Chapter 1072
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Chapter 1072: The Celestial Master Asks About the Nordic Gods
The Moral Celestial Master stepped forward, lightly gliding over the broken half of the rainbow bridge, and let out a soft exclamation, looking ahead in surprise.
At the end of the rainbow bridge stood a giant clad in resplendent golden armor, holding a holy sword, standing like a mountain. A powerful divine force surged from within him, and his furious eyes were filled with a lofty battle intent.
“Is this the rumored guardian of the Asgard rainbow bridge?”
The Moral Celestial Master raised an eyebrow, his gaze calmly sweeping over him. “He does possess some strength.”
“The Celestial Master of the Great Xia…” Heimdall stood at the head of the rainbow bridge, coldly staring at the approaching figure. “Sorry, this path is closed.”
“Is that so?”
The Moral Celestial Master replied lightly, stepping forward with his right foot and gently stamping down.
The entire rainbow bridge, along with half of Asgard, shook violently under this step!
In an instant, all colors in the world were erased, leaving only black and white. Beneath this scene reminiscent of an old movie, only the Moral Celestial Master in his Daoist robe retained his original colors.
Heimdall blinked, and the figure of the Daoist vanished from his sight.
Just as he was about to take action, a deep voice echoed from behind him, “The road to the temple is too far; I still need a mount… You, quite good.”
Heimdall’s pupils suddenly contracted!
A hand gently landed on his shoulder, and a torrent of black and white energy surged into Heimdall’s body. Mysterious Daoist techniques intertwined within him, and the massive figure clad in golden armor began to shrink at a visible speed!
His hands, which held the holy sword, gradually transformed into hooves, and his furious eyes lost their luster. The giant body curled up on the ground, green fur intertwining with his skin, like a giant bag enclosing his entire being.
In less than ten breaths, the giant guarding the end of the rainbow bridge was transformed by the Daoist technique into a green ox, standing docilely beside the Daoist.
The Moral Celestial Master reached out and patted the large ox’s back, mounting it with ease, and smiled faintly:
“Rest assured, this Daoist technique can only last for a day. After the time is up, you will return to your original form… Today, I will trouble you to carry me for a while.”
The green ox, under the Moral Celestial Master’s hand, showed no resistance, its dull gaze turning towards the direction of the supreme temple, and it began to walk step by step towards the divine mountain, carrying the Daoist.
On the divine mountain.
Except for Odin, the king of the gods on the throne, the other Norse gods on either side were filled with shock.
“He turned Heimdall into an ox?!” Thor exclaimed in disbelief. “How on earth did he do that?!”
Loki stared intently at the distant Daoist riding the ox, his brow furrowed tightly, his narrow eyes flickering with a glimmer of thought, pondering something.
The god of war Tyr’s eyes ignited with anger. He clenched his teeth and stepped forward, bowing to Odin on the throne, and spoke solemnly:
“Father, please allow me to lead the Norse warriors to confront him! We cannot let him breach the temple; it is an insult to Asgard!”
Odin shifted his gaze from the Moral Celestial Master, glanced at him, and nodded slightly.
“Go.”
“Yes!”
Tyr’s eyes flashed with lofty battle intent. Without another word, he drew his sword and rushed out of the temple, vanishing like a streak of light.
…
Asgard, Sunset Avenue.
On this main road paved with jade that led straight from the rainbow bridge to the divine mountain, a Daoist riding a green ox was slowly walking through the air.
Numerous Norse gods and divine attendants gathered on either side of the avenue, gazing at the Daoist on the ox, their eyes filled with various emotions—fear, curiosity, worry, and anger…
These onlooking Norse gods were not all skilled in battle; in fact, a large portion were gentle gods like Bragi, who only knew how to plant, play instruments, weave, and compose poetry. Very few could muster the courage to step forward and intercept this terrifying figure from the Great Xia.
The Moral Celestial Master rode the green ox, leisurely walking along Sunset Avenue for nearly a stick of incense’s worth of time, yet not a single god made a move to stop him, which amused him somewhat.
“No wonder you managed to survive the erosion of the mist a hundred years ago… Heh.”
The Moral Celestial Master lightly mocked.
He rode the ox through Sunset Avenue and arrived at the foot of the divine mountain where the supreme temple was located. Just as he was about to ascend, countless streaks of light flew in from the horizon, transforming into armored Norse gods, standing in disarray on the thousand-step staircase leading up the mountain.
At the last step, the god of war Tyr held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, coldly watching the Celestial Master at the foot of the mountain, his eyes flashing with a chilling killing intent.
“It seems not all Norse gods are cowards.”
The Moral Celestial Master lightly leaped down from the ox’s back, patted its horns, raised his hand, and a wooden sword instantly whistled out from the supreme temple at the mountain’s peak, landing in his grasp.
Clad in black and white robes, holding the wooden sword, he calmly began to ascend the steps.
“Kill him!”
The god of war Tyr growled, and the many gods standing on the steps looked down at the Daoist, rushing down in a swarm!
Countless brilliant divine lights erupted from the mountain. The Moral Celestial Master, holding the sword in one hand, showed no change in expression. He gently raised the fragile wooden sword, and in an instant, the surrounding world was once again dyed in black and white.
Pale and dark divine attacks crashed down but could not touch him in the slightest, all eerily swirling around him, while a few strands of disheveled hair danced in the wind, chaotic yet orderly.
He raised the wooden sword and casually slashed in front of him, black divine blood gushing forth, splattering onto the stone steps of the mountain.
Even facing the onslaught of the gods, his steps did not falter; instead, he ascended the steps with a peculiar rhythmic pace, each sword stroke causing large groups of gods to fall.
Behind him, the white sun slowly rose.
Clang—!
With a light sound, Tyr’s right arm was severed by the sword light, crashing to the ground. He spat out a mouthful of black blood and fell from the mountaintop.
The Moral Celestial Master stepped forward, reaching the last step. The black and white colors enveloping the world finally dissipated, and a red sun hung behind him, casting a bright red hue over the blood-soaked stone steps.
Grass sandals, Daoist robe, Daoist hairpin, wooden sword.
The Celestial Master was not stained with a single drop of blood; he looked like a Daoist who had just bathed and burned incense, still exuding a faint fragrance.
He held the sword and gently stepped into the temple, looking up at the one-eyed old man seated on the pure white throne, and smiled slightly:
“Odin, I have come… to kill you.”
