As the ship drew near, the air thickened with veils of mist.
Xiongba's eyes went cold. "It's found us. Move!"
Whoosh.
Everyone except the crew took to the air at once.
A deep, rolling "Oooh—" answered them as a cyan jiaolong burst out of the sea. Azure eyes glared with killing intent. Its aura slammed into them like a wall.
"Hahaha… worthy of a creature with 'dragon' in its name. It does have some claws. But did you not bother to sense our strength before showing yourself?"
Chuckles rippled as the others heard Xiongba's tone.
For a simple reason: the flood dragon's strength was nothing special—two techniques at most, hardly formidable. It wasn't even at the level of a land immortal.
In the original tale of "Seven Martial Heroes Slaying the Dragon," they'd seemed heroic; in truth, their strength wasn't high. The real butcher behind the curtain had been Xu Fu.
Now, however, every one of them had stepped into the realm of land immortals, and Xiongba had received divine favor from Liu Che.
This little dragon truly didn't measure up.
"Freeze—Moonfall of Ice!"
Qin Shuang unleashed his signature art. Frost surged, and the sea within ten miles snapped solid in an instant.
Fear flashed across the jiaolong's face. Then it did something that left everyone dumbfounded.
It flicked its tail—
and bolted.
Damn… that was shameless.
Xiongba had been primed to boast. Who'd have thought the dragon would turn out to be such a coward?
"Get back here, old man's offering—prepared for the God!"
He crooked two fingers.
A massive suction yanked the jiaolong back like a hooked fish.
The sight was ridiculous: a vast flood dragon being reeled in by the tail as if it were an earthworm. Moments ago it had been all ferocity; now it was reduced to a pitiful, mewling thing.
The contrast was almost comical.
Bu Jingyun looked the dragon over, shook his head, and sighed. "I thought the 'dragon' Master spoke of would be terrifying. So it's just this…"
"Brother, that's not right," Nie Feng added. "If we'd come before, we couldn't have handled this fiend at all. We have grown stronger; the dragon hasn't grown weak."
As laughter ran through the group, blood-tinged tears suddenly welled in the jiaolong's eyes. It let out a keening cry—like a plea for help, like a lament for fate.
Xiongba's gaze narrowed. He frowned. "This isn't right. Is it calling for help?"
His power had sealed the creature's body. Other than wailing, it couldn't so much as twitch a claw. Though he held it fast, Xiongba hadn't harmed it.
It was, after all, an offering.
One didn't damage an offering.
As that thought crossed his mind, black clouds boiled up from the western sea. In a blink, the sky went dark.
Crack—
Thunder split the air.
A colossal dragon head thrust down from the clouds. The pressure it exuded rolled over them in a palpable wave.
This was a true dragon.
The head alone was ten meters across. The body stretched a full kilometer.
The old dragon had come, confident it could rout the villains trying to seize its young.
Instead, the men below surged forward with greater battle lust.
Xiongba threw back his head and laughed at the hideous visage. "They say good things come in pairs. Seems my lucky day's arrived. Everyone—take them both. Once the remaining sacred stones arrive, our world is going to soar."
He'd offered up the dragon vein before and felt a substantial rise in strength. If they sacrificed two dragons, then added the other sacred stones…
He would break through in leaps.
Wuming brushed a thumb along his long sword, smiling. "The Master Priest speaks truth. We can offer them here and now."
"This old dragon looks mighty," someone who had taken dragon-turtle blood said with a chuckle, "but take a closer look—those scales are duller than the jiaolong's. It's near the end of its span."
When the dragon first descended, it had charged in full of fight. Then it realized it couldn't win and still tried to struggle. Only when it recognized death looming did it cry for help.
What did that tell you?
It told you the old dragon was well past prime—and likely to die soon.
"Humans," the dragon rumbled, "your sins are piled to the heavens. You slaughter the spirit beasts of this world without end. If not for the dwindled aura of this age, the old dragon and I would kill all of you in a single bite."
"So—you survived from the ancient times," Xiongba said mildly.
"Correct."
"Then hear this. The world has its limit. The new era begins with obedience to my God."
He had no patience for further posturing.
His eyes flashed a signal.
They swarmed.
To be fair, the old dragon's strength wasn't low. It spoke in the human tongue, called wind and rain, even commanded thunder.
But against a pack of hardened fiends?
In a short, brutal clash, the giant beast crashed from the sky, sending storm-waves surging as it hit the sea.
The jiaolong watched its mother fall and whimpered.
"Enough. One more strike and the old dragon will die. Prepare the altar!"
