Oh no! My grandmother made me shoulder the responsibility for eight households!

Chapter 557 For the Sake of All Living Beings

The outer passage began to slowly close, as if the will of heaven and earth were repairing it.

Although this world is decaying and broken, it still exists.

As long as the world is not destroyed, the will of heaven and earth will turn left for one day.

At the edge of the crack, the dark red light gradually faded.

The blue sky reappeared, like a piece of glass that had been wiped clean.

All those extraterrestrial creatures were wiped out; not one escaped, and not one returned alive.

Saint-level beings, half-saint-level beings, true lord-level beings, celestial immortal-level beings, and human immortal-level beings all perished on this land.

The corpses piled up within a radius of 10,000 meters of the Tower of Babel reached a height of 1,000 meters.

The mysterious emperor retreated, and the gray-robed man's aura dissipated from the void.

Although Lin Chen knew he hadn't gone far, he was still there.

But at least for now, this crisis is over.

The square remained quiet for a long time, a quiet that comes from the aftermath of a disaster.

Some people were in a daze, some were trembling, some were looking down at their hands, and some were looking up at the sky that was turning blue.

Then, a deafening cheer erupted.

Someone knelt down, supporting himself with his hands on the ground, his forehead hitting the bluestone slab with a loud "thump".

He muttered incoherently, saying things like "May our ancestors bless us" and "Long live Young Master Lin," not knowing what he was saying at all.

Someone cried, tears streaming down their face along with the blood.

But he didn't care, he just grinned and cried like a child.

Some people were jumping and skipping around, hugging strangers, men and women alike, laughing and crying together.

Someone raised a weapon and roared to the sky, his voice hoarse like a wild beast, his throat cracked from shouting.

Someone collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, their chest heaving violently, their eyes fixed on the sky, and a slow, wide smile spread across their face.

It's good to be alive!

Zhang Yiyuan planted his Tianyuan Sword on the ground, his hands resting on the hilt.

His white robe turned red, and it was impossible to tell whether it was the enemy's blood or his own.

His white hair fluttered in the wind as he looked at the closed crack and breathed a sigh of relief.

He had seen his share of storms and life-and-death situations, but he had never witnessed anything like this.

Hundreds of thousands of cultivators perished in three days and three nights, with more than half killed or wounded, and blood flowing like a river.

Long Zaitian stood next to Zhang Yiyuan, his smiling face bearing a fresh scar. He reached out and touched the scar, then smiled.

"Brother Zhang, do you think that person from earlier will come back?"

Zhang Yiyuan glanced at him: "I don't know."

Long Zaitian chuckled: "Who cares? At worst, I'll just die."

Jian Shisan stood in the corner, holding the Zhuxian Sword in his left hand. The bleeding from the severed wound on his right arm had stopped, but he couldn't exert any force for the time being.

He looked down at his right hand and remained silent for a long time.

Then he looked up at the closed crack and his lips twitched slightly.

It was worth losing that arm!

Jiang Xuan's right hand hung down at his side, with only one of his five fingers still movable.

The remaining few were bent at an odd angle, like broken branches.

An elder approached and asked in a low voice, "Lord of the Domain, your hand—"

"You won't die," Jiang Xuan interrupted him. "Mind your own business."

The elder opened his mouth, then closed it again, bowed his head, and withdrew.

Jiang Xuan watched his retreating figure and suddenly called out, "Wait!"

The elder turned around, and Jiang Xuan said, "It's good that you're alive."

The elder paused for a moment, then nodded vigorously.

Qingyunzi's Taoist robe was torn into strips, which rustled in the wind, revealing his charred skin underneath.

Half of his white beard was burned off, and the remaining half was charred and curled, like withered grass in autumn.

He looked down at himself, shook his head with a wry smile.

A sage-like figure? Now he looks like a beggar.

But he didn't care; as long as he was alive, that was enough.

Abbot Xuanci stood on the city wall, his golden kasaya reduced to a few scraps of cloth, resembling a tattered fishing net.

The Buddhist prayer beads around his neck had been completely used up during the great battle; not a single one remained.

