Chapter Fifty-Seven: Advance and Retreat

Time rewinds to several hours earlier.

Place: the burial site of the Underworld Night Fiend.

The area had already been tidied—corpses heaped and burned, bloodstains swept and covered with earth—yet a faint scent of blood still lingered in the air, drifting outward, attracting vultures to circle overhead, occasionally letting out low cries.

Suddenly, a patch of earth bulged up unexpectedly.

The protrusion grew larger and taller, soon resembling half a water barrel. Then, the damp soil split apart with a sharp crack, revealing a person’s upper body, writhing and twisting, emerging from the earth.

Had someone been present and able to see beneath the surface, they would have witnessed this figure sprouting from a pool of Underworld Night Fiend’s blood—first a torso, then gradually limbs and legs taking shape.

He stood nearly ten feet tall, naked, towering above ordinary men, though he was exceedingly thin, with elongated limbs. His face, hands, and body were pallid to the point of a bluish tinge. His eyebrows and hair gleamed golden, but his eyes were a mysterious deep blue, shining with uncanny hues, pupils vertical like those of a venomous serpent.

Upon emerging, the man’s vertical pupils contracted as he surveyed the ground around him. Suddenly, he crouched, dug up a chunk of sticky, congealed mud, and swallowed it whole, savoring the lingering taste of blood within. He murmured to himself, “Ah, the flavor of his companions’ blood—I’ve remembered it now.”

A cruel, sinister smile twisted his face. Slowly, he stood upright. Upon his chest, too, there burned the mark of the sixfold reincarnation—yet, unlike the slain fiends marked with Sanskrit, his bore the word: Dragon.

He was the Dragon King, bound by blood to the Underworld Night Fiends, able to borrow their lineage for his own power, and lord of all dragons.

The Dragon King sniffed the lingering scents in the air, then sprang forward, crawling spider-like, using all four limbs, racing eastward. He pressed his nose to the ground or lifted it high, capturing the faint traces left behind.

After a short run, a herd of wild deer appeared ahead. The Dragon King stretched his limbs, leapt onto the back of a strong buck, stabbed its brain with a finger, releasing a surge of blue light. The deer swelled as if inflated, then tore through the wilderness at frenzied speed, so swift it rivaled even the slowed cloud-boat of Tianku and his companions. At this rate, he would reach their ten-hour journey in just two or three more.

But...

The deer’s mad dash began well enough, but soon it grew visibly thinner, and after about three hours, it was little more than a skeleton. The Dragon King seized a wild boar to replace it, repeating his method, and sped onward once again.

When he withdrew his finger, the deer collapsed, limbs twitching, foam pouring from its mouth, spent and lifeless.

Thus, alternating mounts, the Dragon King pursued the cloud-boat with hurricane speed. Even Tianku could not have foreseen such a formidable adversary trailing behind; if not for Xiaonine’s suggestion to report, they might have been overtaken during a rest, assassinated on the spot.

Following the scent, changing beasts several times, and running when no mount could be found, the Dragon King gradually closed in on the western settlements. Nearly twenty hours had passed since their departure, yet he remained tireless, vertical pupils shining ever brighter.

His nakedness was gone, replaced by a layer of dark blue scales, wrapping him like armor.

At this moment, a pale mist appeared ahead, blocking the way. The Dragon King’s lips curled into a slight smile. He landed lightly, stood tall, and with a wave of his hand, the mist parted, revealing a broad path.

Across the path, a campfire burned low, nearly extinguished. Scattered bones littered the ground, and half a fat sheep hung above the flames, already dry and charred. Beside the fire stood a square-faced, browless man, his face slashed with scars, slowly approaching with a long black halberd in hand, its blade shrouded in tangible black vapor.

As soon as the browless man appeared, an overwhelming aura engulfed the scene. Black smoke surged from his body like flames, reaching several yards high. He leveled the halberd and said, “Dragon King, you should not have come!”

The Dragon King paused, as if recalling something, but quickly broke into a dry, rasping laugh like a saw scraping wood. “So it’s Jie Shen. Tell me, does this concern you?”

Jie Shen’s expression was grim. The opponent met him head-on with full force, not yielding an inch. This showed that the Dragon King’s progress over the past ten years far exceeded his own. As expected, today’s battle was even more dire than before; victory was impossible. The only hope was to wound him severely and drive him away.

Jie Shen merely smiled, offering no answer. “You’ve grown much stronger. But I wonder—do the old tricks still work on you?”

“Ah, so it does concern you,” replied the Dragon King, not addressing the question directly. He nodded, his face twisted as he extended a thin, long tongue to gently lick his vertical pupils. “Though the old ones remain, I can’t just stand idle.”

