Forty Millenniums of Cultivation-Chapter 3453: Untitled

The storm of death came too suddenly like thunder on a summer afternoon.

The devout believers of the Fist God found it hard to accept such a terrifying picture. They were all frozen like weird statues.

They were not even prepared for their facial features and facial muscles. Their previous contempt and excitement were still intact, but they felt that something was not right. Confusion was leaking out of their every pore and condensing into mist in front of their eyes.

In the mist, Gus was somewhat unsteady, like a devil that had crawled out of hell.

Gus was as confused as they were.

He looked at the two meat pillars that were only left with his legs and wondered whether or not he should continue calling them ‘Han Kou’. Then he looked at the ‘Thunder III’ in his arms.

The recoil of the combination of ice and fire made his limbs numb. The needle-like numbness gradually melded the dream with reality.

I did this.

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This is my strength.

I killed Han Kou, who was as famous as my sister in town!

Gus grinned as happily as a devil.

Within a breath, the ‘Thunder III’ anti-materiel assault rifle was aimed at the second target, which was ‘Zhou Yan’ behind ‘Han Guo’.

Zhou Yan was not scared at all.

It was because he had been immersed in the belief that the Fist God was invincible since childhood.

His extremely sincere logical thinking mode did not have the ability to make him think about what had just happened.

Therefore, Zhou Yan simply forgot what had just happened.

It didn’t matter whether he was fooling himself or not. In short, he regarded everything that had happened just now as some kind of camouflage, an illusion of the devil, and a test of the Fist God.

As long as he was firm and fearless, he would be able to punch the enemy.

Then, the supreme, invincible, and unique Fist God would definitely bless him, protect him, and even descend upon him, right?

Thinking like this, Zhou Yan leapt high towards Gus.

Twenty years of bitter training… From the time when he was learning how to speak to the sandbags, to the time when other people were playing with each other, to the time when he was still gritting his teeth in bitter training, from the earnest expectation of his parents to the solemn gaze of the towering statue of the Fist God in the Fist God Hall, the memories of the past seemed to have transformed into a brand-new strength that poured into his every nerve, every vein, every muscle, and every cell.

“Help me, Fist God!”

He roared and felt that something that had been hibernating inside his body was awakening.

For a moment, countless marvelous techniques popped up in his brain. He was suddenly enlightened, as if he had been reborn and surpassed his peak.

“A last-minute breakthrough!”

Everyone saw the intense flames of war surging out of Zhou Yan’s body.

It was indeed the blessing of the Fist God. It turned into glamorous armor and covered him.

It was a sign that he had grasped the ultimate secret of fist arts and made a breakthrough.

No one had expected that Zhou Yan, a young man who had always been down-to-earth and therefore somewhat unknown, would burst out with such tremendous strength with the stimulation of the devil apostles and his own devotion and tenacity.

In the blink of an eye, everyone’s state of mind was reversed. The scene where Han Kou was blown into pieces by Gus had been forgotten by them. What replaced it was Zhou Yan’s brilliance.

Illuminated by the brilliance that was as glamorous and majestic as the rising sun, all the demons and evil spirits would be blown to smithereens.

Everybody was amazed and delighted.

Then, with eyes of appreciation, praise, and delight, they watched as the shining, sincere young man was cut in half by a barrage of bullets.

“Pa Da!”

Zhou Yan, who had been cut in half, fell to the ground like two lumps of meat.

Yes. The Fist God had indeed blessed him and given him a breakthrough during the battle. He now had a body-protecting spiritual gas that was even more intimidating and a body of flesh and blood that was even tougher.

Therefore, Zhou Yan was not blown into smithereens like Han Guo.

Although most of his internal organs had been blown away, they were still intact above his chest and below his pelvis.

At first, his frozen and burnt flesh was sealed temporarily. His blood did not gush out. He was still conscious for half a minute, which was enough for him to see his broken body.

Zhou Yan’s eyes were frozen, and his face was dull, as if there was a mask of confusion on his face. No pain could break the mask.

Behind the mask, the young man chanted sincerely, “Fist God help me… Fist God help me… Fist God help me… Fist God help me… Fist God help me… Fist God…”

His voice was getting weaker and weaker. In the end, he could not utter a complete syllable at all. He could only open and close his mouth helplessly like a fish that had been tossed to the shore, blowing out bloody bubbles until the sickle of death reaped his sincere and confused soul.

The miserable deaths of the two pursuers had shattered the shell of most people’s self-deception. Their faces, which were as desperate as those of drowning, were finally filled with horror and fear. They looked at the ‘waste’ of the past with shivering eyes, as if they were gazing at a real devil.

Finally, somebody screamed. The screams seemed to have opened the gate of catharsis. Very soon, almost ten pursuers were all screaming hysterically. Their strength seemed to have leaked out together with their screams, too, so that their legs could not support their body anymore. They were either staggering on the ground or crawling backwards.

“Devil!”

“What kind of strength is this?”

“How can mechanical demons and steam demons boast such terrifying strength?”

“By the Fist God, oh Fist God—”

They were crying and shouting.

At this moment, it was the ascetics’ turn to show off.

Different from ordinary boxers, the ascetics were people who were willing to dedicate their life and soul to the Fist God and abandon everything on the iron fist.

After they made their vows, they would have to undergo the harsh test of the Fist God Hall. Usually, they would have to sit cross-legged and meditate for ten days and ten nights under the impact of the waterfall. They would also have to survive alone in the depths of the forest for a year and a half without any tools, or they would have to be bound by heavy chains from head to toe and cross the boundless desert.

Only those who could pass such a test were qualified to enter the Fist God Hall, practice the most profound fist techniques, and become an assistant priest of the Fist God Hall, or even a high priest of a higher level.

Compared to ordinary boxers, the ascetics loved pain and were not scared of death. Their belief in the Fist God was iron-like, too. They would not be fooled by any tricks of the devil.

Even though such an absurd scene had taken place, the monks could still hypnotize themselves and even strengthen their belief that they were indestructible.

“The devils are awesome! Form a formation and surrender!”

The dozen or so ascetics roared. Their arms suddenly expanded, emitting a metal-like brilliance, before they punched each other with their iron fists. The sound of blades colliding echoed.

The soundwaves turned into an invisible cage. The ascetics surrounded Gus and charged at him with their belief and fighting will.

Gus blinked.

He threw away the ‘Thunder III’ anti-materiel assault rifle and picked up the ‘Black Tide’ heavy Vulcan Machine Gun.