Chapter 510: The Last Battle!
The Black Lands was like a plateau, shoved high into the sky seemingly by geological forces. Far down below was the Western Desert.
This was Meng Hao’s first time seeing the border between the Black Lands and the Western Desert. Years ago when he left the Black Lands, he had not traveled through this area, but rather, had been teleported through an ancient portal to the Western Desert North region.
Seeing the lay of the land for the first time caused Meng Hao’s eyes to subconsciously widen slightly. Now, he finally understood why the Black Lands was the only place where one could escape from the Western Desert Apocalypse.
The Western Desert South region was much, much higher in elevation than the northern parts. That was why right now, the West, North, and East regions had already been completely submerged and transformed into a Violet Sea. In those areas, it even smelled like a salty sea. Here in the south, however, rivers had not yet even formed.
All of the falling rain continued to flow down toward the north.
The Western Desert South region was high enough as it was, but the Black Lands… were even higher. They jutted up thousands of meters into the sky, cliff-like, as if formed by an earthquake.
Needless to say, endless mountain ranges existed along the edge of the Black Lands. Those mountains seemed to connect to the sky itself, preventing the violet-colored tempest up above, along with any other living thing, from entering.
Those mountains made the Black Lands’ total elevation reach a shocking height. It could prevent the spread of the Violet Sea, and furthermore, there was only one way in….
Blackgate Fort!
It was eighty thousand meters wide, right in the middle of all the mountains. It stood there, tall, straight, enormous. All the Cultivators who saw it would gasp.
Blackgate Fort was the color of night, and its gate shut tight. Atop the eighty thousand meter wide fort stretched a battlement, upon which could be seen tens of thousands of Cultivators, bunched together in groups. They were chatting and laughing, as they looked out over the battlement, occasionally pointing down below.
What caused Meng Hao’s pupils to constrict was that the violet rain which he had grown so accustomed to over the years did not fall on Blackgate Fort. Outside, it continued to pour down, but not a drop fell onto Blackgate Fort or that enormous battlement.
Outside of Blackgate Fort, the land was filled with fog and mist, and was hazy. In fact, it had been years since Meng Hao even caught a glimpse of the sun. And yet there, within Blackgate Fort, a majestic blue sky could be seen, even fluffy white clouds.
Blackgate Fort was like a division between two different worlds.
What caused Meng Hao and Xu Bai’s faces to become extremely unsightly was that between Blackgate Fort and their two Tribes could be seen… more than twenty bandit Tribes positioned in formation across the land. These Tribes were currently looking at the Crow Divinity and great Black Dragon Tribes with avarice, ridicule and killing intent.
Twenty bandit Tribes, with a total of 200,000 Cultivators and 400,000 neo-demons. They were positioned in front of the fort, and it was clear that they intended to prevent anyone from entering the Black Lands.
Within their eyes, Meng Hao could see greed, savagery, and also a message.
“If we can’t get in, then you can forget about going in yourself! If we will die… then you will die with us!”
Meng Hao stood there silently. Then he noticed something located in front of these more than twenty Tribes. Tens of thousands of bamboo poles had been erected and were swaying slightly in the wind. All of these poles were covered with dried blood that had already turned black.
Atop each bamboo pole was a head. This was an entire Tribe, including old people and children. Further up could even be seen an enormous neo-demon head, which was obviously… this Tribe’s totemic Sacred Ancient.
All dead.
This was none other than the Heavenly Wind Tribe.
Even closer to Meng Hao and Xu Bai were more than 20,000 bamboo poles stuck into the ground, completely bare. The significance of these poles was obvious… they were there for the heads of the Crow Divinity and Black Dragon Tribes.
The battlefield in front of them was deathly silent. No one spoke. Only the soft whimpering of the wind could be heard. Hundreds of thousands of Cultivators began to breathe heavily, and their killing intent rose up into the sky.
Blackgate Fort… was not easy to enter!
Another sound could be heard. It came from the tall battlement on the Black Lands. Tens of thousands of Cultivators were there watching the proceedings as if it were some sort of play.
To the people atop the battlement, the members of the Crow Divinity Tribe, the Black Dragon Tribe and the more than twenty bandit Tribes were nothing more than actors on a stage, putting on a performance for their enjo