The Anarchic Consort - Chapter 2: Rebirth

When Roland crossed Middle-earth with the Lord of the Rings system, Gandalf was organizing an expedition, the king under the mountain still did not return to his throne, the Hobbit’s adventure had not yet begun, and the world was still shrouded in shadows…

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The first time they met they had battled fiercely, just for a mere bunch of herbs. She needed it to save people, and he wanted to use it to save his own life.

“Let go of it, or you will die.” The man’s violet eyes were cold and sinister as he said in a low voice.

She held on tightly to the base of the herb and pulled its roots right out of the ground, before she turned her eyes back with a crafty smile. “It’s mine now. Snatch it from me if you can.”

When they met several years later they were no longer on opposing sides in hostility. In order to repay the debt for having stolen the herb back then, she went on to miraculously cure his body’s condition, relieving him of the inhumane torment that wrecked at his body day and night. He was amazed by the godly skills in Medicine she possessed and his heart went on to fall irrecoverably head over heels in love.

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“How do you treat ants? Gods will treat you the same!” – Yuan Chenfei.

On this day, Gods finally appeared.
Not for destruction, not for slavery, but just for playing a game…

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The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

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