"Yes!"
…
On the other shore, in Dongying—
The restored Young Sword Saint and Xue Xinluo were in high spirits, living in each other's pockets, blissfully inseparable.
He had already bent the people here to his will. Every shrine had been torn down and replaced with temples to God.
"Husband, there are small countries near Dongying. Shall we bring them under our sway?" Xue Xinluo asked.
"Of course. If I'm idle any longer, the priest will scold me for laziness. This time, thanks to the God of Eternity and the Master Priest, you and I were reunited."
Thinking of the past, Dugu the Swordmaster couldn't help but sigh. He had once believed the path of ruthlessness to be the ultimate move: sever emotion, devote oneself to the sword, even devising Sword Twenty-Two, Sword Twenty-Three.
Looking back now—
How ridiculous.
A mere mortal trying to plumb the divine way—no different than a fool mouthing words he didn't understand.
Now, under divine grace, he cultivated God's arts, continued on the old path of sentiment, and soared side by side with his beloved. In a few short months he had broken into the realm of land immortals—and was still climbing.
It proved a simple truth.
Those who preach the extinguishing of emotion and desire are second-rate fools.
Only a fool would believe them.
Xue Xinluo nestled in the Swordmaster's arms, at peace. Though born in Dongying, she had little love for that nation: crude, cruel, inhuman.
…
In the Central Plains—
Before Baijian Villa,
A team followed Heihan's trail to the gates.
"Here?"
"Yes. Master Wen Chouchou said that, in the original course of history, Heihan fell here. Let's move—Master Priest is waiting overseas."
Naturally, the Sword-Worship Villa refused them entry.
The result: heavy casualties.
Heihan, not yet forged into a sword-body, was taken outright by the Eternal Church.
By now, the followers of the Eternal Church had secured Bailu and Heihan. Based on Wen Chouchou's calculations, the last of the four sacred stones was beneath Leifeng Pagoda at West Lake.
Wen Chouchou was one of Xiongba's believers.
He'd once been weak, armed only with a silver tongue that could talk the dead into life. Countless people had looked down on him.
After joining the Church, he vowed to make up for the "Mud Bodhisattva" fiasco. He chose the Divination sub-path.
Computation.
The scope of each casting wasn't vast, but the art was damned useful.
"Let's go. Take this last treasure, then make for the sea."
"Yes, Master Priest."
Wen Chouchou tucked Bailu into a brocade box and hid it in his robe.
A few days later,
the group gathered beneath Leifeng Pagoda.
Wen Chouchou went straight to a hidden passage, and at last, in the tunnels under the tower, found the final wonder.
…
It looked like a dark-golden bowl.
Plain at a glance—
but the force it contained surpassed that of the other three sacred stones.
"This one's no joke. Without the art of calculation, we'd never pin it down."
Even holding it light as air, he felt power washing up his arms.
Truly, a marvel of heaven and earth.
That same day, Wen Chouchou rushed for the coast with both treasures.
To make time, they used inner force to drive the ship.
It had taken the heroes three days to reach the island.
Wen Chouchou made it in a day and a half.
(That didn't count the time he'd spent ferreting out the other treasures.)
Before they reached the destination, they saw a huge shape floating on the sea.
Someone couldn't help swallowing.
"Worthy of the Master Priest—to subdue such a terrifying beast."
"Not just one—there's a smaller one next to it!"
"Huh? Buy one, get one free!"
Wen Chouchou smiled faintly and followed their gaze.
Sure enough, beside the giant dragon, a smaller dragon's shadow coiled.
Seemed the Master Priest's luck was running hot.
In a moment,
they docked. The island no longer resembled itself—it had been remade into a vast altar.
With hundreds of land-immortal masters working in concert, it wasn't surprising the island had become such a thing.
"Master Priest, we have not failed you. The remaining three sacred stones are gathered!"
Wen Chouchou presented Bailu and the bowl.
The men beside him produced Heihan.
Xiongba nodded, pleased. "Good. The altar was completed yesterday. Prepare to offer—"
"But Master Priest, shouldn't we wait for the world's promotion?"
"Wait any longer and the old dragon will die."
Wen Chouchou understood at once.
Once all was laid, Xiongba began the second sacrifice.
Experience made him calm.
The vast island kindled with rainbow radiance, a fairyland of light. Thick mists welled; ten-thousand-zhang beams soared skyward.
The old dragon, breath ragged, looked upon the signs and trembled.
She hated the fate that had befallen her.
But if she could gaze upon the true God before she died,
it wasn't a loss, either—he thought.