Chapter 572: The bones of the body are made of weapons, the daughter of the ancient priest

Second, the gift came.

From the ancient country that perished here.

From civilizations that are like tombstones.

It seemed as if an illusory soul raised a weapon, and the weapon turned into a long river.

It was once dazzling, but it transformed and sublimated with the master's conquests. With the master's death, it was buried in the earth, degenerated and decayed, and turned into a primitive weapon.

A one-handed longsword, a two-handed greatsword, a book-like magical weapon, a crescent-shaped longbow, an extremely slender spear... every weapon has a marble-like golden luster.

They have no edge and no power, but they contain the will of the dead and infinite possibilities. They are the embryos that can shine brightly again and leave their names in the world.

The greatsword formed the sharp fangs of the pitch-black dragon, the longsword formed the slender tail of the pitch-black dragon, the longbow formed the huge ribs of the pitch-black dragon, and the long spear turned into the jagged dragon horns on the top of the head that pierced the sky...

The book-like magical instruments covered the entire body, transforming into magical steel scales that possessed both magic and objects.

Suddenly, flames, frost, thunder, thousands of winds and clouds, and three thousand pure waters appeared on the book... Hymns, patterns, and runes unfolded the gorgeous beauty of the elements.

The dark dragon with its eyes closed stretched out its incomparably hard dragon spine, which belonged to both humans and dragons and was forged by the energy of the earth veins.

The largest and most important is the dragon's skeleton and the proudest head. Only this white jade body that grows out of the earth, with human wisdom and the pride of a sword, can carry it.

However, now the white jade is pitch black, the earth is pitch black, the darkness engulfs everything, and all the weapon embryos have also turned black.

Dragon fangs, dragon tail, dragon bones, dragon horns… the light of the purple quality flickered, blending with the darkness of the main body.

The forces became more consistent and harmonious than ever before.

Crimson dragon blood, crimson dragon muscles, crimson veins...showing the vitality of life.

A moonlight-like woman appeared in Jiang Yi's dream, bringing with her countless memories of gazing at her.

Dragon Ridge Snow Mountain, the city of snow burials.

In the ancient kingdom, the secret room of the city of Shar Findnir.

In the secret room, there are three ancient and mysterious murals that record history and civilization.

There is a round altar in the middle, with a two-handed sword emitting bright blue light.

In the distant past, after the long spikes that froze the sky were lowered, the priests of the ancient country once climbed up the sacrificial site that was originally facing the sky.

He... was at that sacrificial site, unable to hear the voice of the sky, and unable to return.

The guidance sought became a fruitless dream of the dead.

Today, Jiang Yi is lying on the place where the sacrifice was once held.

The Frost Nail smashed the sacrificial site close to the sky into the mountain, breaking the mountain's earth veins.

The moonlight-like woman just looked at the pitch-black dragon on the sacrificial field, which was becoming increasingly ferocious and powerful.

She was the daughter of a priest. She once dreamed of a pitch-black dragon that blocked out the sun. It was a sinister omen that seemed like a prophecy.

But since her death, the dark dragon has not arrived.

Until later, the dream came true. A pitch-black dragon that blocked out the sun descended on the snow-capped mountains and died there. The dragon's blood smeared the ruins of the country, seeped into the veins of the earth, and flowed into the ashes buried among the corpses.

Dragons die, but new dragons are born.

In the long river of history in Jiang Yi's mind, she saw her past self, and the clear sky and green land that she had forgotten to the point that she no longer knew what color they were.

A view beyond the cold, a sight of melting ice and snow.

So beautiful.

She knelt down like a priestess, with endless tears in her eyes.

"sorry!"

"You shouldn't have to endure this."

"You shouldn't be left like Imon Roka, inheriting this cold legacy."

She heard a distorted and resentful voice, coming from "Uku", the cursed Uku, who was represented by the Frost Armor Hill King, and whose voice was left in the long river of history.

Madness, resentment.

"May this sky of ice and snow burn until there is no more life left in the world."

"May we turn into ashes, sail with the wind, and catch up with the foreigner who abandoned the princess and never returned."

"May the black dragon that the princess dreamt of, covering the sun, paint the hateful earth with red poison."

Jiang Yi listened, his expression filled with pity and... a sigh.

Whatever he wants to do, he follows his own will, not the will forced upon him by others.

This resentment in the sky would allow him to ask the sky and question the coming of divine punishment when he has the chance, but not now, this unwise moment, this kidnapped moment.

The Taoist heart of immortals is to protect the world and help people, not the evil heart of seeking revenge.

The sword of the sword master is for protection, not for killing.

"The power against the world!"

That is the lament and longing of "Uku".

The priest's daughter, who was as bright as moonlight, carried the thoughts of a country, lowered her head with a complex sense of shame. She was a princess, and she could only do what a princess should do.

The subjects' insane resentment and unwillingness to give up were not affected by her.

"sorry!"

"sorry!"

"May your will be clear again, may your life stand tall again on the land of flowers, and may the birds and white foxes no longer be afraid of your darkness."

"Sorry!"

She stretched out her hand, and the "Snow-Buried Star Silver" in the secret room of the Snow Mountain appeared in her hand.

The two-handed sword composed of black, blue and ice-blue was emitting blue light, which became brighter and brighter, as bright as the ice-blue sky.

This is an ancient greatsword, a greatsword forged from star silver.

It has the power of frost burial that can create "eternal ice crystal core" due to its extreme cold, and it has the sharp edge that can cut through wind and snow.

"The lost warrior of Ice Wind returns to the ruins in the empty valley." She smiled, and the fourth mural that could not be completed, the fourth mural prepared for the warrior, was painted after her death.

Unfortunately, it was a fruitless journey, bitter fruit without flowers, and the bright light that left again.

The dark blood on the sword has now disappeared, but the remaining disputes, the song of steel and blood, the anger against the sky, are still there, still there...

Because this sword not only belongs to the warriors in a foreign land, but also belongs to the last hope of a country.

An unfulfilled wish and a story without a happy ending embodies the power of the sword.

The priestess raised her head and looked at the feathers on the black dragon. There was a relic in it that belonged to him, "Imon Roka", and to her, the girl who entrusted the important task to the warrior.

The birds that do not seek caves or build nests, but sing proudly in the cold wind, are proud birds of prey that do not belong to the cold winter, and they make long cries of defiance and hopelessness in the blizzard.

"The will to break the ice", the feather of death,

"This sword..." The priestess sent the sword to the tip of the black dragon's tail, and a cold light spread out, "May you cut through the wind and snow, and may you wake up from the long dark dream of ice and snow."

“They are too impatient, but if they are not impatient, there will not be such a good opportunity to influence you next time.”

"Finally, thank you for your vision, that verdant vision in the past, carrying the long river of history and vast ancient books of the memories of our deceased."

“This is what a melting snow mountain looks like…”

Her figure is the condensation of the memories of the dead. She inserts silver branches in the wind and snow, branches that cannot grow.

The horns of the pitch-black dragon grow and branch like trees, full of cold light and vitality.

"This is a contradictory girl. Her identity as a princess and her identity as a girl leave her with no other choice but to express her infinite blessings."

"Is it the moonlight that remains on the ground after the ancient country's snow and wind cover the sky?"

Jiang Yi murmured as he looked at the endless darkness outside the illusory world in his mind.

"I will wake up from this unsuccessful, dark dream of yours."