Deep Sea Embers

That figure was tall, even taller than Judge Fanna, that figure was very thin, as if what was wrapped under the dark long windbreaker was only a piece of dry flesh and blood. The lowered umbrella covered the face of the uninvited guest—but with just one glance, the old priest could see the profane and distorted shadow on the other's body.

"The residue of the black sun?" The old man looked at the figure in astonishment, and then roared, "How dare you step into this sacred library!"

In the next second, a loud bang broke the tranquility in the archives. The old priest had pulled out the large-caliber revolver at his waist, and the blessed bullets were wrapped in flames and roars. However, perhaps the old man's limbs were too slow. The figure had already moved before the gunshot - two phantoms suddenly appeared from the hem of his clothes, the first phantom directly blocked the bullet in the air, and the other phantom instantly crossed ten meters distance, and slapped the old priest on the shoulder.

There was a piercing sound of metal rubbing, and the old priest's body flew out horizontally and hit a nearby bookshelf. The huge bookshelf shook suddenly, and countless classics and files fell down.

The weird black figure holding the umbrella stepped forward and walked towards the direction where the old priest landed, a low and chaotic murmur came from his body, the sound sounded like dirty flesh and blood churning in a boiling pot.

However, in the next second, a roar suddenly came from the pile of collapsed books and books, and then the figure of the old priest jumped out of it. At some point in his hand, there was a sharp steel sword in his hand, and the steel sword sent out a slash. Kong Ruiming slashed at the figure that invaded the archives.

The intruder stopped suddenly, and the black umbrella was slightly tilted to block the sharp blow. A series of sparks shot out between the steel sword and the umbrella ribs, and then the old priest turned over and landed, and the long sword turned in a circle without stopping. Arc, and slashed towards the side of the intruder from another direction!

The long sword swirled, metal and iron sang, and the old man's mechanical limbs let out a deep and hoarse roar. The storm swordsmanship that had been honed for decades showed its power again after many years of silence. Like a sea wave, it splashed towards the blasphemous enemy, and between the arcs drawn by the long sword, layers upon layers of

The illusory ocean waves are constantly taking shape—these illusory ocean waves are becoming more and more real and heavier, and finally gradually showing the impact and power of real ocean waves!
The power of the Storm Goddess is filled in the continuous arc cuts, and the heavy pressure of the waves is poured into the specially forged steel sword. Each sword cut is accompanied by a salty sea breeze, causing the surrounding air and ground to tremble slightly.

The black umbrella in the intruder's hand was extremely hard, and it remained unshakable after more than a dozen slashes, but the figure itself kept retreating, retreating to the edge of the nearby bookshelf little by little under the impact of the continuous superimposed waves, feeling a little restless. Growls and whispers came from his body, full of demagogic power.

But the old priest had already sealed off all unnecessary perceptions, completely ignoring the noise made by the intruder - he knew that his attack would never stop, what the storm sword technique needed was this continuous pressure, like the waves cannot stop halfway, Moreover, these 'residues' split from the Son of the Sun all have power that cannot be underestimated. Once the suppression on one's side is interrupted, the opponent will break away from the fight in the next second.

At the same time, the old priest was also full of doubts—how did this blasphemous dross infiltrate the archives?This church is filled with the power of the Goddess, with countless protective mechanisms, and more than a dozen layers of guard posts from the inside to the outside. Even if the Son of the Sun himself comes, he will be blocked. How could he fail to find a "residue" intrusion?

Could it be... Isn't this residue a church that entered through the normal space-time structure?

At this moment, a sharp sound of piercing the air suddenly sounded, and the muscles of the old priest's whole body tensed instantly. The experienced warrior immediately realized that the long sword in his hand did not stop, but slightly adjusted an angle, ready to meet Sneak attack on intruders.

Severe pain came from under the ribs.

The continuous sword light stopped, and the old priest looked at the tentacle wrist that penetrated his body in astonishment, watching the blood gradually fall from the edge of the ragged clothes, the brass prosthetic limb exuded scalding heat, and was severely worn and rusted. (This chapter is not finished!)
Chapter 170 The Fork in History
The eclipsed gears creaked to a halt with a final noise.

Another second passed before the old priest realized what had happened—he was old.

He and these gears on him are old.

