A Female Evangelist in Another World (Ongoing, please do not reply yet, thank you)

This life is a predestined fate, don't ask the heavens, don't believe there's more sorrow in the world. Chapter Two: Battle Through
Time Updated: 2008-05-11 20:42:42 Words: 3625

Yunmeng Continent, in the southern mountains of the Ten Thousand Mountains.
The Noki tribe's temple, the so-called temple, is actually just a cave. Their Buluotu [the Noki people's respectful title for a prophet, meaning an all-knowing elder] opened his wise eyes and calmly instructed the waiting saintess outside: "Xingyue, go and gather all the tribespeople to the altar. I just received a revelation. Let us dance the Shangbaga and worship our god. A new turning point has arrived."
"Yes, great Buluotu." The eleven-year-old saint bowed respectfully and turned to leave.
Reaching the village entrance, Xingyue saw the elderly Zhuoba [village chief] sitting quietly at his doorstep, smiling as he watched the young men and women bustling about. Xingyue ran briskly forward and called out to Zhuoba in a clear voice, "Grandpa, the great Buluotu has asked you to gather the people at the altar. He says there's a sacrifice to be performed."
"Oh? Didn't the great Buluotu say what the sacrifice is for?"
"Hehe, of course he did! The great Buluotu has received a new revelation. We will dance the Xiangbaga! He says a new turning point has arrived!"
"Oh!" Zhuoba's wrinkles smoothed out. "Then go and inform the people. I understand. I'll go get the sun drum now. While you're at it, tell your grandmother to prepare the offerings and have a few people carry the boar that your brother Awang hunted yesterday to the altar." "
Understood!" Xingyue said as she ran towards the village.
Zhuoba watched his only granddaughter skip and hop, her two long, black braids swaying as she ran, and couldn't help but sigh: "She's still just a child! If only her mother were still here."
In the center of the village, beside the circular altar, the Noki people were divided into two lines, led by Zhuoba and Zhuosheng respectively. The men wore white, collarless, front-opening cotton blouses with circular, colorful ray-shaped patterns embroidered on the sleeves and a radiant sun embroidered on the back, paired with wide white cotton trousers. The women wore cape-like pointed hats, short, front-opening, collarless jackets adorned with seven-colored patterns, and exquisitely embroidered triangular pockets with circular silver ornaments on the chest, paired with short skirts of black and white stripes with trim. This attire was only worn during the Torch Festival and at the tribe's weddings.
In the distance, Xingyue helped Buluotuo walk slowly towards them. As he ascended the altar steps, all the tribesmen prostrated themselves, chanting strange syllables. This was the language passed down from their ancestors, preserved by the soul imprints of each successive Buluotu before their passing. The Noki people only knew that their ancestors originally lived in the north of the Yunmeng Continent, a land of boundless grasslands and herds of cattle and sheep. Every sunrise, they would worship their gods; every nightfall, they would gather around the bonfire, singing and dancing the Xiaxiaga. Now, however, only during the Torch Festival could they forget their sorrows and sing freely. There, in the vast forests and exquisite treehouses, could lull them to sleep.
The Noki tribe was once incomparably powerful. However, for some reason, they gradually declined. Their Buluotu possessed mysterious witchcraft, training powerful warriors. Each generation of Buluotu leaves their soul imprint in the sacred ground. When they die, the next Buluotu enters the sacred ground and receives the prophet's legacy through the soul imprint left by the previous Buluotu. However, during one generation's succession, there were two brothers, both the most outstanding warriors in the tribe. The elder brother was upright and brave, while the younger brother was intelligent and agile. From a young age, the younger brother always wanted to outdo his brother, always striving to be superior. Yet, Buluotu chose the elder brother, which the younger brother could not accept. He believed that only he could lead the tribe to glory, so he left in anger.
Later, Buluotu received a revelation, left his people, and set off alone on the Aegean continent. No one knew what he was doing. But soon, the elder brother learned from the soul imprint left by Buluotu in the sacred ground that their great Buluotu had met with an accident and passed away. Just as the elder brother finished his sun worship ceremony and was receiving the legacy in the sacred ground, the younger brother returned. He rushed into the sacred ground, snatched the crystal ball containing the soul imprint from his brother, and imprinted it on his forehead. Unexpectedly, lacking the soul imprint of his predecessor, Buluotu, he was reduced to dust in the crystal explosion. His stunned brother, unable to intervene, could only watch the tragedy unfold. Worst of all, he hadn't fully inherited the legacy; most of the witchcraft was lost. Only divination and a few methods for training warriors and raising poisonous insects remained. Thankfully, their medical skills survived. They were then driven out of the north by a sudden enemy attack. Most of the warriors, protecting their people's retreat, fell into eternal slumber on the grasslands. The
