paranoianovel Chapter 950 The Manifestation of Prajna
Chapter 950 The Manifestation of Prajna
Chapter 950 The Manifestation of Prajna
Master Gilani is seventy-five years old this year. If you put him at this age and with his strength in the ranks of orthodox wizards, he is still in his prime. He would be embarrassed to go out and meet people if he didn't have a few witch bed partners.
But Gilani looked as if he had one foot in the grave, his face exposed beneath his black robe, and the skin on his hands as withered as old tree bark.
Zoroastrian spellcasters differ from European wizards in that the transmission of their supernatural powers is mostly unsystematic, stemming from inheritances left by their predecessors. While these powers may be considerable, each use comes at a heavy price.
The Sassanids weren't entirely without orthodox spellcasters, but no one wanted to get involved in a war of that caliber.
The longer a species lives, the more it cherishes its life.
It's clearly impossible for them to oppose Lothar, a rising superhuman who climbed to power by stepping on the legendary master Schemer, and who has risen like a comet in recent years, all for worldly power and wealth.
I received an "order," or rather a request, from Alibaba.
Gilani did not refuse. He stepped down from the carriage with some difficulty, leaning on his staff, which was topped with an orange-red gem that resembled a "sacred fire".
The young monks who were serving him tried to help him up, but he gently pushed them away.
He said to the other old man sitting opposite him, "The Frankish devil is powerful and resourceful. I can't wait any longer. But they definitely have more tricks up their sleeves. I'm leaving everything here to you."
The old man sighed softly, "Be careful."
Gilani grinned and said, "We've lived this long enough to die. At worst, we'll just end up like Gamshid, with these old bones. I'm just worried that even if we all die here, we won't be able to stop these ferocious enemies."
The "Gamshid" he referred to was the religious leader of Isfahan, who had died at the hands of the Tatars while defending Isfahan.
The two looked at each other and smiled bitterly.
Perhaps the sacred flame that has burned in Ctesiphon for a thousand years without ever going out is truly nearing its end.
The Sassanid army had reserves.
A competent commander would never commit all his resources too early in a battle.
However, the Sasanian army's truly elite reserves were all concentrated on the flanks, intended to be the elite forces that could deliver the decisive blow at the most crucial moment of the battle.
Positioned at the rear was merely a ragtag group of Bedouin tribal riders, Turkmen cavalry, and Turkic mercenaries.
The former two were conscripts provided by tribes under Sassanid rule, while the Turkic mercenaries were people who had migrated eastward from the Seljuk Turks who had originally ruled Armenia after the remnants of the Ayyubid tribes invaded the region.
These lightly armed cavalrymen were poorly equipped, mostly wearing leather armor, felt armor, or simple chainmail, or sometimes they had no armor at all, just a felt robe to protect themselves from the wind.
Their only advantage is that they are quite good at archery, but expecting them to be able to stop those monster cavalry is simply a pipe dream.
They charged forward like a tidal wave, the dark, massive army of hunters galloping for a while before stopping. Then, without hesitation, they abandoned their troops and fled to the flanks, following their respective tribal chiefs.
They didn't even bother to fire a volley of arrows at the Wild Hunt army!
"Coward, bastard!"
Ali, standing upstairs, angrily slammed his fist on the iron railing in front of him. What he needed most right now was time. If these men could hold off the enemy for a moment, he would have a chance to move the reserves on both flanks to the rear.
It's too late now.
"General, look, that looks like Master Gilani!"
The attendant suddenly exclaimed, "By the Holy Flame, he actually went towards those monsters alone!"
In the vast wilderness, a frail old man, leaning on a cane, approached the seemingly endless army of hunters. A layer of frost clung to his eyebrows in the cold wind.
The contrast between the two is simply too stark.
That gaunt old man looked as if he could slap a wild hunting dog to death with a single blow.
Gilani squatted down with some difficulty, placing one hand on the ground.
Fiery red lines spread rapidly from his palm outwards. Just as the terrifying Wild Hunt army, carrying a chilling aura, was about to engulf Gilani, boundless flames roared up from beneath his feet, forming a wall of fire stretching for several kilometers.
Every Wild Hunt member that ventured into it was instantly reduced to ashes.
"It's the sacred flame! The sacred flame has manifested its power!"
Upstairs, Ali's face showed the joy of surviving a disaster: "No wonder Master Gilani was so confident in dealing with the Frankish dragon. With such power, burning the Frankish dragon to death is no problem at all!"
He knew that Master Gilani was an extraordinary superhuman, but he could never have imagined that the withered old man possessed such terrifying power. He could feel the scorching heat even from this distance.
"Win, win!"
"As expected of Master Gilani!"