Accompanied by a disgusting sound, the ugly tentacles shrank back into the intruder's clothes little by little. This inhuman thing slowly approached the old man who was supporting his body with a long sword and tried not to fall down. The umbrella reveals a "head" that is constantly expanding and shrinking, like a blooming fleshy flower, and a hoarse voice comes from its "stamen".

That's barely legible lingua franca:
"Go and tell your gods that this ugly time is over and that the sun will rise from history."

"History..." The old priest's body trembled. He hadn't fallen down yet, but he could no longer raise his sword. Suddenly, he realized, "You polluted history?!"

The intruder seemed to be smiling, even though it was just a blooming flower of flesh and blood, there still seemed to be a hint of a smile in its trembling 'petals' and disordered teeth: "On the day when the fire ignites, everyone's wishes were all satisfied.”

The old priest lowered his head slowly, and the vitality quickly faded from this aging body. He seemed to have finally given up struggling in the world, and began to calmly wait for the final moment to come.

The intruder seemed quite bored with this result, and it put up its umbrella again, ready to leave.

However, in the next second, the roar of metal friction suddenly sounded, and the noise of gear rotation and oil pump pressurization came from the mechanical prosthesis that had completely stopped. The intruder turned around in shock, only to see a sword light attacking Come.

"Please witness!"

The old priest let out a roar, and the steel sword slashed at the intruder's body without any hesitation. This time, without the obstruction of the black umbrella, without the interference of the tentacles, the blade pouring all its strength was almost like tearing a rag. Straight across the body of the enemy.

The intruder was split by a sword in astonishment, and the two bodies fell to the ground.

However, in the next second, the two severed bodies suddenly made disgusting sounds of flesh and blood squirming, and countless tiny granulation tentacles spread out from the inside, and began to move closer to each other and reunite.

The intruder reshaped itself bit by bit, and a low growl full of anger came from its body.

The old priest had already lowered the point of his sword, and his body slowly fell to the ground. His cloudy eyes looked at the intruder.
Standing up a little bit, a relieved smile appeared on his face.

He knew that even with his last strength, it was impossible to kill this monster, even if it was residue, it was also the residue of the Son of the Sun, far from being able to contend with a dying and aging guardian with a steel sword, but at least, he was On his deathbed, he proved his allegiance to the goddess.

The storm has been witnessed and it is time to end.

The intruder stood up again, and in anger, tentacles full of pollution power spread out from his body, and sharp teeth clustered on the edges of the tentacles.

And in the sight of the old priest, he saw a fire ignited behind the intruder, a fire ignited in the archives, and the entire church was burning in the fire.

The icon of the goddess collapsed in the distance.

A Purand that was completely burned by the flames is emerging in his field of vision, and a branch of history that 'shards of the sun have successfully descended, and the defenders of Purand have been wiped out' is presented in his eyes.

In this way, the old man's consciousness gradually sank in this branch of history generated by pollution, but suddenly, he saw something else from the corner of his eye.

Clusters of green flames are spreading vaguely in the raging fire field, along the gap between light and shadow, along the phantom in the rising flames, the green flames split and flow everywhere.

Behind a collapsed bookshelf nearby, a cluster of dark green flames seemed to suddenly 'smell' something, and rushed over suddenly, like a hound that found prey, pounced on the intruder who was about to deliver the final blow.

The old priest looked at all this in a state of confusion. His consciousness was already floating between reality and fantasy. He could hardly tell whether what he was seeing was reality or an illusion. He saw that the intruder was suddenly wrapped in green flames (this chapter is not finished !)
Chapter 170 The Fork in History
The body containing the power of the Son of the Sun melted quickly like wax, and he heard the dying scream echoed throughout the archives, filled with unbelievable madness and panic.

Then, everything quiets down.

The sea of ​​fire receded, and the polluted history temporarily returned to the depths of the curtain. The archives located between the two branches of history fell into dead silence, no one visited, no one came.

One eye reflects the safe and surviving Prand, and one eye reflects the historical branch of the sun's death.

And he was not one of them—he had neither died nor survived the fire.

Cold blood flowed out from under the old priest's body, as if controlled by a powerful will, the blood flowed quietly on the ground, condensed into a series of footprints, slowly extending to the administrator's control not far away tower……

Chapter 170 The Fork in History