Lord Protector novel (Zeke Williams) novel Chapter 1819

Once again, they clashed, and once again, the earth shook, while the same explosion of light took place.

When the old monk opened his eyes again, he plopped down on the ground in despair. Not only did the bodhisattva's light dim out significantly, but its arm was also broken and faded into the skies.

“Impossible! This is impossible!” The loss was unacceptable for the old monk. “Tens of thousands of monks put their faith in this place for over fifty years...”

“And so what? Do you think that really accounts for something?” Zeke suddenly said. Obviously, he had regained consciousness sometime throughout the battle.

The old monk gulped nervously. “What is that dragon? How can it be so powerful?”

Zeke answered, “That is the Fortuna dragon. It is the manifestation of billions of people's faith energy. Do you think mere ten thousand monks could go against the whole nation?”

“The Fortuna dragon? Fortuna manifested itself into a dragon? So the legends are true. You are the chosen one. You managed to tame Fortuna dragon itself. I... I lost this battle,” the old monk said.

Zeke said, “You have one chance to tell me everything. Why did you steal my shadow? Why did my master go to Mount Kush? And why is he in danger?”

The old monk laughed tragically. “So what if you have tamed the dragon? Once the Netherworld takes your shadow into Mount Kush, this nation will fall into their hands. You and your family will still have to die in the end. Do you really think I will bow down to you? Dream on!”

The old monk didn't answer any of his questions, but Zeke managed to piece a part of the puzzle together from what he said.

Daemonium from the Netherworld is heading toward Mount Kush with Warren. But why would the nation fall into their hands once they reach the mountain?

Zeke had no answer for his own question, but he had decided to make a trip to Mount Kush. It was necessary if he wanted to find out about the truth.

He said coldly, “Since you tossed your last chance away, I have no choice but to kill you.”

“Haha!” The old monk laughed maniacally. “I'm going to drag you down even if it's the last thing I do! We shall fight again!”

The old monk commanded the bodhisattva to charge at the Fortuna dragon, and the dragon responded in kind. However, the dragon didn't clash with the bodhisattva head-on. Instead, when they got close, it suddenly turned around and lashed its tail out at its enemy.

And with that, the bodhisattva broke down and crumbled into motes of light before fading away in the air.

The dragon suffered no damage at all, but the same could not be said for the monk. The recoil from the bodhisattva's defeat caused him to bleed from his face all over, and he fell with a thud, never to get up again.

Zeke slowly walked up to the old monk. “Now it's time for your judgment.”

The monk smiled bitterly. “You have no right to judge me. Only I do. I shall not let the gods dictate my fate. Even if I were to die, it shall be by my own hands!”

He pushed himself one last time and cut off all his meridians, taking his own life on the spot.

Zeke shook his head. Well, that's a waste. What a pity. I was so close to the truth, but he wouldn't tell me.

The old monk was a powerful warrior. Nobody could force him to do anything he didn't want to, not even a god. After all, the will of a powerful warrior was unbreakable.

Even though the monk and Stanley were dead, that didn't mean they were absolved of their crimes. They might not be alive, but their corpses could still receive punishment.

Zeke held the old monk's body in one hand and Stanley's in another. He wanted to go back and destroy the bodies, since it'd be trouble if those from Netherworld got their hands on them and cast a revival spell.

However, the moment Zeke came out, he realized he was surrounded by a hundred people. All of them were monks armed with staves, and they were glaring at Zeke.

Zeke sneered, “You think a bunch of nobodies like you can stop me? In your dreams. But I suppose it's a good day to cut off the root of the problems, namely you b*stards.”

“Amitabha,” someone among the ranks chanted, and the crowd made way for an old monk. The monk's eyebrows and beard were white, and his hands were put together in prayer.

He came up to Zeke and greeted, “It has been a while, Great Marshal.”

Zeke knew who the monk was the moment he saw him. It was none other than the head of the Shaolin Temple—Stephen Banchen.