Chapter 33: Diga, Preparing for Battle

In the film, the self-assured Brother Ying—who believed he was in control—had just emerged as a dragon from the pool. Yet, as he readied himself to seek out his adversary, he was suddenly struck dumb. What was this skeletal serpent? Even the environment had changed. What had he experienced? Where was he now?

Lost in existential doubt, Brother Ying felt a chill sweep across his body. Looking more closely, he realized a gigantic skeletal serpent had set its sights on him. Though it was nothing but bare bones, the terrible killing intent locked onto him provoked Brother Ying’s fury. Since when did anyone dare show him such disrespect? So what if it was larger? Even if it were a celestial being, it should bow to him.

Without hesitation, Brother Ying attacked first. His dragon’s head roared, spewing flames to incinerate the skeletal dragon. But the skeletal creature neither dodged nor resisted; it let the flames wash over it as though it were merely bathing, utterly unafraid.

Brother Ying was stunned, but only grew more enraged. He lunged wildly, slashing with his talons, biting with his jaws. For a time, he wrestled and battered the bone serpent relentlessly.

Suddenly, Brother Ying’s movements froze. Lowering his head, he saw a ghastly section of tailbone, sharp as a blade, driven straight through his chest. This first emperor, resurrected from death and capable of transformation, was powerless before this millennia-old monstrous serpent.

Grievously wounded, Brother Ying reverted to human form, clutching the serpent’s bone with gritted teeth. “I am the emperor of Great Qin—” But before he could finish, the serpent’s tailbone flicked, and he was torn limb from limb, his remains scattered and decaying, his final words left unsaid.

Zhang Kai watched helplessly. As expected, creatures from lesser magical worlds stood no chance against such an ancient serpent. Even stripped of its mystical powers, its physical might alone could sweep away all opposition.

But if he brought forth something even stronger, the risks would be immense. Should he summon a being more powerful than this serpent, and it defeated the monster, how would he ever recover it? And if he failed to reclaim it, the consequences could be catastrophic—unleashing such a presence upon the world could spell disaster, and then the blame would rest squarely on his shoulders.

Perhaps technology could help? There were plenty of powerful technological weapons. Even if the largest couldn’t be used here, there were smaller, formidable ones. Yet just as Zhang Kai was considering this, he sensed something, and immediately concealed himself.

Peeking out, Zhang Kai saw the old fortune-teller and the young disciple of the Bone Sect emerging from another cave. They, too, had arrived.

“The Serpent!” The Bone Sect youth’s eyes blazed with excitement as he murmured.

“Quiet, keep your voice down! This serpent isn’t dead—it's turned into a skeletal fiend. This is bad,” the fortune-teller muttered, eyes wide in consternation.

The young disciple’s gaze was sharp. “No matter. Any bone can be overcome.”

The fortune-teller snapped, “I know your sect has its secret arts. A thousand years ago, there was a zombie whose bones resisted decay, undestroyed by thunder or divine blades—yet your sect dissolved him to nothing. But now, with spiritual energy only just returning, how much power can your secret arts really muster?”

“If I lacked confidence, I wouldn’t have come,” said the youth. “This is the Three Yang Bone-Melting Elixir, the only remaining stock from my sect in a thousand years. It can dissolve even the legendary Sun God Iron, let alone undead bone. Though it’s weakened over time, it will suffice to subdue the serpent’s soul.” As he spoke, he produced a small vial.

The fortune-teller’s eyes bulged. “Well, well, Old Zhao, you’ve been hiding treasures even from me! After decades of friendship, you still keep secrets?”

“Tell you? So you can covet what little our sect has left? Save it. What matters now is how to get close enough to pour the elixir onto the serpent’s head.” The youth’s brow furrowed; he was clearly troubled, unaccustomed as he was to fighting.

The fortune-teller remained calm. “No rush. The others haven't arrived yet. The Demonic Sect are warlike, the Insect Sect has their swarms, and the Blood Refining Sect has their own cannon fodder.”

“And what if they’re thinking the same?” the youth sneered.

“Then it’s a contest of patience. In this tomb, only the serpent is a real threat. The rest are just to deter ordinary folk. We’ve probed three times and never discerned the others’ true intentions. They're too deep. But even the most patient will lose composure eventually. I mentioned the sun-and-moon’s shared sky—if they truly want something, they’ll act soon enough. There’s no use rushing,” the fortune-teller said with an amiable smile.

“Let’s wait, then. I’ll set up precautions so we aren’t exposed,” replied the youth.

Their conversation was quiet, audible only because Zhang Kai’s inner strength allowed him to sense from afar.

Yet their words left Zhang Kai silent. He was a mere outsider—a rookie in this field. Only now did he truly understand what it meant to deal with old foxes.

And the others—Gu Mingyu, Wang Tingting, Master Chongming—each, so vivid before, now seemed utterly transformed. You think you know their identities? All a ruse. You think you know their motives? Also false.

These people were either wily veterans or trained by some system, their minds deep and inscrutable.

But in cultivation, power is what truly counts. Let them plot—he would ensure they gained nothing.

With a grin, Zhang Kai sat down and fiddled with his tablet, pulling up a Japanese TV series.

Ultraman Tiga!

Of all fantasy films, this was immune to the world’s spiritual energy changes. After all, as long as you had the transformation device, you could become Ultraman.

Back at Mount Wudang, when downloading movies, he’d made sure to get all kinds of Ultraman series, and had successfully used the Spark Lance to transform once. The experience was novel, though it lasted only three minutes.

Unfortunately, Ultraman too was suppressed by the reality’s laws—his light-based skills couldn’t be used, but his inner strength and martial arts were unaffected. Perhaps things would be different off Earth, but Zhang Kai had yet to try.

For now, he needed Ultraman’s transformation to conceal his identity. Let them guess—no matter how they wracked their brains, they’d never imagine Ultraman could exist in this world.

Casually, he snatched the Spark Lance from Daigu just as he was about to battle a monster, then Zhang Kai sat down to await the next move.

Time passed slowly.

Just as the old fortune-teller predicted, Gu Mingyu and the others grew impatient and emerged from a cave.

Sensing their arrival, Zhang Kai focused his attention.

The girl with twin ponytails frowned. “No one’s here. Impossible.”

“Ha, it seems we underestimated the Wudang disciple and the Bone Sect youth,” Master Chongming sneered.

Now, standing side by side, the two appeared in perfect partnership—their earlier antagonism had been mere pretense.

“It doesn’t matter—we’re running out of time. If we wait any longer, our chances of obtaining the divine body grow slimmer,” Gu Mingyu said impassively.

“Agreed. Let’s act. By now, the divine body of the Lord of Changling Mountain should be in the imperial tomb’s coffin. Let’s find it and leave,” the girl nodded.

“I’ll check the surroundings first,” Gu Mingyu said, opening a backpack. A swarm of insects took flight and dispersed in all directions. Among them, one shimmered with unusual intelligence.

It was none other than the Scarlet-Tailed Wasp!