Chapter Forty-Seven: The Video Spreads
But—when they saw in the video that the Corpse King Jiang Chen emerged once again from the explosion, every soul was seized by a sense of despair and insignificance.
What manner of creature was this, that could withstand bullets and blasts without flinching? Even the collision of thirty armored vehicles, each weighing several tons, failed to move him in the slightest. Not a scratch marred his skin.
Such a being was utterly beyond the limits of human comprehension. Was this truly an enemy humanity could hope to face?
“He’s… still not dead?”
“And this is only a Secret Being… not yet at the level of a god… How can we ever fight against them?”
A few scattered comments on the screen brimmed with hopelessness.
Amidst the mournful music, three hundred seasoned soldiers, armed only with short blades, hurled themselves at the Corpse King Jiang Chen, fighting to the death.
They were ants before an elephant—Jiang Chen needed only to swing a casual fist to tear three or four men apart, shattering their bodies in an instant. The bodies of these hardened veterans were like blocks of tofu before his rotting might.
He was an unstoppable giant.
And yet, even so, the soldiers pressed forward like a pack of wolves, one after another, never faltering.
There was no dramatic background music, no forced filters to heighten the tragedy. Everyone simply watched as each vibrant life was silenced by the giant’s blows, their last furious roars echoing:
“For Daxia, we fight!”
“Fight to the death, never retreat!”
“Our mission—hold him off for five minutes!”
“Thirty-two seconds left, brothers—hold on!”
“I’ll go on ahead—ha ha!”
Not a trace of fear marked their faces. Instead, they laughed as they charged. Blood soaked the earth, staining their green uniforms deep red.
In the end, not one of the three hundred survived. They vanished, just like that.
At that moment, as the Corpse King, still unscathed, charged toward the evacuated workers, silence fell over all. Even the scrolling comments vanished.
For a video that had garnered hundreds of millions of views in mere minutes—not a single comment appeared.
Every citizen of Daxia who witnessed this scene trembled so much they could not even type.
On the screen, only the young female officer remained, thrown to the ground but protected to the last by the fallen soldiers.
She gripped her military blade and, like a mantis before a chariot, rushed at the blood-soaked, rotting giant.
With a single punch, the giant sent her flying over a dozen meters; her blade snapped in two.
No sooner had she landed than a bluish-grey light flashed. The giant was already beside her.
“Such insignificant life dares to oppose me?” he sneered.
His foot crashed down toward her head, about to crush her skull like a cherry tomato.
But—as her head was about to be smashed, a young man’s figure appeared before her with terrifying speed!
With a single slash, he pierced through the giant’s foot!
In that instant, the comments exploded:
“Who… who is that?!”
“Damn, he pierced the giant’s foot?”
“Wait, he looks so familiar… isn’t that the Supreme Commander from the TV, that boy named Lin Fan?”
“It really is—the Supreme Commander!”
“I always wondered how a high schooler could suddenly become Commander-in-Chief. Now I see… the nation’s wisdom!”
“Lin Fan, take him down!”
“Kill him!!”
“Avenge them!”
Everyone remembered that youthful figure—Lin Fan, Supreme Commander of the Daxia Central Command.
It was Lin Fan’s first public appearance.
Before this, many had doubted how a high school student could possibly be Commander-in-Chief.
But at this moment, everyone agreed—he was worthy.
Because in that moment, this figure gave people hope.
It turned out that against such beings, humanity did possess the power to wound them.
If they could be hurt, they could be killed.
Suddenly, the unstoppable giant on the screen no longer seemed quite so terrifying.
Old grudges and new hatreds surged like a tidal wave.
“Take him down!!” The comment stream was ablaze.
A soaring, passionate soundtrack rose in the video.
The Corpse King glared at Lin Fan—but the next moment, an old man appeared.
He wore a Daoist robe, dust whisk in hand.
“I know him! That’s Master Dao Wanqian, President of the Daxia Daoist Association!”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Could it be…”
The viewers sensed something momentous.
Then, “Fire of the Ninth Heaven, purify all evil!” Master Dao Wanqian’s eyes snapped open, flames flickering in their depths.
He hurled a talisman, its vermillion seal blazing as it caught the wind and shot toward the Corpse King.
The Corpse King tried to evade, but the yellow talisman seemed locked onto him, whirling closer on the gusts.
In a flash, thirty-six talismans encircled the Corpse King within a hundred meters.
“Earth’s nine suns—arise!” cried Dao Wanqian.
The talismans ignited, vermillion patterns flaring.
A burst of fire erupted—not blue like ordinary flames, but pure, blazing red.
The inferno engulfed the corpse.
For a moment, even the comment stream fell silent.
This was beyond anyone’s imagination.
Was this legendary Daoist magic?
