Tycoon War God-Chapter 733: Slaughter of the Holy!

"Vassa Temple is one of the oldest Divine Temples in the Pyramid Nation, holding a supreme position. The Leader of the Pyramid Nation makes a pilgrimage here every year," Qin Luoli explained to Lin Mu.

Lin Mu nodded in understanding.

"People from Huaxia?"

At that moment, the ascetic spotted Lin Mu and Qin Luoli. He was taken aback for a moment, then flew into a rage.

"I thought it was the U.S. Miraculous Squad, but it turns out to be two reckless Huaxia tourists! Since you’ve discovered the secret of Vassa Temple, you can die!"

Upon realizing their identities, the ascetic’s attitude changed drastically. He dropped all pretenses of civility and immediately unleashed a killing blow. Though called an ascetic, he was, in reality, a body-refining expert. Every ascetic was an extremely formidable powerhouse in body refinement.

With a single palm strike, he unleashed the might of one of Huaxia’s Inner Strength Martial Artists.

"Those who insult Huaxia shall be executed!"

Lin Mu casually pointed a finger.

BANG!

The air exploded.

The ascetic was struck as if by lightning. His body shot backward like a cannonball, crashing heavily against the Divine Temple’s wall. The sound of breaking bones was audible even from several meters away.

"The intruders have injured Habi! Attack! Continue the attack!"

Gunshots rang out once again. The first time could have been a misunderstanding, but not the second.

Lin Mu snorted coldly.

The air stirred, and the bullets reversed course, flying back into the barrels they were fired from at an unbelievable speed.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sound of exploding gun chambers erupted. The mercenaries wailed in agony. For a moment, no one else dared to fire.

"Lin Mu of Huaxia. I’m just passing through."

His voice vibrated through the air as he walked toward the exit along the Divine Temple’s sacred path, with Qin Luoli on his arm. The mercenaries in his path scattered in terror, avoiding him like the plague, not daring to confront such a powerful expert.

"People of Huaxia, you’ve crossed the line."

When the two were just two steps from the Divine Temple’s entrance, a voice called out. Not far away, four figures dressed in white robes approached slowly.

"The Saints."

"Greetings to the Saints!"

All the mercenaries fell to their knees, prostrating themselves in a display of extreme piety. The four Saints walked slowly through the crowd.

"People of Huaxia, why have you appeared in Vassa Temple, a sacred place in our nation?"

The lead Saint performed a one-handed salute. His tone was respectful and calm, but his body faintly radiated a powerful aura. It was as if he would strike with the force of a thunderbolt if Lin Mu’s answer was unsatisfactory.

"I entered through a light gate in the laboratory of the U.S. Miraculous Squad’s underground base," Lin Mu stated blandly.

The lead Saint’s expression changed slightly. "You’re lying! The Miraculous Squad is America’s most powerful force. There is no way their laboratory would allow two people from Huaxia inside. If you don’t tell the truth, don’t blame us for being merciless."

The other three Saints’ auras also shifted as their battle intent flared.

"Saints, the Habi Servant was injured by that man. He is still unconscious," a mercenary reported.

Hearing this, the four Saints were instantly enraged. "Outsiders, you dare to injure a Temple Servant of our Divine Temple! You deserve to die!"

Lin Mu waved his sleeve. "The Habi Servant was disrespectful, so I gave him a small punishment. If I had truly meant to act, he would already be dead."

"Arrogant!" the leading Saint roared. "You injured a Temple Servant of our Divine Temple and still speak so shamelessly. Don’t blame us for being merciless! Faisal, kill him!"

A young Saint took a step forward, preparing to strike.

"Wait!" The oldest among the four Saints suddenly spoke.

"Elder Du Le, what do you have to say? Are you thinking of sheltering these attackers?" the leading Saint asked, his displeasure evident.

"Rahman, that is not my intention," Elder Du Le responded. He looked at Lin Mu, his expression shifting from disbelief to shock, and then to joy.

"I sense the aura of the Holy Relics on him," Elder Du Le declared.

"What? Are you serious?" Rahman, the leading Saint, exclaimed in shock.

