blades varied in form; some were as slender as needles, others as broad as knives.

Yet every single one was as sharp as a legendary sword, glinting with a terrifying cold light.

They weaved and spiraled through the air like a swarm of summoned Elves,

performing a mysterious and dangerous ritual.

As their numbers grew, these sword-like blades of grass formed an unprecedented storm.

Each blade pulsed with a mystical power drawn from the depths of nature itself,

a power strong enough to tear through space with ease,

leaving horrifying fissures in its wake. Space itself groaned in agony.

Under the fierce impact of this immense power, the entire space

was instantly shattered.

It was like a mirror struck with tremendous force,

with cracks spreading in every direction.

The fabric of space twisted and warped.

And this terrifying storm of sword-like grass blades,

now resembled an enraged, starving behemoth.

It opened its gaping, bloody maw, filled with endless fury and destructive might,

and lunged toward the humanoid bulwark built from human bodies.

The villagers within the human bulwark,

still wore expressions of terror and despair.

Their eyes were vacant and helpless.

They had long been controlled by that evil power,

stripped of their ability to act.

They could only watch as the storm bore down on them, powerless to struggle or resist.

The storm devoured them mercilessly.

Every sword-like blade of grass was like an impossibly sharp razor,

easily slicing into flesh and tearing their bodies apart.

In an instant, blood blossomed in every direction.

The crimson blood and emerald blades intertwined,

creating a nauseating and gruesome tableau.

Before this overwhelming power, those once-vibrant lives

were now no different from meat being fed through a grinder.

They were reduced to a slurry of flesh mixed with gushing blood, a horrifying downpour like a fountain of gore,

splashing in all directions.

It painted the already terrifying and evil place in even deeper shades of blood and despair.

The human bulwark that the Hand-Head had relied upon,

under the impact of the cataclysmic power Chu He had unleashed,

instantly crumbled to dust.

It was like a castle built of fragile sand

facing a surging, unstoppable tide.

It had no power to resist,

and was utterly destroyed in an instant.

A profound shock rippled through all those present.

Their eyes filled with endless terror,

forced to watch as their lives were extinguished like candles in the wind.

Controlled by that evil force, they were utterly powerless.

That despair and helplessness hung over them like a thick pall,

shrouding each and every heart in darkness.

And this entire catastrophic scene,

was the result of nothing more than a seemingly casual wave of Chu He’s hand,

yet it held a terrifying power capable of overturning the world.

All the men from Xia Shui Village who had come for the sacrificial ceremony

had now been reduced to horrifying, sticky piles of shredded flesh.

As a tidal wave of blood gushed forth,

this slurry of flesh and blood rained down directly upon the Hand-Head’s body.

The surging blood instantly concealed the bizarre, purplish-black hue of his body,

painting him a shocking, ghastly shade of crimson.

Great sheets of blood, carrying chunks of flesh, slowly slid down his body.

The sound of DRIP, DRIP, DRIP was incessant,

ringing out with chilling clarity in the silent, terrifying atmosphere.

It was the sound of a countdown to death,

each drop a chilling beat that would make one’s blood run cold.

The Hand-Head was stunned speechless amidst this bloody storm,

his bloated body trembling violently like a leaf in the wind.

This trembling was not from cold or excitement,

but from the irrepressible terror deep within his heart.

A deep sense of regret and fear surged through his mind.