But before the audience could recover, Master Dao Wanqian’s appearance was followed by an unbroken succession of wonders.
A Confucian scholar uttered a prophetic verse, borrowing the power of heaven and earth to conjure a river of falling starlight.
A Daxia assassin, silent as a shadow, struck with a blade that flashed like a star and vanished without a trace.
A fist thundered like a tiger, fierce and unstoppable.
A Vajra monk glared with righteous wrath, subduing monsters with compassion.
Scene after scene unfolded, each more fantastic than the last.
These people displayed powers beyond belief, and the Corpse King, impervious to guns and bombs, was forced to retreat again and again under this onslaught.
What excited the viewers most was that all of these were practitioners of Daxia’s ancient martial arts.
No one could have imagined, when modern weapons failed, what hope and elation these descendants of ancient lineages could bring.
“Ancient martial arts!”
“That’s—Xingyi Fist!”
“That’s Master Mo Buzhi, the Confucian sage—he’s flying!”
“He turned poetry into a waterfall! Is that divine inspiration?”
“That’s the Compassionate Master from the Buddhist sect—I met him at the temple!”
“The Vajra Demon-Subduing Staff—I’ve seen it online! My god, is that real Buddhist aura? Has a Buddha descended to earth?”
“Is that a ninja? So cool!”
“No, that’s the ancestor of ninjas—the Mo Hidden Starfall Sect of Daxia! But yes, so cool!”
“My god, when Master Wang Hu of the Xingyi Sect punched, I thought he was a real tiger! Was that a special effect, or true inner power?”
Such dazzling scenes opened a new door for the people of Daxia—a new world awaited beyond.
Humanity really could stand against those formidable beings.
Moreover, there were some who, like gods, wielded mysterious powers.
Just as the audience breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the battle was over, the Corpse King—gravely wounded and near death—suddenly roared. The blood soaking the earth surged toward him, his body rapidly regenerating. His severed right arm grew anew, the torn tendons of his left hand healed, and even his ragged skin was restored.
He grew stronger still.
A more terrifying aura erupted, the ground shattering around him as the Corpse King rose, now seven meters tall, staring down at all like a supreme being regarding ants.
“Insignificant humans.”
“You would dare try to kill me?”
“Heh… I am the Corpse King Jiang Chen. Your lives will become my fea—”
At that instant, as he grew ever stronger rather than falling, everyone watching broke out in a cold sweat, all hope snuffed out.
The Corpse King seemed truly unstoppable.
That crushing despair returned.
Was humanity truly powerless before such a being…
But—
Just as everyone braced themselves for another tragic clash, the Corpse King’s words were cut short.
A flash of cold light flickered in the air.
A head tumbled to the ground with a thud.
The towering body collapsed, unmoving.
The young man stood beside it, expressionless, holding his blade in one hand.
“First Squad of the Godslayer Army—battle complete.”
He sheathed his sword.
Everyone who clicked on the video stared, mouths agape, minds blank.
The kill had been so swift, so decisive!
A single stroke—beheading!
None had imagined that Lin Fan, who had never appeared publicly before, would reveal himself in such fashion—and with a single blow, slay the rampaging Corpse King.
Silence.
Then, seconds later, the comments exploded:
“Amazing!”
“That was so satisfying—vengeance!”
“Ah, those who sacrificed before… Thank goodness they arrived in time, or the losses would have been greater.”
“My god, Lin Fan is so strong? Wasn’t he supposed to be just a high schooler?”
“He’s so cool! I’m in love!”
“Isn’t the Supreme Commander supposed to strategize from behind the lines? Ours is so fierce—and so powerful…”
The comments flooded the screen as the video ended.
Lin Fan quietly put away his phone.
“This video shouldn’t have been released,” said Master Mo Buzhi in the carriage, his voice low. “Foreign powers may analyze it and gauge our strength… It’s a risk.”
Lin Fan understood what he meant.
Those foreign powers might target people like them.
But—
“Heh. If they believe it, all the better—they’ll at least be on guard against the descent of gods,” Lin Fan said coolly. “Besides, in Daxia, are you really afraid of foreign threats?”
Mo Buzhi was silent for a moment, then nodded. “True enough.”
“This video was really meant for the people of Daxia,” Lin Fan said gravely. “After seeing it, everyone will know what kind of enemy we face, and how brutal the coming battles will be.”
“Some truths are better known sooner than later.”
“And this video will also show them: though the enemy is strong, Daxia possesses the power to defeat them.”
He lowered his voice. “As long as hope lives in the hearts of Daxia’s people, then Daxia will always have hope.”
Mo Buzhi nodded. “Yes. If this video spreads, it will help with recruitment too.”
And in truth, the video was spreading at a speed that surpassed everyone’s imagination.