Maximum Comprehension: Taking Care of Swords In A Sword Pavilion

That convergence, like the surging of a great river, was a power never before seen in the Desolate Wilderness.

Battle intent.

Murderous aura.

Charge.

What did it matter if there was a million-strong army in front?

The triangular pyramid battle formation directly tore through the military formation of the million-strong army.

It wasn’t even a proper military formation; the million troops stood scattered, at a loss, torn open like tofu.

It took the thirty thousand cavalry only 15 minutes to break through the million-strong human race formation.

Then, following Zhu Rong’s high call, the battle formation turned, charging in another direction.

No matter your Totem Divine Beast, no matter your Divine Pattern Master, no matter your Ritual Master, in the face of the raging flood, all were but existences trampled into the mud.

Gallop.

Howl.

Swing.

Amidst a cacophony of roaring and wailing, the raging flood swept through the battle formation once more.

By now, the million-strong army had collapsed.

No one had any will to fight left.

Who would dare resist?

Their own Totem Divine Beast had been knocked dead; their own Ritual Masters had been turned into mash; with only sticks in their hands, how could they resist?

The roar filled the air, and instinctively, everyone turned and fled.

“Humph, this is the human race, with no courage at all…” In the distance, within the void, the thoughts of a divine beast’s soul transmitted.

But no one responded at this moment.

The ones fleeing were the human race, but weren’t those chasing from the same race?

The fleeing tribe lacked courage, but the ones from the human race who were in pursuit, they had enough courage, didn’t they?

“Kneel to be spared from death—”

Zhu Rong raised his long spear and bellowed to the sky.

“Kneel to be spared from death—”

The prolonged call pierced through the Wasteland.

One by one, bodies from the human tribe knelt to the ground.

In this world, as long as one didn’t die, everything else was fine.

They were just numerous tribes, big and small, merged together without any real bond, fighting without even knowing why.

Could such a tribe truly be expected to fight to their deaths?

And what meaning would there be in such a desperate fight?

“Blazing Prairie—”

Riding the Black Tiger Demon, Zhu Rong roared and charged forward.

“Certain victory—”

The thirty thousand cavalry bellowed in unison.

This battle resulted in at least eight hundred thousand of the human race surrendering.

Eight hundred thousand humans joined the Blazing Prairie Tribe.

These humans were taken to the main base of the Blazing Prairie Tribe.

When the army returned, the main base erupted with excitement.

Zhu Rong ignited the divine fire on the altar, offering sacrifices to heaven and earth.

“Heaven and earth favor us; perhaps, even the Desolate Wilderness has placed its last hope on the human race?” Han Muye looked up, his face bearing a slight smile.

He could feel that the Origin of the Desolate Wilderness had opened to him.

The power of the Origin, he could sense it, intercept it.

Within their tribe, a hundred thousand tribespeople received the inheritance of Zhu Rong’s divine patterns.

That was enough.

With these hundred thousand, they could directly suppress the tribes.

After the army returned to the tribal settlement, they did not organize another expedition.

But squads of the human race left the settlement, heading to the Wasteland.

To hunt demon beasts.

This time, Zhu Rong and his troops planned to forge a cavalry force that would strike terror into others.

The various tribes trembling in the Wasteland initially breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the Blazing Prairie Tribe not pursuing their victory.

But not three months later, all the tribes were thrown into turmoil again.

The Blazing Prairie Tribe had formed another eight thousand cavalry.

They were still hunting on the Wasteland, rounding up demon beasts suitable as mounts to be taken to the tribe for taming.

The Blazing Prairie Tribe’s cavalry had now reached a staggering hundred thousand.

How many more cavalry did they intend to form?

What were their plans?

For a time, the human tribes of the Wasteland, as well as the divine beasts and the clans backing them, all engaged in chaotic discussions.

In half a year’s time, the Blazing Prairie Tribe formed another twenty thousand cavalry.

By then, an alliance formed on the Wasteland had also been established.

An alliance to stop the Blazing Prairie Tribe.

The Wilderness Alliance.

Into the central tent of the Blazing Prairie Tribe walked a man in half-armor, striding quickly.

“Chieftain, Senior Brother Han, the Wilderness Alliance has sent a challenge,” he spoke.

In the man’s hands was a black stone inscribed with divine patterns.

The Desolate Wilderness had no written language, only divine patterns.

These divine patterns conveyed messages as well.

Zhu Rong took the stone, frowning.

“A showdown between Ritual Masters and Divine Pattern Masters?”

Send out the strongest Divine Pattern Masters and Ritual Masters for a competition.

The loser must submit unconditionally.

Zhu Rong’s face revealed a cold smile, “I have a hundred thousand cavalry. They don’t dare to fight us, yet they want us to compete in Ritual Masters and Divine Pattern Masters?”

“If they want a battle, then it shall be against my hundred thousand cavalry.”

His words made everyone else in the tent nod and laugh.

With countless cavalry and nearly two million tribespeople under the Blazing Prairie Tribe, why bother comparing Ritual Masters and Divine Pattern Masters with someone else?

“A showdown between Ritual Masters and Divine Pattern Masters is not entirely out of the question,” said someone at that moment.

All eyes turned to the head of the tent.

There sat Han Muye.

“Senior Brother Han, what do you mean?” Zhu Rong looked surprised.

The Blazing Prairie Tribe had some Ritual Masters and Divine Pattern Masters, but in terms of strength, they were hardly presentable.

Han Muye saying he wanted a showdown of Ritual Masters and Divine Pattern Masters, how would they compete?

Han Muye raised his hand, and a series of golden light screens appeared before him.

The light screens showed the locations of the various tribes in the Wasteland.

“Tell them, they choose the location of the competition, and we choose the manner of it.”

Turning his head to look at everyone in the tent, Han Muye’s expression remained calm, “I will go on this journey.”

No one spoke out against him, nor was there any question.

From the rise of the Blazing Prairie Tribe, everything was thanks to Senior Brother Han.

Even Chieftain Zhu Rong was a product of Senior Brother Han’s tutelage and achievements.

The Blazing Prairie Tribe was the fruit of Senior Brother Han’s efforts; he would not let it be squandered lightly.

If Senior Brother Han was willing to participate in a showdown between Ritual Masters and Divine Pattern Masters, he certainly had his reasons.