Yarra’s Adventure Notes
Chapter 722 - 83: Moribund Herr_1

Chapter 722: Chapter 83: Moribund Herr_1

Herr stood quietly on the icy plain. He had taken off his tightly fastened black hooded cloak, casting it aside casually onto the crushed ice; his face, akin to a dried corpse, was exposed to the air. His body, devoid of warmth, had already formed a layer of white frost on the cold glacial plane. The chilly wind carried along a sharp howling as it swept across the plain, lifting a corner of Herr’s black robe. The fabric of the robe danced vigorously in the wind, rustling softly. Herr was no longer prepared to keep running. He had sensed his pursuers were closing in; to continue fleeing would be increasingly disadvantageous for him. He decided instead to use this final moment to regain composure and muster strength, ready to confront and shatter his adversaries head-on. He had sensed that there were now two pursuers behind him instead of just one, but that was inconsequential to him. Despite being previously disadvantaged when he met the Sand People assassins single-handedly, he never saw himself as defeated. His reluctance to pay the price to force a surge in his own strength then was mainly because he would have had to consume a huge amount of the Divine Grace he had accumulated, especially as there were no Deputies to replenish his power. Seeing such an unintended expense was something he did not wish for. But when faced with the prospect of death, he would willingly use his reserves. Therefore, he chose to stop and rest, to replenish his energy and adjust his internal state, preparing to elevate his power to an unprecedented height his enemies could scarcely fathom.

In the wind, Herr dressed in black, silently waited. The black scythe, his weapon which he had already chosen hundreds of thousands of years earlier, was plunged tip-down into the ice, standing next to him. As he caressed the scythe at his side, his memories seemed to be awakened, calling to mind something. The eternal lifespans of the Triclops were filled with boundless memories. Even with their superior brains and willpower, they also had to forget some ancient things like humans did. The only difference was that their forgetting happened over far longer periods than human lifespans. But these memories, instead of disappearing, would snooze in the brain. At unexpected moments, they would resurface, just like they did with Herr now.

While stroking the black blade of the scythe, Herr was suddenly reminded of his homeland from hundreds of thousands of years ago. How wonderful it was back then. Gigantic beasts roamed the lands and enormous birds of prey soared across the skies. Supreme beings tread on air, running with the wind, while Deities, bathed in holy light, walked among the world. The crops in the field were lush and dense, as the generous land supplied them with ample nutrients, enabling each plant to grow healthily. Flowers bloomed everywhere, irresistible to insects that danced among them and relished the fleeting time. Those were indeed the days to remember. But when did everything start to change? Why did the Triclops, who were supposed to coexist with the Deities, abruptly start a war? Why were those supreme beings not content with their lives and attacked the Deities they once revered?

Herr vividly recalled the final war that belonged to him. Back then, he, along with two others, were genuine Triclops, not the half-dead creatures they were now. The three of them as High Priests did not have enough power to single-handedly withstand the attacks of the supreme beings. But sharing the same Triclops lineage, they couldn’t just stand by as their own brethren assaulted the Deities they worshipped. Hence, they turned the faith and prayers of their followers into Divine Power through the temple representing the Deity, thus constantly retaliated against the hordes of supreme beings with their faith. They could have won that War. Everything could have been rewritten. But in the end, they failed because the two Chief Deities failed to launch an attack from behind the enemies as they had promised; instead, they sought refuge in their Divine Kingdoms and watched as the great Danacus was besieged. In the most critical moments when all their followers were overwhelmed, everyone willingly offered their Vitality as the final support for their Supreme God. But in the end, the great Danacus didn’t convert their Vitality entirely, instead, as he fell into slumber, used a part to transform his core believers into Undead forms while retaining their consciousness and also converted the three High Priests, including himself, into Shen undead, a state between life and death. As for the remaining portions, under the will of the deity, they turned into intangible arrangements, leaving a chance for the Supreme God to awake from slumber and return to this world.

For countless years, including himself, the three High Priests had been searching for an opportunity for the great Danacus to return. Now, after years of anticipation, such a thing was about to occur. Could he possibly die on the eve of this new dawn? He must survive. He wanted to witness the coming of the Supreme God, who would cleanse this baffling world. Perhaps only then would there be a chance for everything to restore to the pleasant days like seen in his memories. and only such a time could bring back the beautiful lands of the past.

