Chapter 00308: Heaven Will Not Let Us Die
# Heaven Will Not Let Us Die
Chapter 308
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
Chapter 308: Heaven Will Not Let Us Die
He looked down, and the thought that popped up was exactly the same as He Chunhua’s:
How did this brat get up here?
But the strange bird’s strength was limited after all, especially flying in the pouring rain with its wings soaked.
Carrying two men was barely manageable when it gritted its teeth; now with a robust, muscular man parachuting down too, how could it hold up?
It flapped frantically, but wobbled and skewed as it fell toward the floodwaters below.
Dong Rui was scared out of his wits.
Those two men pressed together under the bird’s belly — he couldn’t reach them, only helplessly shouting: “Let go! Let go of me!”
Why did he always get badly unlucky whenever he dealt with this father and son pair?
Blasted trouble!
He Lingchuan’s voice came clearly from under the bird’s belly: “Return to land, or we all die together!”
He even used the life-saving technique of substitution — the ghost cicada’s shell—he had stuffed it into his father’s belt just now.
If he fell into the flood again, it would be a dead end.
Dong Rui dared not resist anymore.
He forced the bird’s head to turn toward land, commanding it to fly back.
But truly, the bird couldn’t bear the heavy burden of three men.
It flew closer to land but also lower and lower.
He Lingchuan’s instep felt cold; the water had passed his ankle.
Looking around, all he saw was a vast expanse of water, no high ground, no riverbank anywhere in sight.
No troops remained—only rolling, raging floodwaters.
He Chunhua was shocked and instinctively struggled upward, but He Lingchuan shouted, “Don’t move!”
Too late.
The bird was already exhausted and on its last legs; it couldn’t hold steady against his flailing.
With a loud cry, it helplessly fell into the water.
The wild waves showed no mercy, crashing down and pulling them under.
Even knowing how to swim was useless.
He Chunhua swallowed mouthfuls of water and couldn’t see clearly; in panic, his hand brushed past something.
A drowning man instinctively clutches at his last straw for survival.
It was a low tree growing on the edge of the rocky ground, half its branches swept by the floodwaters, wildly shaking.
Luckily, its roots were still solid, apparently strong enough to support He Chunhua’s weight.
One hand still held onto his son’s trouser leg.
Looking up, Dong Rui was still clinging to the bird, which in turn hooked one claw around He Lingchuan — the three of them tangled beyond recognition.
“Chuan’er, grab… grab me…” He Chunhua tried to say “grab my hand,” but He Lingchuan was pushed so hard by the water that he couldn’t even bend his waist.
The weight of three men, one bird, and the surging current pressed down on He Chunhua.
Though he still had some cultivation left, within two seconds his arms felt like they were about to burst; he almost couldn’t hold on.
Worse, the low tree began to loosen.
He Lingchuan raised his arm and shot a hidden needle at the tree trunk, planning to pull himself back along the rope.
But just as bad luck would have it, a huge wave struck, the fierce force skewed the needle off course.
“…” Could things get any worse?
The problem was that the grappling hook and the needle were combined — he couldn’t shoot a second needle!
From the shore, the Yuan people finally noticed the situation.
Wu Shaoyi rushed forward shouting, “Rope! Bring the rope!”
But it was too late.
Another wave surged in, carrying a wild water buffalo.
The huge beast rammed directly into Dong Rui’s body.
The force blew his eyes wide open.
Those buffaloes didn’t escape the flood’s grasp either.
Even with their usual water swimming skills, now they could only wait for death.
With a tearing sound, He Lingchuan’s trouser leg was shredded.
The flood swept away the two men, the bird, and the buffalo some four to five zhang (about thirteen to sixteen meters).
He Chunhua was left holding only a tattered piece of cloth.
“Chuan’er…” He Chunhua couldn’t believe it.
The Yuan people on shore threw the rope and pulled the tree branches up, finally rescuing He Chunhua.
At this moment, a drifting mass made of endless branches, rocks, and mud poured down from upstream, sweeping over the spot where He Chunhua had been moments before.
The overwhelming power could only be described by an old saying:
Endless falling leaves rustle down.
No one could survive such indiscriminate assault.
No one.
And just a few breaths away, He Chunhua was about to lose his life.
He stood on the shore, soaked through like a drowned rat, water streaming from his body, but his heart was empty.
His son was gone.
Around him sounded urgent whistles and shouts—
This battle was not over yet!
Wu Shaoyi saw his pale, dazed expression and could only offer comfort: “Sir, my condolences. We must retreat!”
Falling into such floodwaters, unless one was a Da Luo Golden Immortal, no one could survive.
What kind of godly spell had Nian Zanli used to engineer this ‘flooding of the Yuan army’?
Yet now even Nian Zanli himself suffered bitterly:
This great flood… could not be stopped!
His strategy had been to flood the Yuan army; that goal was met, and he intended to contain and trap the waters.
But no matter how many incantations, the water inside the bottle showed no sign of stopping — it still surged violently!
And it kept greedily draining his true energy, vital essence, and spirit like an elephant who hadn’t drunk water for three days.
“Damn it, hurry up and contain it! Contain, contain!”
The bottle ignored him.
He recalled Hong Chenglüe’s earlier warning:
Though the Green Spirit Bottle was only a high-quality replica of an ancient Yunshui treasure bottle, its temperament was fierce, second only to the genuine article.
But Nian Zanli had misunderstood “fierce” for being prideful; this thing was strangers from the start, sucking his essence without hesitation.
If not for his years of cultivation and deep reserves, he’d already been drained to nothingness.
