Mao Bo gasped for breath, feeling the sting of the cold in his lungs. He glanced to the side and saw little Lim'er hunched over his shoulder, still comatose. Keeping at the running pace, he glanced back and saw that he had to slow down once more--everyone except Elder Huan was falling behind.
It made sense.
The oldest excluding the two of them was just seventeen, and the youngest was barely nine. They were in no way, shape, or form prepared to be hunted down by the pigs of the Holy Lands. Even if this wasn't the first time he had been pursued, it was different this time around. The force at their backs was... massive.
There were at least two hundred Disciples, ranging anywhere from the Foundation Establishment all the way to the Void Transformation Realm. They were not so much an issue, merely a nuisance. The actual problem were the Elders at their rear--sixteen, Mao Bo counted them as they besieged the little covenant and started their slaughter.
Sixteen Elders.
A number so insane that he was almost certain he'd seen wrong. The only other time he'd seen sixteen Elders gather was during the war itself, when they sieged the Demonic Gates.
A more accursed thing was that it wasn't from one sect, but rather combinations from at least seven. Somehow, something had caused those old, stubborn devils to set aside their hatreds dating back centuries, if not thousands of years, and band together to pursue a small enclave of the Cult.
And it truly was a very small segment--before they were found, there were no more than forty people living there. Now, though, he was dragging thirteen remaining survives and guiding them toward the Obsidian Mountain Range. Though the teleportation array had bought them some time, it wasn't enough; those bastards had likely immediately boarded their two warships and immediately started pursuing them.
"We need to rest," Elder Huan came up to him and said; she was missing an entire left arm, had half of her jaw smashed, and had a cracked dantian, but it all somehow hardly diminished her fierceness. "The kids can't go on."
"... if we rest, we'll be caught."
"And if we don't, we'll be caught just the same," she said.
"It's only a few hundred miles longer," he said, though was quite certain it was a lie. After all, they couldn't even see the mountains just yet on the horizon, just a dull, endless stretch of dying grass.
"Then I'll stay behind," she said.
"Huh?"
"I'll break away from your group and create tracks leading southward," she said. "Hopefully, that pulls some of them away. If it doesn't, I'll start a fight and buy you a few more hours."
"... you'll die," Mao Bo said, his voice rife with unwillingness.
"My days as a cultivator are over, old Bo," she said, cracking a rare smile. "Even if we manage to escape and root ourselves elsewhere again, I'll perish in less than a decade. This way, at least, I can leave one last mark upon this accursed world. And, if by some miracle I manage to take down one of their old shits... well, I just know that Old Master will welcome me with open arms once I die."
"..." he stayed silent.
There was no point in arguing; the resoluteness in her gaze was not going to be broken by his persuasions--especially ones lacking belief.
Stopping by a boulder, he saw the kids come up and collapse one by one; the strongest among them was merely at the mid stages of the Foundation Establishment Realm. After all, those that they managed to save weren't exactly the most talented members of the Cult. External or honorary disciples, distant relatives, even servants...
Mao Bo himself was merely an External Elder, serving as an envoy between the Cult and its branches. He was only allowed past the Demonic Gates twice--during his inauguration as an Elder, and when they were pushed back during the war.
Chances were that, even with her sacrifice, they would not escape. And even if they did escape... what was left after? They were all branded by the Cult's Mark and were practicing Demonic Qi--there was no place in the world that they could hide in for long, or a place that would accept them and shield them.
Though he never regretted submitting himself to the Cult, he felt bad for the children here, most of whom were simply born into it and had no choice in the matter. Now, they were suffering the sins of their ancestors, pursued and killed simply because they were born to the wrong parents.
"... good luck," he said.
"Hm." she merely nodded, disappearing into the shadows.
Mao Bo set down the little girl gently, prying her lips open and pouring the last few remaining drops of the Liquid Shadow, the Cult's famous healing salve. It would not cure her, though, simply buy an extra two or three days of life. If she wasn't properly looked at by an alchemist, she would die without ever waking up.
The kids settled down and started meditating. Even now, in these circumstances, none of them were panicking. In a way, it was admirable--but also a testament to the Cult's failures. Had more of the members decided to flee and hide, they would have stood a chance of eventually resurrecting.
Instead, they all followed the Demonic King and charged directly at the army of the Holy Lands. It was a spectacle like no other, even if he did catch just the fading glimpse of it as he ushered the children through the tunnels.
He looked up at the dull, gray sky and closed his eyes, inhaling a lungful. Even if he should die, it would not be a death wasted, he swore. He'd get at least some of these children to escape, no matter what.
**
"Why aren't we going any faster?!" Bai Jiahao complained, settled against the ship's bow and looking over the extensive terrain below.
"Because there is no reason to waste Spirit Stones on chasing the already trapped vermin," Yan Chun replied. "We will catch them soon enough."
"... tsk," Yan Chun looked over at the young boy and sighed.
There had been so many things that had happened in the past few months, and chasing down some remnants of the fallen cult barely even mattered. The only reason they were here was simply to be away from their Sects; with so many Direct Disciples dying in the Secret Realm, talented kids were a great rarity now. Jiahao himself was supposed to attend the gathering, but had a mishap while trying to forcibly break through into the next realm which held him back.
The stroke of awful fortune was reversed, and he had overnight become one of the most talented kids remaining in the entire world.
As such, the Sect Master assigned him to this mission--though their thinking was hardly unique. As it was just some remnant, pathetic force, it seemed like all the Holy Lands were of the same mind, sending their most talented disciples along with a few Elders.
It was a force strong enough to start a world conquest, yet they were merely going after some rats.
Alas, he still could not relax; should anything happen to these two warships, the entire future of the Holy Lands would effectively be crippled. And he, even in death, would not be able to avoid the consequences.