I Can See Your Combat Power

Chapter 906: Two hundred chapters: beauty in cruelty noveldrama

Since he had already arrived at Vimazhita, Tang Luo was in no hurry and decided to carefully observe the group of people on the plains who were kowtowing while continuing on their journey.

Apart from a few monks, most of these people were in groups of three or five, including men, women, adults, and children, looking like a family.

The one leading the group was often the eldest among them, while the children mainly sat on the sleds pulled by pack animals.

At that time, the snow had been falling for several days, and the snow accumulation on the plains of Vimazhita had not melted, making their journey extremely difficult.

Apart from the few practitioners, Tang Luo found that most of them were ordinary people in tattered clothes. Their faces were dirty, their long-unmanaged hair clumped together, their hands covered with protective gear resembling copper plates, their bodies wrapped in leather from unknown animals, and their knees encased in thick protectors.

These people muttered incessantly, brought their palms together above their heads, and then took a step; their hands continued in prayer in front of them, followed by another step; hands together in front of their chests, and on taking the third step, their hands parted from their chests, extended forward parallel to the ground, palms facing down as they prostrated fully, with their knees touching the ground first followed by the rest of their body, their foreheads lightly tapping the ground before they rose again.

...

They repeated this cycle over and over, as if they were immune to fatigue, pain, and devoid of any particular joy—only peace, endless peace. The terrible weather and temperature, along with the arduous trek, seemed to have no effect on them.

But ordinary people are truly insignificant in the face of nature’s power, and spiritual power ultimately cannot help them overcome everything.

Tang Luo looked up at the snow clouds above. Even without any knowledge of meteorology, it was clear that such dense and extensive snow clouds meant continuous, and perhaps over ten days of, heavy snow.

And on these unsheltered plains, as the snow accumulation grew higher, those without cultivation and pack animals would likely be the first to perish.

Just like those people to the north—perhaps because the load was too heavy, or perhaps because the pack animals were too weak—the sled carrying everything the family needed to survive had sunk deep into the snow, and no matter how much the family exerted themselves, the sled and pack animals were immovable as if they were embedded in stone.

Tragically, the family was made up of ordinary people, and even the one leading them had only reached the peak of Mortal Realm cultivation. So, facing the sled stuck in the snow, they were powerless.

No matter how much he strained, and veins bulged with effort, the sled buried in the snow did not budge. Finally, the pack animal, panicked and stuck in the snow, exhausted its strength from its frantic struggle and collapsed with a sorrowful cry.

When it rains, it pours; when sailing, headwinds often arise. Misfortune never knows when to stop. With the pack animal unable to stand, the family lost their means to share the burden of carrying goods. What likely awaited them was the choice to leave behind the sacked goods on the pack animal and leave, and on these unprotected plains, death might be waiting for them.

Perhaps sensing the presence of death, the calm on the family’s faces turned to despair. The young girl knelt by the pack animal, caressing its face, whispering something that contained apology, reluctance, and mostly sorrow.

And in these days of heavy snow blocking the skies, with visibility no more than a few meters, who could see their plight and their despair?

Even if one could see, who could possibly help? The most desperate situation in the world is not being in a chilly environment, surrounded by enemies on all sides, but rather when someone wants to help you, they are willing but powerless. Under such a natural disaster, even those who have shed their mortal forms are merely stronger refugees, boats on the waves, struggling to save themselves.

Undoubtedly, the family had fallen into an impossible situation; unless some miracle occurred, Vimazhita would then be their burial ground.

However, faith was sometimes inexplicable. Just as Tang Luo was about to lend a hand to pull the family’s cart out of the snow, he discovered that a few ascetic monks not far from them had given up their focused pilgrimage, stood up, and rushed towards the family.

The monks were barefoot, their bodies wrapped only in light robes, and their hands and necks adorned with various styles of Buddhist beads, just like any other ascetic monk.

Tang Luo didn’t know how these monks had heard the family’s cries for help through the howling blizzard; he only saw the monks quickly approach the entrenched cart and, joining arms, they managed to heave the massive cart and its beast of burden from the snow. Having spent most of their Spiritual Power in the process, they bowed to the family who had escaped their predicament and continued their pilgrimage, prostrating themselves three times with nine bows, before disappearing into the blizzard.

If this were a story, it would be a perfect ending: A family in a desperate plight saved by a few ascetic monks, the family members proceeding towards their holy land with even more devout faith.

But reality is not a story. It does not change its cruel nature for a beautiful tale. The monks did very well, but there was only so much they could do. The snowstorm still raged on, and the road ahead remained vast and uncertain.

Walking through such deep snow, the physical exertion must have been ten times greater than normal. The snow, like a master of soft arts, constantly drained their strength.

This family would eventually be buried in the snowstorm; it was just a matter of time.

And those monks who had extended a helping hand weren’t much better off, for in such harsh conditions they relied solely on Spiritual Power to ward off the cold. The recent expenditure had drained much of their already inadequate Spiritual Power. Put another way, if they gave up their prostrations and started to run, they might have had a chance to escape the snow field, but if they continued, their fate wouldn’t be much different from that of the family.

The severe weather was tantamount to divine punishment for these believers; it was as if the heavens had intentionally designed obstacles to prevent this group of devotees from reaching their destination. The incessant snow over a thousand miles would extinguish all hope of life on this snow field unless they abandoned their pilgrimage and fled for their lives.

For some, even fleeing was too late. They had ventured too deeply into the snow field and were now out of options.

But isn’t the reason warriors practice diligently day and night so that one day they might rule over heaven and earth?

If this blizzard was the heavens’ cruel joke on these believers, then Tang Luo, standing above the clouds, had the confidence to tell the heavens one word, “No!”

Above the sky, the one in the Star Robe with the Gou Chen Mask, thirty-six Fallen Imperial Magnetic Beads spun rapidly along a mysterious trajectory. The beads spun with increasing speed, leaving trails of magnetic force in their paths. Streaks of electrical arcs appeared around Tang Luo, growing brighter and brighter.