Compared to the excitement of others, Gilani's face remained completely calm, because the Wild Hunt's army was almost endless, and each one that rushed into the flames would lower the temperature of the fire by a fraction.
This kind of war of attrition is clearly not something that Gilani's old and frail body can withstand.
Two flames ignited in his cloudy eyes, as if he could see the culprit behind the cold mist from thousands of meters away.
"Got you!"
"Let my crippled body ignite the sacred flame!"
He murmured something, and a parchment scroll appeared out of thin air in his hand, on which a vast star map was painted with ochre pigment and gold powder.
This is a legacy left by the Sassanid scholar Ferdowsi, a star map enshrined at the Gondishapur Observatory, and also an incredibly powerful artifact.
Gilani bit his index finger and touched a bright spot on the star map. The next moment, his dim life force seemed to burst out with all its energy in the shortest instant, turning the entire star map gold.
At the same time, a red meteor streaked across the sky and fell into the distance.
This was an incredibly powerful attack unleashed by Gilani, a spellcaster nearing the legendary level, at the cost of his life, using the artifact Ferdowsi Star Chart. It had already involved the power of the rules, and he believed that even a legendary powerhouse would perish under such an attack.
"Old buddy, everything from now on is in your hands."
Gilani's eyes reflected the stunning shooting star, losing their last glimmer of light.
This is the foundation of a thousand-year-old empire. Perhaps because Bahram's prestige was insufficient to command him at will, there was a group of extraordinary figures who shared the fate of this country and were willing to give their lives for it.
This is something that Saladin's Ayyubid dynasty, which had only been established for a few years, could never compare to.
distance.
Prajna, dressed in a white robe, had a deep black stain on her fingertips. One Latin letter after another leaped from her fingertips, carrying a chilling aura, and transformed into a mad hunter and his hounds wielding weapons in the open space.
In her second Elite 2 stage, the Book Fairy Prajna has regained her former identity as a "banished immortal," possessing almost inexhaustible power. If she were to get serious, she could easily destroy a city by herself.
Even a banished immortal is still an immortal, and their status is even higher than that of a legend.
Prajna, who was summoning the Wild Hunt army, suddenly looked up at the meteor that Gilani had summoned from the star map at the cost of his life. It arrived too fast, and an invisible force froze and sealed off the surrounding space, making it impossible for anyone to make an effective response.
But Prajna looked at the meteorite so close to her, her cold expression remained unmoved. Only her calm black eyes ignited with a cold flame. The next moment, her white robes were completely shed and dyed black, and the one-horned demon returned to the world.
A huge, demon-faced shield floated in her hand.
boom--
A wall of sighs, reminiscent of the one in Greek mythology that separates the Pure Land from the Underworld, stood before the two of them.
A terrifying meteor, capable of engulfing all living beings and burning away Gilani's life force, a meteor that even legends could not withstand, carried raging flames and scorched the dark wall until it glowed red, yet it still could not cross the insurmountable barrier.
"Enough!"
"That's awesome!"
The ghost-face reliefs that roam the walls let out joyful roars.
When Prajna enters the second stage of her cultivation, she awakens the skill "Ghost Gate". The ghost mask relief is now connected to the hell of this world, able to draw upon the power of the real gates of hell. Its sturdiness is unprecedented, making it an insurmountable wall.
This is why Lothar is confident in letting her act alone. As a Summoner, a fragile class, she can switch back to her original role in an instant, becoming a six-star Heavy Armored Guard with the strongest defensive capabilities!
boom--
The meteor exploded, and terrifying flames bombarded Prajna's demon-faced shield.
"It's so hot! It's burning hot!"
"Take me back! I quit!"
The demon-faced relief let out a terrified roar, but Prajna remained unmoved. Pain was certain; being sealed as the spirit of this shield was itself a punishment for the demon-faced relief.
"Shut up, come with me to open the gates of hell and guide this power into the underworld!"
The enemy's methods were very clever; they had locked down the space where Prajna was located. Once all the energy exploded in this space, there would be no way for it to escape. No matter how strong her defense was, she would likely suffer severe damage.
for a long time.
The flames gradually subsided.
The pitch-black demon-faced shield returned to Prajna's hands. There wasn't even the slightest crack or scratch on it, yet the demon-faced relief was still screaming in agony, as if it were about to shatter.
She ignored the eerie cries of the ghost-faced relief, and with a wave of her hand, it dissipated, transforming back into the otherworldly form of the fairy in the book.
Having been attacked, it's clearly unacceptable not to retaliate.
She pondered for a moment
The Sassanids seem to have been waiting for the dragon.
Let's give them the dragon then.
This time, Prajna was clearly serious. Instead of using her fingertips to apply ink, she took a brush and sketched the figure of a colossal creature, an illustration from the Song of Winter and Summer.
A black dragon named Drogon!