current Noki people only remember that their ancestors lived in the north, and that one day they will return, guided by the gods, to worship the sun on the grasslands once more.
*Dong, dong, dong…*
As the holy maiden struck the sacred sun drum, everyone dispersed, forming a circle around the altar. To Buluotu's prayers, they danced the shamaka to the drumbeats.
Golden light gradually emanated from the square stone platform in the center of the altar. Shrouds of light, invisible to the naked eye, emanated from everyone's foreheads, converging on the altar. As Buluo's chanting grew faster, the golden light intensified.
The drumbeats quickened, and the footsteps accelerated.
Suddenly, a beam of golden light descended from the sky, striking the stone platform directly. Everyone was blinded by the dazzling light. A strange black hole appeared within the golden light, from which a long, rectangular object flew out and landed steadily on the platform. Yet, no one noticed any of this. [Ga, meaning dance.]
In the southern part of the Aegean continent, on a distant sea
, high in the sky, the Dark Dragon King Mandela confronted an eight-winged angel. Mandela was covered in wounds, and precious dark golden dragon blood flowed freely from his body.
"Now, the entire continent is basically under the control of your Light God Clan. Must you exterminate us all? We dragons have already retreated to Dragon Island, promising never to appear on the continent again. Why? Why do you still insist on this?" "
Your Excellency Mandela, you seem to be mistaken. You no longer belong to the dragon race; they no longer acknowledge your identity. Hahaha!"
"Despicable birdmen! It was you who brought me to this state! If I hadn't been deceived by you back then, how could I have ended up like this? You are still hunting down our dragons. Those dragons who didn't have time to retreat to Dragon Island back then are probably almost wiped out by you!" Mandela roared angrily. "About bathing in dragon blood to make lowly reptiles as powerful as our dragons, and our treasure—all of this was leaked by you!
" "Heh, Your Excellency Mandela, we were merely telling the truth to our devout followers. Is that wrong? The game should end." "This time, for your sake, we broke our promise and even lost several angel squads. You are truly powerful. My time is almost up. Come, let me end your sinful life! You may not know, but thousands of miles away, a group of pirates are heading this way. I wonder what kind of high-level equipment they can make. I heard that a staff made from dragon bones can amplify magic power by thirty percent! If you inlay a ninth-tier crystal core, and..."
"Shut up! You despicable birdman, I will leave you nothing! Let it all end!"
"Then come on, let me see how powerful the noble Dark Dragon King can still wield magic!" Lu Jiaman said nonchalantly, "I will give you time to complete the magic!"
Mandela suddenly calmed down from his rage. He began chanting mysterious dragon magic. Strings of difficult dragon words flowed from his mouth, and the elements of heaven and earth frantically gathered towards him. As time passed, the eight-winged angel Luca, who had been so arrogant moments before, gradually became solemn. He slowly raised the Archangel's Sword in his hand, holding it in front of him. Although he couldn't fully control the power within the sword, his father, as an elder, had given his only son the divine weapon.
Various elements continued to pour into Mandela. The world was filled with violent magical energy.
Gradually, Luca's expression changed from solemnity to horror, and finally to terror. It was too late for him to attack.
"What is this?" His voice, trembling with fear, was hysterical.
Mandela, having just finished chanting, smiled. "Little friend, don't you know? Our dragon race has a rather useless spell called Dragon Burst. Because it takes a very long time to chant, dragons almost never use it. Hehe, you should feel honored today, because this spell is about to be displayed before your eyes."
A world-destroying energy suddenly erupted from Mandela, causing the magical elements in the world to dance joyfully. Lu Jia turned and desperately flew backward. At this moment, he wished he had twelve pairs of wings. As he flew backward, he chanted a long incantation.
In the sky, a golden gate gradually appeared, slowly becoming clearer.
"Gate of Angels, it's too late." A mocking smile appeared on Mandela's face. "Farewell, my dragon race. Devour everything, Dark Dragon Burst!" After speaking, Mandela's body began to disappear eerily. Rings of black ripples spread outward from Mandela. They quickly caught up with Lu Jia, who was frantically flying towards the Gate of Angels. Wherever the ripples passed, everything turned to dust. Only the Archangel's Sword remained, struggling desperately. The dense aura of light emanating from its blade gradually thinned. Mandela's Dragon Explosion, drawing in immense energy, created a spatial rift at the center of this silent explosion, which grew ever larger.
Our protagonist, Liang Tian, dramatically tumbled out of the rift, plummeting downwards and instantly escaping the energy field. His casual clothes had transformed into tattered garments. Strangely, however, his body was completely unharmed, not even his hair was damaged.
Finally, everything returned to calm. The Archangel's Sword, having exhausted its last vestige of light energy, became a neutral divine artifact, and it too plummeted down with Liang Tian.

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