Without further words, the Dragon King stepped forward, body streaking like a serpent, hands clawed, aiming straight for Jie Shen’s chest.

The impact shook the ground.

Jie Shen’s halberd flew to meet the claws, locking in direct combat, neither side retreating, power clashing head-on.

The tremors ceased momentarily, then a thunderous noise erupted behind Jie Shen. Trees, some dozens of yards away, snapped and crashed, leaves and dust scattering high into the air.

Strangely, the Dragon King’s claw made no sound; only the trees’ collapse echoed. Jie Shen’s swastika-shaped bonfire was erased.

The two maintained their locked posture, but soon the Dragon King drifted back three yards, smiling, “Is that enough? Will you not step aside?”

Jie Shen’s expression changed as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He shook his head, revealing teeth stained red, and laughed. “You truly have grown stronger. The moves that once wounded you—I can no longer replicate.”

The black vapor surrounding him shrank, his aura diminished, yet he remained steadfast, a mountain barrier barring the way, blocking all passage.

Though he gave no answer, the Dragon King understood. His smile faded. “So, you intend to die here?”

Jie Shen kept smiling, but turned to gaze into the distant darkness behind him, then fixed his eyes on the Dragon King. “Do you know where I spent these ten years?”

The Dragon King’s smile vanished, replaced by a chilling, bizarre expression, like a serpent basking lazily before returning to the hunt. His vertical pupils stared coldly at Jie Shen, silent.

Jie Shen continued, blood flowing freely from his mouth. “I followed Mister Ghost Valley for seven years. At first, I was angry, but later, I grew calm…”

“Because there, I met a strange man who taught me things unfit for the light of day!”

Jie Shen stepped forward, spreading his arms wide, halberd in his right hand. The black vapor behind him elongated and transformed, forming a pair of jet-black wings that beat ceaselessly.

The Dragon King inhaled deeply, his body quivering. Behind him, a coiled serpent appeared, horned and clawed. He raised his head and let out a wild howl, like a wolf baying at the moon, charged with boundless might, rushing at Jie Shen!

Jie Shen’s halberd leapt, striking at the Dragon King’s hand. The blow landed with such force that the whole plain seemed to tremble. Dust surged up, spreading outward in waves.

Jie Shen staggered back several steps, blood spurting from his mouth, the earth beneath his feet cracking and leaving deep imprints. The Dragon King, too, was sent flying, tumbling in midair but landing firmly, the serpent shadow behind him vanished.

Then, silently, the black serpent appeared behind Jie Shen, coiling around, shredding the black wings. Though formed of vapor, blood spurted from them as if they were flesh.

Jie Shen roared, spinning his halberd. Countless halberd shadows filled the sky, piercing around the serpent. The Dragon King, just landing, let out a muffled grunt; blue breath tinged with red mist escaped his mouth and nose.

Within a few exchanges, Jie Shen was gravely wounded. The Dragon King, though faring better, showed deepening gravity in his eyes, recognizing the deadly power unleashed by Jie Shen’s desperation.

He could not continue. If the battle dragged on, even with strength remaining, he would lose the ability to unleash his full might.

Jie Shen, breathing heavily, braced himself, eyes locked on the Dragon King. He raised his halberd, the surrounding black vapor dissolving and climbing the weapon, thickening. At last, his face twisted into an uncanny smile—part grimace, part resolve.

Clearly, he was gathering power for the forbidden technique he’d mentioned. The Dragon King knew: if completed, it would be a world-shattering blow.

His mind raced, his actions quicker still. Predicting the threat, he darted toward Jie Shen, the air hissing at his speed. But Jie Shen anticipated him, and just as the Dragon King neared the halberd’s tip, blinding black light erupted before his eyes!

Dark as the depths of the stars, bright as the sun’s blaze at noon, fierce as primordial fire!

The Dragon King was blasted back a hundred yards by the overwhelming force.

At that desperate moment, his reflexes unmatched, the black scales covering him were stripped away, forming a shield the width of a man before him. His skin peeled off, exposing muscle and sinew, blood streaming, but he endured the attack.

Even so, the shock left the Dragon King battered—scales vanished, limbs scored with wounds deep to the bone. One arm was sheared in half by the black energy, leaving only two segments of bone, the wound smooth and charred.

Jie Shen sighed inwardly, but realized: the Dragon King’s rank was at least tenth, perhaps at the very pinnacle, approaching the eleventh tier, a full rank above himself. If he was so powerful, what of the Asura, the Heavenly King, or the hidden Bishamon behind the scenes? Had he already surpassed twelve ranks, reached the threshold of immortality, as did Ghost Valley’s master?

If so, all his schemes might come to naught…