Chapter 677: Chapter 402: Devoured by Grief and Anger_2
"This is exciting," Cai Jie said, and Yan Xiaobao nodded. The entire army was watching, but no one intervened. They understood Wan Qiao wanted to win the battle himself—if Li Xiaopeng died by someone else’s hand, no one would dare face an enraged Wan Qiao.
Suddenly, there was a sound from the rear of the army—a commotion and clamor erupted. Yan Xiaobao turned and saw a group of over thirty Saints soaring through the air. They stood to the side, unsure of what to do. As his gaze lifted to the sky, Yan Xiaobao saw his own Saints also hovering above, ready to settle this matter once and for all. Yan Xiaobao smiled as golden martial wings unfurled from his shoulders, propelling him into the sky, followed by the golden youth who seemed to walk on air rather than fly.
Standing side by side, Yan Xiaobao and Cai Jie no longer focused on Wan Qiao and Li Xiaopeng. Instead, their attention was entirely fixed on the Saints in the sky.
The appearance of the beasts had changed completely. Yan Xiaobao sighed and awakened the meditative bird in his Lower Dantian. "This doesn’t look good," Yan Xiaobao remarked. Lan Feng opened his eyes, observing what Yan Xiaobao was seeing.
"You know, when the war began, we were sure the Xibi Empire only had a handful of Saints," Lan Feng said. "Li Meilin claimed there were very few. But now, it boils down to this—when it comes to Saints, their numbers are almost comparable to this nation. Where did they come from?" Lan Feng mused aloud, controlling his own body, which sent a shiver through Yan Xiaobao.
"I don’t know," Yan Xiaobao sighed. "They’re here. I have to trust Li Meilin’s mistaken information—or maybe they simply emerged from unknown places. Perhaps they are mercenaries hired to support them."
"What do you think Saints are?" Lan Feng mocked. "They’re no mere mercenaries; they’re the pinnacle of power. But who cares—I need to save your little butt." He laughed, and suddenly Yan Xiaobao felt his Qi energy surge from the Red Beast Core within his Dantian Cave. The energy entering him slowly began to transform. To Yan Xiaobao’s astonishment, his body didn’t sprout red fur; instead, blue feathers began to emerge on his skin. His hair turned to feathers, his legs transformed into talons, and his arms became wings. His ice-blue eyes gazed heavenward, surrounded by small golden feathers. The transformation left everyone stunned.
The beast tribe knew Yan Xiaobao as a red wolf. He had transformed into that shape repeatedly, yet here he became a massive Blue Phoenix shrouded in a Saint’s aura. A resounding screech burst from his beak, sending tremors through the earth littered with beast corpses. Even Wan Qiao, deemed the strongest, trembled. Lan Feng—the Blue Phoenix, the son of the Vermilion Bird, and the sovereign of birds—stood before them. While he wasn’t the mightiest Saint, he was certainly not one to be underestimated. Witnessing this transformation, even the Golden Man beside him was shocked by Yan Xiaobao’s complete change in aura, power, and appearance.
"Time to play a little!" Lan Feng declared in a voice markedly different from Yan Xiaobao’s. The Saints among the beasts began screaming, roaring, or howling. Every Saint could feel they were in the presence of a Divine Beast—a sacred creature believed to have been annihilated by An Hee’s hand thousands of years ago. Yet here it was, a Phoenix resurrected from the ashes of war. The Phoenix bolstered the Saints’ willpower. Everyone’s spirits soared, and although humans were not few in number, they were overwhelmed by the surge in strength displayed by each beast.
"It’s because of that useless bird over there!" the Great Marshall shouted. He was no Saint but was brought by one to watch the battlefield. His gaze was steady, but fear was unmistakable in his depths when he witnessed the chaos caused by the foolish Blue Bird.
"Attack him! Kill him, and you’ll win this war!" the Great Marshall bellowed, pointing at Lan Feng. He spit as froth bubbled from his mouth. "He’s just a beast! Go kill him! Attack him!" His voice reached feverish intensity, his eyes bloodshot, foam splattering everywhere. At this moment, the Saints team hesitated, uncertain whether to follow the crazed orders of the clearly unhinged Great Marshall.
"This is not what he promised us," one Saint declared, as he looked around at the gathering beasts near Yan Xiaobao. "He said we could easily handle these beasts and take riches from the Divine Domain. But all we’ve done is fight endlessly. We’ve even lost some brothers," one complained, and others silently agreed.
"I joined because he promised me beast slaves. Those beasts fetch a high price. But now, should I risk my life for a few slaves?" another chimed in.
"Who cares about slaves—I was promised an ancient cultivation method that could reach God’s rank. He claimed beasts possessed such methods. What have I gained? My brothers died fighting those who should’ve been weak!" A third spoke angrily, and soon, all the Saints filled with discontent as they realized each had been promised rewards—some worldly riches, others techniques, or high-level abilities.
"I refuse to fight in this war against beasts," a Saint declared, raising his arms in the air. "I’ve spent far too much time trying to win, and now, seeing even the Crusaders fail while Saints are lost left and right, I won’t risk myself for this greed-driven Great Marshall anymore," he added, looking at Yan Xiaobao. His gaze was conflicted with complex emotions. "I hope if we meet again, there will be no bad blood between us," he said to the gathering Beast Saints before bowing to Yan Xiaobao. Turning briskly, he made his way toward the sky. Viewing the unfolding tension, some Saints on the side of the Spanish Empire hesitated before bowing to the beasts, then flew away, never once glancing back.
Within minutes, the Xibi Empire lost about thirty Saints, leaving behind only four. Among them was Li Xiaopeng, still locked in fierce combat with Wan Qiao. He paid no attention to the happenings in the sky, fixated solely on avenging Li Meilin.
Scanning the battlefield, the Great Marshall’s panicked gaze fell on Li Xiaopeng. A manic grin spread across his lips. "It doesn’t matter if the Crusaders failed or Saints abandoned me!" He started pacing erratically, screaming incoherently, leaving even Saints struggling to keep him airborne. "Li Xiaopeng is a Saint capable of rivaling General Frozen!" he shouted. "Li Xiaopeng—the Xibi Empire’s secret weapon! Thanks to Li Meilin’s loyalty to the Empire, he can handle all of you! Don’t think I’ll let you leave!" He cried out, but terror soon flooded his eyes as his body plummeted to the ground. The Saints no longer bothered to catch him. "No! Don’t let me fall! We can win! The Xibi Empire is mine!" he shouted, but none of the beasts made an effort to save him.
Everyone watched as the Great Marshall hit the roof of a building. The crack of his bones breaking echoed throughout, and his screams of agony pierced the air. He rolled off the roof onto the ground, and abruptly, the screaming stopped. There was no sound as he lay there lifeless. Two beasts approached to gauge the Great Marshall’s condition, and upon checking his pulse, both shook their heads. The Great Marshall was dead.
Apart from Wan Qiao and Li Xiaopeng, everyone momentarily paused as they looked at the fallen Great Marshall. His death was pathetically anticlimactic—he had simply dropped to his demise. Yan Xiaobao couldn’t help but think the man deserved such an unceremonious end—nothing extravagant, just a quick death to conclude a life marked by greed.
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