Chapter 1438: Hundred Heads, Hundred Arms

“What… are these things?”

The Demon Hunter took a deep breath, trying hard not to be captured by the fear before him, yet his hand gripping the iron hammer still trembled slightly.

The sinister sound became clear at this moment, not some abstruse language, nor a deceitful song, just a hoarse monotonic breathing.

The Soul-Reviving Corpses squeezed each other, struggled out from the gap, their steps staggered, spreading black mist. They were once corpses, but now their chests struggled to heave, forcing open the adhered trachea, letting the turbid hot air flood back in.

They breathed, gasping for air like drowning people, greedily savoring the honey-like air.

As fresh air filled their decayed lungs, they seemed to come alive again, the Secret Blood surged and throbbed within, reaching a critical point.

Beneath the gray-white skin, crimson traces blossomed, between the wounds on their bodies, bursts of blazing white flames ignited, they uttered wailing sounds until they were entirely enveloped by flames, like corpses marching out of the graveyard.

“Priest…”

The Demon Hunter’s words carried a tone of fear, he could clearly feel the erosion on the Soul-Reviving Corpses, its intensity was so high, almost indistinguishable from an out-of-control Demon Hunter.

Or rather… they were Demon Hunters themselves.

The bloody and dark history of the Demon Hunting Order was now vaguely revealed in their eyes, their gaze all fell on Anthony, hoping he could say something, do something to stabilize the Demon Hunters’ minds.

Anthony maintained silence, he himself was deeply shaken.

So many, resurrected Demon Hunters, they were supposed to be forgotten forever, now they have dug up their own graves and walked back into the sunlight.

A storm of erosion rose in the sealed hall, they carried high temperatures, almost pulling, devouring the souls beneath people’s shells.

“Guard the Gate of Celestial Kingdom.”

Anthony slowly raised the Nail Sword, staring ahead, his voice brooked no doubt.

The Demon Hunters seemed a bit hesitant, but they still raised their blades, then another roar broke out, Anthony’s eyes rolled with blazing white, the flames nearly bursting out dazzlingly.

“Regardless of who they are! Guard the Gate of Celestial Kingdom.”

The voice squeezed through Anthony’s teeth, his face contorted, the scars on his face seemed to come alive, like a ferocious centipede, crawling on his body.

Anthony strode forward, scorching flames clinging to the blade, he passed other Demon Hunters, taking the lead.

“Hold this place!”

The first roar came from someone unknown, followed by more roars, like a hungry pack of wolves, eager to tear their enemies into pieces.

The Demon Hunter was enveloped by the roars, he lowered his head slightly, seeing his reflection in the pool of blood.

He wasn’t stupid, and he believed that others weren’t either, Anthony’s words couldn’t truly inspire them, nor convince them to sacrifice.

But if not advancing, then what? Run away?

The Demon Hunter felt a trance, if he ran, where could he escape to?

He was a Demon Hunter, a believer of the Evangelical Church, this was the Holy City in his heart, and now the Holy City was engulfed in flames, besides here, where else could accept him?

Moreover, did he truly have the courage to abandon his duty?

Since the day he became a Demon Hunter, he knew that he wouldn’t have a good end, so, with the courage to face death, how could he retreat now?

The Demon Hunter re-gripped the iron hammer in his hand, suddenly understanding, he wasn’t deep in fear, he just needed a little time to think, to calm down.

He had the courage to face death, but not the courage to face the torment brought by escape.

“Hold this place…”

The Demon Hunter muttered softly, it was like a spell, he swung the iron hammer, and smashed forward fiercely.

All of the events on the Night of the Holy Arrival slowly overlapped with reality, as if time itself twisted, dredging that tragic night from the shadows of history again for a performance.

Anthony was under immense pressure, fighting the Soul-Reviving Corpses, who were resurrected Demon Hunters also blessed by The Inexpressible. The Secret Blood grew increasingly blazing, like molten iron.

To kill such formidable foes, the Demon Hunters must also step into the darkness together, transforming into wretched Demon.

Anthony hesitated, such actions were indeed a death sentence, and he wasn’t sure if stepping into darkness could change the desperate battle even slightly.

The new Pope’s words echoed by his ear, Anthony tried not to think about it, but the scenes kept flashing before his eyes.

“Your Eminence… have you fallen in battle already?”

He mumbled in a voice others couldn’t hear, then drew the Nail Sword, viciously severing the arm of a Soul-Reviving Corpse, scarlet threads rolled through the air, connecting the body and severed limb, when they were about to heal, a stream of fire swept by, burning it off.

The Demon Hunter swung his iron hammer, coordinating with Anthony’s assault, smashing the head of a Soul-Reviving Corpse, then lifted a foot to crush its ribcage, kicking it into the dark gap.

Everything at present was dire, the only solace being that the Soul-Reviving Corpses, like Demon, had no mind, just brutish beasts.