He put his hands together, chanted a Buddhist prayer, and his voice was hoarse.

Master Xukong, standing behind him, spoke up: "Abbot, the prayer beads are gone."

Abbot Xuanci didn't turn around: "Buddha resides in the heart."

Master Xukong paused for a moment, then put his hands together and chanted a Buddhist prayer.

After this battle, his Buddhist practice has improved considerably, and I believe the abbot has as well.

Zhao Zilong's silver armor was covered in blood, it was impossible to tell whether it was his own or the enemy's.

His face was covered in blood, with only his eyes showing.

The gentian silver spear stood planted on the ground, its tip still dripping blood.

He looked up at Lin Chen at the top of the tower, knelt on one knee, and clasped his hands in a fist salute.

The silver armor made a "crackling" sound, the sound of blood congealing after it dried.

"My lord, the Guardians of the Galaxy have fulfilled their mission."

Lin Chen paused for a moment, then asked, "What about the casualties?"

Zhao Zilong paused for a moment.

"Thirty-seven people died in battle, and more than one hundred and twenty were seriously wounded. All of them were damaged to the core and could no longer make any progress. The rest burned away a hundred years of their lifespan."

Lin Chen remained silent for a moment. The Guardians of the Galaxy were the backbone of the continent, and after this battle, it was unknown how long it would take for them to recover.

"A grand funeral and a generous reward."

Zhao Zilong clasped his hands in a fist salute: "Yes!"

Then he stood up, turned around and walked back to the group. After taking two steps, he suddenly stopped without looking back.

"My lord, they were all smiling when they left."

Lin Chen didn't speak, but sighed deeply in his heart.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The leaders of the various factions all landed in front of their disciples.

Jiang Xuan stood at the front of the Kunlun Domain's team.

He glanced at the disciples in front of him. There were over a thousand when they arrived, but now more than half were gone.

The rest were all injured; some had broken arms, some had gone blind, some had a dent in their chest, and some had a piece of skin torn off their face.

But no one bowed their head, no one cried, and no one complained.

They stood there, looking at their domain lord with trust, reliance, and pride in their eyes.

Jiang Xuan didn't speak, he just nodded.

At times like these, silence speaks louder than words.

Long Zaitian stood at the front of the Penglai Immortal Island group, looking at the disciples who were covered in injuries.

Then he turned around, his back to them, and looked at the distant horizon, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Qingyunzi stood at the front of the Qingyun Sect's procession, paused for a moment, and then said:

"You are all great."

His voice wasn't loud, but everyone could hear it clearly.

Some people laughed, some cried, some clenched their fists, and some hugged the people next to them.

Sword Gentleman stood at the front of the Heavenly Sword Pavilion's ranks, looking at the disciples covered in blood.

There were thousands of people when he went, but now there are less than half. He only said one sentence.

"The swords of the Heavenly Sword Pavilion are not broken."

The sound wasn't loud, but everyone could hear it clearly.

Someone drew a sword, raised it above their head, and the sword gleamed in the sunlight.

People followed suit and drew their swords—one, two, three, hundreds of swords were drawn at the same time, the sword light like a rainbow.

The armies of the four great dynasties of Central China, the Flame Empire of the Northern Desert, the Monster Empire of the Southern Wilderness, and the Golden Sand Empire of Western China have suffered losses exceeding 70%...

Lin Chen stood atop the Tower of Babel, his gaze sweeping over everyone.

Those covered in blood, those exhausted, those who escaped death.

Their faces were covered in blood, tears, sweat, and ash.

Their eyes held weariness, sadness, fear, and relief.

But their backs were straight, their heads were held high, and their chests were puffed out.

Lin Chen remained silent for a long time before finally speaking:

"Thank you all for your hard work."

Everyone responded in unison: "For the sake of all living beings!"

The sound was deafening, echoing through the heavens.

Some people are shouting, some are yelling, some are crying, and some are laughing.

The sounds blended together, like an article that no one could write.

Lin Chen stood atop the tower, looking at them, and a slow smile crept onto his lips.

Although many people died in this battle, the number of survivors is immeasurable!