Now he finally understood Hong Chenglüe’s words: a mortal could never fully command this bottle to their will.
Desperate, Nian Zanli turned the bottle’s mouth toward the main channel of the Han River.
The river had risen sharply after a low tide period; adding the bottle’s floodwaters amounted to a double flood, pushing the next two flood peaks even higher.
The first wave alone reached four zhang (about thirteen meters) in height!
By now the southern bank of the Han River was already inundated; floodwaters ran unimpeded here, racing southwards and sweeping everything away.
Nian Zanli watched helplessly as the earthen bank collapsed under the four-zhang-high flood peak.
Soldiers who had barely escaped with their lives—both from Xun Prefecture and the Yuan troops—were swept into the water.
Countless black dots floated in the murky water.
Each black dot was a life struggling desperately to survive.
Each was a life slipping away in an instant, drowned beneath surging waves.
The flood continued to erode the clay bank, and the people running on the shore could not outrun the bank’s collapse.
Nian Zanli’s heart was like it was being cut with knives.
Those were his soldiers, his carefully built army and promoted generals washed away in an instant.
But he had to hold tight to the bottle, unwilling to let it go.
He lost count of how many incantations he’d repeated, his mouth numb from chanting when suddenly the bottle stopped overflowing.
No more water came out.
Nian Zanli staggered back two steps, his hands trembling and unable to lower.
He tried to issue commands but instead vomited a mouthful of blood.
His breath was ragged as he muttered: “Hong Chenglüe, you bastard, you’ve trapped me!”
He said this again and again before catching his breath and saying, “Chase, chase the Yuan army! Don’t let Zhao Pan escape!”
Though this battle was won, it was a bitter victory with enormous loss.
Since that was the case, at least the goal of crossing the river had to be fulfilled.
At this moment he suddenly recalled Hong Chenglüe’s promise when they had discussed the plan:
To guarantee the Xun soldiers could cross the river and reach the shore.
Damn it!
Exhausted from controlling the Green Spirit Bottle, with his chest burning and blood rage surging, he fainted.
Meanwhile, the surviving troops of both armies gathered at the shore.
Due to the urgency, Nian Zanli had not waited for all his men to land before releasing the massive flood, and he lost control, drowning even his own army.
Both sides suffered heavy casualties.
Although Zhao Pan avoided disaster by chasing the Xun army, his forces were down to only thirty percent of their original number.
Nearly thirty thousand elite soldiers had been swallowed by the flood.
Both sides now sounded the rally call, but Zhao Pan’s heart sank like a stone to the bottom of the Han River.
He had lost.
The stalemate on the northern battlefield of Xia Prefecture after two or three months ended in defeat.
He had failed the sovereign’s trust!
At this moment, He Chunhua rushed up to him, with the Xia Prefecture army already assembling behind him.
Seeing Zhao Pan’s lost spirit, He Chunhua grabbed his collar and shouted, “Snap out of it! You haven’t lost! This war isn’t over yet!”
Zhao Pan wanted to pull away, but hearing those words, he froze in place: “What?”
He Chunhua’s face was twisted, his whole body soaked in water and covered with mud, a lock of hair stuck to his nose, nothing like the calm scholar he once was.
But the light in his eyes was strange—a mix between wildness and resolve.
“General Zhao, you’re too attached!” He Chunhua said instead. “Think about your mission: to block Nian Zanli in the north! Look, you’re still looking that way!”
Dark skies, heavy rain, chaotic troops and horses—Zhao Pan still couldn’t see the whole situation clearly.
This time, following the direction He Chunhua pointed, he saw nothing but a vast, desolate expanse of churning waves.
Right.
Nian Zanli’s army had just climbed the high ground, but the floods had risen higher still, drowning even that high ground.
“His men are drowned too; their situation isn’t any better than yours!” He Chunhua’s face flushed bright red. “Besides, he’s using such earth-shattering divine magic. Do you think he pays no price? That fool! Such power is not meant for mortals!”
No matter how great the skill, no matter what divine might is summoned, there’s always a price for overreaching.
“General Zhao, Heaven will not let us die!”
Those words struck Zhao Pan like lightning, clearing his head instantly.
That’s right.
His task was to hold the enemy in the north.
As long as he halted the Xun army’s advance, he had achieved his mission.
His army might be severely damaged, but was Nian Zanli any better off?
This foolish, tangled fight was bloody and cruel, but he had not lost yet!
He asked He Chunhua, “Where are your troops?”
“Two thousand remain. They’re all yours!”
“Good!” Zhao Pan wiped his face and ordered the gathering of eight hundred elite soldiers.
He merged them with the Xia Prefecture army to form the backbone, then charged to hunt down Nian Zanli’s remaining forces.
Whoever wakes up first gains the advantage.
Zhao Pan’s banners and drums frightened the soaked, scrambling Xun soldiers into mass retreat.
Meanwhile, the Yuan troops, seeing their own strength, quickly flocked to join him.
Along the pursuit, the number of soldiers picked up only increased.
Nian Zanli’s side faltered.
His troops fled west along the river, their main banner lost, showing their panic.
At this moment, Hong Chenglüe and others were already safe in the forest, looking down on the battlefield from above.
Wu Qing sighed heavily beside him, “Neither side is really winning here.”
The outcome of this battle was truly unexpected.
Hong Chenglüe looked east and at last smiled slightly: “Looks like I can return to Beijia early.”
Clutching the comb tightly in his hand.
————
The volume of “Dunyu” ends here.
From the next chapter, a new arc titled “The Demon’s Nest” begins.
2022.11.17
(The End of This Chapter)