The Holy Relics of Vassa Temple had been stolen by America seventy years ago during World War II. They had long thought them lost forever, but now, unexpectedly, they could sense their aura once more. Rahman’s gaze toward Lin Mu suddenly turned dangerous.

"Outsider, tell me the whereabouts of the Holy Relics, and I will let you leave," Rahman said, his eyes glinting.

Lin Mu’s expression shifted. "Are these the Holy Relics you’re talking about?"

With a flick of his finger, the white Nine-Tripod Ding Legs appeared in his hand, ethereal yet discernible.

"The Holy Relics!"

"Kill him!"

"Seize the Holy Relics!"

The expressions of the four Saints changed instantly. Surging with killing intent, they all charged toward Lin Mu.

Rahman threw a punch. The faint image of a pyramid formed over his fist, its apex pointing in the direction of his strike. As he punched, space seemed to freeze, and the dust in the air came to an abrupt halt. The ascetics’ practice granted them the power of the Seal. Though not a Cultivator, he had attained a trace of a Cultivator’s Divine Skills.

"Shu!" Elder Du Le called upon the name of a god. A blade of wind formed in his hand, spiraling as it shot toward Lin Mu. This was similar to the divine descent techniques of the East; by invoking a god’s name, Du Le could temporarily borrow their power. Shu was the wind god from the legends of the Ancient Pyramid Nation.

"Send word to the Sanctuary at once! The Holy Relics have appeared! Ask the supreme Rui to come out of seclusion!" Saint Faisal shouted. A mercenary immediately took off, reporting via a communicator.

Inside the Divine Temple, the Habi Servant stumbled out, steadying himself against the wall. His eyes were filled with venom as he glared at Lin Mu.

"A mere Eastern Martial Artist dares to cause injury in the Divine Temple? Today, you will die!"

The four Saints attacked simultaneously, unleashing a storm of fists and palms. The four attacks carried apocalyptic power. The ordinary mercenaries could not withstand the pressure and scrambled to get away.

Lin Mu stood with Qin Luoli at his side, seemingly oblivious, as if he didn’t even see the deadly attacks closing in.

BOOM!

The wind blade struck Lin Mu.

"Die!" Elder Du Le’s eyes glinted with cold killing intent. He could already envision Lin Mu being sliced in half by the wind blade.

Rahman’s punch, filled with the power of the Sun God, struck Lin Mu’s head.

Droplets of death, howling like a Devil, pierced the void and struck Lin Mu’s chest.

A giant palm of fire descended from the sky, smashing down on Lin Mu.

"Scram!"

The moment before all the attacks landed, Lin Mu’s body shook, and an invisible shockwave of energy rippled out.

BANG!

The wind blade shattered.

BOOM!

The pyramid image shattered. With a crack, Rahman’s arm snapped in two.

The droplets of death recoiled. The unnamed Saint who cast them was pierced by his own attack. His body shriveled, and in moments, he dissolved into a puddle of black liquid.

A beam of golden light shot toward the sky, instantly tearing the giant palm of fire apart. The golden light struck, and Faisal screamed in agony as his body trembled violently. His body, hardened by years of ascetic practice, was reduced to ash in the golden light within a single breath.

In just a single breath, of the four Saints who had besieged Lin Mu, two were dead and two were injured.

The mercenaries panicked, overwhelmed by shock and terror. Some dropped their weapons, while others lost control of their bladders. In their eyes, the Saints were the representatives of the gods—omnipotent and invincible. Now, these invincible experts had been effortlessly slain. Their worldview was turned upside down in that moment.

Weren’t the Saints protected by the gods?

Why did they die?!

"Devil!"

"You are the incarnation of an Eastern Devil! You must be a God-Communicating Martial Artist from Huaxia!"

It was as if Elder Du Le had remembered something, and his face twisted in terror. Thirty years ago, he had witnessed the battle of the Divine Sword Saint, Shen Lang. In that battle, Shen Lang had vanquished the Western Deity Race with his overwhelming prowess, an image etched deep into his marrow.

The God-Communicating Martial Artists from Huaxia had since become Du Le’s nightmare.

Today, that nightmare had come again.