69: Chapter 69: The Hero

Inside the Demon King's Castle.

You, who were resting with your eyes closed, suddenly opened your eyes.

"Interesting." The corners of your mouth slowly curled into an arc, a smile you yourself hadn't even noticed appearing on your face. "After all these years, someone has finally pulled out the Hero's Sword."

The Hero's Sword in Hero Village was something you had personally plunged into the ground there.

Isn't that how it's always written in novels? The hero pulls out the Hero's Sword and then goes to slay the Devil King.

You are the so-called Devil King now, so it's no surprise that there would be a real hero.

That's why you deliberately placed your own sword there to serve as the Hero's Sword.

To pull out pure white requires extremely high talent, or for the opponent's cultivation to be higher than yours.

On this planet, naturally, no one's cultivation could be higher than yours, a Martial God, which means the opponent must possess freakishly high talent.

"A hero, huh?" you muttered to yourself.

Regardless, he pulled out pure white.

Using your own sword to slay you?

This will be a journey destined for failure.

One year later.

A young man arrived outside the Demon King's Castle. He held a longsword, wore armor, and his gaze was resolute.

The young man looked around a few times, confirming there were no skeleton soldiers nearby.

He pushed open the gates of the Demon King's Castle and walked into the grand hall.

The moment he stepped into the grand hall, all the torches were instantly lit.

The young man didn't panic but instead stared at the throne at the end of the hall.

A person sat on the throne. Their entire face was shriveled—literally shriveled, as if cloth were pasted onto bone.

"Are you the Devil King?" the young man asked, looking at you.

You strolled down from the throne and looked at him.

You couldn't guess his age; he looked very young, but the magic power within him had already reached the Peak of a Martial Saint.

"I am the Devil King," you said, looking at him.

Your voice was hoarse; for a moment, you were stunned yourself, but you quickly adjusted.

"Then are you the hero?" you asked in return with a smile.

The young man revealed a confident smile. The armor on his body shone brilliantly, reflecting silver light.

"I am the hero appointed by Your Majesty." He revealed an even brighter smile and raised his longsword toward you. "Furthermore, I am a hero recognized by the heavens!"

In an instant, the longsword danced, and a flash of sword light flickered.

The young man still maintained his smile, his face filled with unparalleled confidence.

But his head had already been severed from his neck.

"You are a hero recognized by the Devil King!" you said softly, looking at the headless body that was still standing.

Blood gushed out from the neck like a fountain, landing on pure white.

You slowly bent down to pick up pure white and wiped away the bloodstains on it.

The longsword turned into a ray of white light in your hand and disappeared.

Hero Village.

Although the Hero's Sword had been pulled out, the village chief would still go to the entrance of the village to sit and light a cigarette.

He would stare at the road the hero had taken, hoping to see the hero return, holding the longsword and the head of the Devil King.

"Forget it." The village chief shook his head.

He had seen too much in his life. He had witnessed the first generation of heroes slay the Devil King, witnessed the commoners overthrow the nobility, and witnessed kings being driven from their thrones.

Now, to want to witness the victory of the second generation of heroes—even he felt that was too extravagant.

The village chief suddenly wiped his eyes, confirming he hadn't seen wrong.

The hero hadn't returned, but the Hero's Sword had appeared back in its original place.

The village chief lit another cigarette and slowly sat at the village entrance, smoking.

Ten years passed in a flash.

You were already seventy years old.

How long had you been in this world? You didn't remember, but it had been a very, very long time.

Fentier died this year at the age of fifty-one.

The entire continent was plunged into sorrow.

His ideology of "Long Live the People" had spread across the entire continent.

Kings feared him, nobles hated him, and the commoners loved him.

When he was alive, those nobles called him a "traitor," "thug," and "agitator."

After he died, those nobles instead called him "Comrade Fentier."

This day would not only be remembered by the Falun Republic but by the entire continent.

A servant of the people, Comrade Fentier, who fought his whole life for the cause of liberation—though he had passed away, his ideology would remain forever.

You felt nothing; you no longer had a heart. You touched the spot where your heart should be; only bone remained there.

This was the side effect of using the summoning Spell; you didn't even dare to look at your own appearance now.

However, the Martial God Golden Core was still there. At your sternum, if you looked down, you could see that golden Golden Core through your bones.

Another ten years passed.

You were already eighty years old.

You had finally completed one percent.

It looked somewhat ridiculous, but at least it was a glimmer of hope.

Another twenty years passed, and you were one hundred years old.

You often asked yourself how old your daughter was now, but you had forgotten; you could no longer remember.

You were even beginning to forget your own name.

It was as if only a single obsession remained: to complete this teleportation array.