Facing the wind on the glacier, Herr took a deep breath. How many tens of thousands of years had it been since he last breathed? He couldn’t be sure. As half-Undead, he didn’t need to breathe. He had forgotten what breathing felt like. The air passed through his shrunken nostrils, through his dried airways, into his withered lungs—it all seemed so meaningless. But as he breathed, a tremendous energy was inhaled into his body along with the air, making striking changes to Herr.

The cold wind wrestled with Herr’s robe, pulling it tightly against his body, accentuating his emaciated figure. Yet as he continued to breathe, the figure beneath the robe began visibly expanding, appearing as though a skeleton was rapidly regrowing its flesh. No, it wasn’t just an appearance, a skeleton was genuinely growing flesh. On Herr’s exposed face, the shrunken skin was squirming continuously, as if a small creature was burrowing around underneath, each squirm restoring some elasticity to the skin and flesh to the loose layer beneath.

He breathed in and out, again and again. Herr’s breathing rate kept growing. The regeneration of the flesh and skin on his face became faster. Dispersed Water Elements were crazily drilling into his body, rehydrating the tens of thousands of years of withered body. After a short while, his skull-like face regained his original countenance. Undeniably, from the perspective of human aesthetics, Herr was a very handsome and charming middle-aged man while he was alive: a straight nose, thin yet not gaunt lips, fair skin, pronounced eyebrows, accompanied by a pair of slightly eerie-looking eyes. The combination was bewitchingly attractive, fatally enticing for young girls.

Indeed, the oddly-looking eyes. As he breathed, not only did his skin regain elasticity and muscles regained fullness, but his eyes, which had turned into black holes, also regenerated. Within a few minutes, he had gone from a withered corpse to a being closely resembling a normal person. Herr exhaled heavily for the last time. His two eyes regained their sparkle. The Third Eye on his forehead also opened simultaneously. The energy gushing out of the Third Eye turned into a tangible wind, causing the snowflakes in the sky to momentarily fly in reverse.

"So, the power lent by the deity is so formidable." Herr bowed his head, looking at his own hands with his eyes for the first time in tens of thousands of years. His hands, now having flesh and blood, looked like those of a normal human. Although he remained in a half-dead, cold body, compared with the emaciated hands he had before, like dry wood, his hands now looked so familiar.

"A familiar body, and such tremendous power." Herr crawled towards the southwest direction, where the constellation representing Danacus used to be. Despite the stars having fallen, and the Divine Kingdom collapsed, in devout Herr’s heart, the southwest would always represent the direction of his lord. "My Lord, thank you for imparting Your Divine Grace upon me, endowing me with such immense power. Even though it is temporary, I will make full use of Your grace to clear all obstacles for Your return. Do not worry, my Lord, anything that hinders Your restoration will perish underneath Your bestowed grace. In Your temple, we will celebrate Your glorious return."

Regrettably, Herr’s prayer received no response from the deity as it had been for the past hundred years. But Herr was accustomed to this silence and felt no surprise. He just brushed the gathered snowflakes off his robe, picked up the scythe beside him, and gazed into the distance. In his energy perception, the enemy was drawing near.

The thin fog still enveloped the sky, the wind carrying snow, still ravaged the icy plain. In Herr’s sight, a figure slowly emerged from the fog. Golden short hair fluttered with the cold wind, peeking from the edges of the hat, adding a bright splash of color to the bleak icy plain. Step by step, the figure in the fog drew closer, growing vivid from its initial vagueness, as if rending the fog to descend upon the world.

Even though the opponent was wrapped in a thick coat, Herr could still recognize who it was, relying on his energy sense. After all, this was the third time they had met. The first time, in the World of the Dead, this man led his team into the deity’s territory, disrupting the Deity’s awakening. That time, Herr was defeated. The second time, on the Skyboat, Herr retreated once again. Thinking back, he realized that he wasn’t really defeated that time, he had just been startled by the aggressive display. In reality, he still had a big chance of killing him. Now, this was their third encounter, and Herr was brimming with confidence.

"This time, I will not lose," Herr muttered to himself. He raised his head, his gaze meeting with Pannis’, who was emerging from the snow, through the fog.

At the same time, Pannis also lifted his head, his gaze went through the gaps in the flying snow, staring at Herr’s face. At this moment, the gazes of two powerhouses intersected in mid-air. The meeting of eyes brimming with energy and momentum nearly ignited substantial sparks. For a moment, even the omnipresent snow seemed to halt due to the collision of energy.

The next moment, an explosive clash resounded through the icy plains. (To be Continued. If you like this work, I welcome you to vote for it at qidian.com. Your support is my biggest motivation. Mobile users, please visit m.qidian.com for reading.)