/ Unbroken Spine: A Cultivation Novel / CHAPTER 09: THE HARVESTING MACHINE AND THE HUMAN STRIKE

CHAPTER 09: THE HARVESTING MACHINE AND THE HUMAN STRIKE

1788784148

The violent ambush of the Heaven-Pole Guards was merely the bitter, bloody appetizer to the real slaughter awaiting them in the dark depth of the canyon.

Just as Gu Yao crushed the third hound beneath his shattering warhammer, a massive, horrific rhythm accompanied by the deafening sound of grinding iron gears echoed from the pitch-black depths of the narrow, rain-slicked gorge.

It was a terrifying sound that made the flesh crawl and the blood run cold—a mechanical void completely devoid of human breath, carrying only the cruel, calculated clanking of relentless, automated precision. Through the heavy curtain of pouring rain, four towering behemoths, each standing roughly three meters in height, slowly strode forth from the shadows of the cliffs. Their colossal frames were cast entirely from cold black iron, and embedded directly in the center of their massive chests was a pulsing "Rhyme Core" that glowed with an eerie, sickening green light.

These were the Cloud-Soothed Sect’s true engines of destruction and war: Harvesting Golems.

These horrific, mindless machines were manufactured for a single, sinister purpose: to harvest mortal spinal marrow with maximum efficiency upon spirit-exhausted, desolate battlefields across the mortal realms. Their mechanical arms were not hands, but rather pairs of massive, rapidly rotating iron drills covered in cruel, bone-catching barbs designed to strip life directly from human flesh.

"Back! Everyone, get behind the mountain wall right now!" Gu Yao roared, his voice ragged, hoarse, and raw as he violently shoved Shen Yi into the relative shelter of the jagged rocks.

His heart sank to the absolute bottom of an icy abyss. Against living cultivators, he could rely on decades of rich combat experience to read their subtle movements and strike at the hidden flaws in their spiritual qi flow. But against these painless, relentless hunks of iron driven purely by raw Rhyme energy, he had no clever martial tricks to rely upon—he could only meet them head-on in a brutal, bone-crushing contest of pure physical power.

And his current broken, bleeding body feared nothing more than a direct, head-on collision.

Vrumm—!

The foremost golem ignited blue jets of compressed gas beneath its heavy iron feet, propelling its colossal frame forward with a terrifying, unnatural speed that defied its massive weight. The iron drills in its hands let out a piercing, high-pitched whine that split the thunder, locking directly onto Gu Yao’s crushed chest.

Gu Yao gripped the thick, cloth-wrapped hilt of his hammer with both hands, his knuckles turning stark white as the Immortal-Locking Nails embedded deep in his spinal column pulsed violently, nearly bursting through his bleeding skin.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

The shattered warhammer and the whirling iron drills collided with a deafening screech of tearing metal. The sonic wave erupted in that single instant, vibrating the falling rain within ten meters into a temporary atmospheric vacuum. Gu Yao felt a tidal wave of terrifying recoil surge up through his forearms and slam directly into his internal organs. He let out a muffled groan of agony, his boots plowing two five-meter-long deep trenches into the thick, mud-soaked earth.

"A-Yao!" Shen Yi shrieked, her eyes wide with horror as she watched dark, clotted blood seep continuously from the corners of his lips. She tried desperately to rush forward to his side, but several terrified mortals behind her grabbed her clothes and pulled her back with frantic strength.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Don't go... those are the Immortals' monsters... going out there is just seeking death!"

The three thousand mortals trembled in the mud, a paralyzing numbness and existential terror shrouding their minds once more. Before these titanic iron engines of death, mortal flesh seemed as fragile, brittle, and insignificant as sun-dried porcelain.

Gu Yao wiped the thick, dark blood from his jaw, his dark eyes turning unnaturally cold and sharp. From the corner of his blurred vision, he saw the second and third golems already bypassing his position, their heavy iron feet crushing the mud as they charged straight toward the three thousand defenseless mortals cowering in the rear.

It was their automated programming—prioritizing the harvest of the most concentrated, productive "blood ore."

"In my presence... you dare harvest human life?"

Gu Yao whispered through his blood-stained teeth. His right hand suddenly reached behind his back, his fingers digging deep into the torn, bloody flesh of his spinal column to grasp his own bone.

He was gambling everything on a single throw of the dice. He was gambling on how much "Divinity" this crippled, failing body could still unleash before the cursed Immortal-Locking Nails completely sealed his life force and killed him on the spot.

"SHATTER!!!"

Gu Yao let out a raw, self-destructive roar that sounded more like a dying beast than a human being. He did not attempt the fatal strain of pulling out the second nail. Instead, he employed an extremely dangerous, long-forbidden technique, forcibly funneling the absolute last shred of his divine sense origin directly into the shattered, rusted warhammer.

The originally pitch-black, silent hammer known as "Severed Head" emitted a dull, menacing, and blinding red glow in that miraculous instant.

Gu Yao’s silhouette vanished completely from the mire.

The very next second, he materialized directly above the iron shoulder of the second golem.

BOOM—!

The crushing strike slammed directly onto the golem’s massive head. The reinforced black-iron skull buckled and caved in instantly under Gu Yao’s staggering weight, the complex internal gears, springs, and copper conduits snapping like dry twigs under the violent surge of his divine sense. Gu Yao did not pause for even a fraction of a breath. Utilizing the massive recoil of the impact, he forcibly twisted his waist in mid-air, spinning his entire body into a blood-stained, metal-tearing hurricane of pure destruction.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Three consecutive, heavy impacts echoed through the stormy gorge. Within a mere span of three seconds, deep, crater-like hammer marks were stamped directly into the glowing cores of the three remaining iron beasts.

With his final, desperate strike, Gu Yao threw his entire body into the chest of the last golem, driving the heavy hammer head straight into its mechanical heart.

Accompanied by a horrifying screech of tearing metal and shattering gears, the four priceless Harvesting Golems froze instantly in the pouring rain. Their green glowing cores flickered out, and their massive frames collapsed violently into the mud, transforming into nothing more than useless heaps of smoking scrap iron.

Gu Yao leaned heavily on the hilt of his hammer, kneeling on one knee in the thick, blood-stained mud.

His left shoulder was completely dislocated, the sharp, jagged white ends of his broken bone piercing cleanly through his torn skin. His ragged breathing was accompanied by wet, bloody foam at his lips, and his field of vision began to blur into dark, swirling shadows.

"Brother Gu..."

A young mortal boy walked forward with trembling legs, his small hands clutching a dry, cracked piece of coarse grain cake. He stared down at Gu Yao’s scar-ridden, bleeding body, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the cold rain. "You... you can't die here. Please, we're all following you."

Gu Yao slowly raised his head, staring into the youth’s immature yet fiercely determined eyes.

In that quiet moment, he suddenly felt a profound, unimaginable surge of strength welling up from deep within his chest. It was not the ethereal spiritual qi of the immortals, nor was it the cold power of divinity. It was something far tougher, far purer, and infinitely more resilient—the unyielding willpower of humanity itself.

"Move."

Gu Yao spat out a single, unyielding word. Grasping the young boy’s thin, trembling hand, he forced his broken limbs to obey and stood up once again.

He turned his blood-soaked gaze upward, looking toward the high canyon wall at Mo Sha’s face—a face now distorted with absolute, paralyzing terror.

"Eighty-two miles... remaining."