Probably when you were ninety-five, another young man walked into the grand hall, carrying the Hero's Sword.

He brought an entire hero party, including a magic caster and a healer.

This young man was so high-spirited, but you simply controlled pure white, and his entire faith collapsed; the light in his eyes vanished.

In the end, pure white pierced his heart.

Another one hundred years passed.

"Wait, is the time jump this big this time?" Lin Heng looked at the text on the simulator and rubbed his eyes, confirming he hadn't misread it.

It was one hundred years.

"Prisoner 5 can really live!" Lin Heng exclaimed.

However, he suddenly became excited. Didn't this mean that after Prisoner 5 died, he would receive hundreds or thousands of talent points?

"Then wouldn't Prisoner 6 just take off!" Lin Heng exclaimed.

The entire teleportation array was finally one-tenth complete.

You were almost forgetting why you wanted to complete this teleportation array.

Go home, go home.

You looked at the array with red edges and muttered to yourself: "I want to go home."

Only your voice echoed continuously inside the Demon King's grand hall.

"Go home, go home..."

In this one hundred years, only one hero came to your grand hall. He was alone; you didn't say a word to him, and pure white slashed his throat.

During these one hundred years.

The Empire on the Southern Continent collapsed. The people of the Empire held portraits of Fentier and stormed the imperial palace.

They executed the emperor and erected Fentier's portrait above the imperial palace.

Below it was written:

Long live the people!

Another one hundred years passed.

During these one hundred years, two heroes came. Both held pure white and both thought the previous heroes were trash.

Then, pure white swung, a flash of sword light flickered, and heads rolled!

You no longer knew how much time had passed.

The teleportation array was finally half complete.

Looking at that blood-red array, those green pupils held no emotion.

Hero Village.

The village chief sat at the village entrance, taking swigs from a bottle of wheat ale.

As the chief of Hero Village, his duty was to sit at the village entrance and watch the Hero's Sword.

In his entire life, he had only seen one young man pull out the Hero's Sword.

The group that came to pull the sword this time consisted of two men and one woman. The young man walking in front should be the so-called hero; his face was quite handsome, and his smile was like the spring breeze in March.

The village chief took a big gulp of beer and looked at the young man pulling the sword this time: "Quite a handsome face. Who knows how many young girls in our village this face would ruin!"

The young man revealed a smile: "Village Chief, you're joking. Can I just pull the sword now?"

"Suit yourself." The village chief wiped his mouth, set the beer bottle by his feet, and stared at the young man.

He suddenly felt that this young man was a bit different. He felt that he was the hero and would definitely be able to pull out the sword.

"Vierol, can you do it or not!" the girl in the group squatted to the side, resting her chin on her hand, looking at Vierol who hadn't made a move yet.

Vierol smiled: "I'm a bit worried, worried that I won't be able to pull it out."

"Alright, I'm ready to pull it."

He walked to the Hero's Sword, gripped the hilt with both hands, took a deep breath, and exerted force suddenly.

The village chief watched the young man intently.

The young man used all his strength, his face turning red, but the Hero's Sword didn't budge at all!

Misjudged!

"Sigh." The village chief sighed, picked up the beer bottle, and took another gulp: "Forget it, forget it, let's go!"

The village chief waved his hand as if shooing away flies.

Vierol shrugged his hands and said to the two people in his team: "Didn't pull it out."

"Let's go." He sighed, but soon revealed a smile again.

The smile was very light, as if nothing had happened.

"Wait a moment, you're going the wrong way. That's the direction to the Demon King's Castle. You should go this way!" the village chief called out to them.

People in the past who didn't pull out the sword all went that way. Crestfallen, without looking back, they went south. Anyway, they weren't the hero, so were they supposed to go and slay the Devil King?

Only the young man who pulled out the sword went north. He hadn't returned to this day.

"No mistake, we are going to the Demon King's Castle," Vierol said.

"But you didn't pull out the Hero's Sword!" the village chief said.

"So what?" Vierol said.

"Uncle, if we return successfully, I will stick my sword here." He raised his iron sword into the sunlight.

"If someone doesn't pull out that sword in the future, let them use my sword."

In the village chief's eyes, the young man's smile facing the sunlight was so brilliant, but the village chief knew that without the Hero's Sword, going to slay the Devil King was just going to his death!

"But you aren't even a hero!" the village chief shouted, his voice cracking.

Vierol was still smiling. His voice was very light, like the spring breeze in March, and also very gentle.

"Who says only those who pull out the Hero's Sword are heroes?"

"I am a hero, so my sword is the Hero's Sword!"

"Uncle, that's the right way!"