Xiang Xian plummeted toward the ground in an instant, abruptly snuffing out all the flames on his body before crashing through the branches of the trees. Falling from nearly a thousand zhang in the sky with the Golden Dragon’s diving momentum, he slammed solidly into the forest below.
Amid the chaotic crashes came excruciating pain. In the final moment, Xiang Xian mobilized all his power to protect himself and “boomed” into the underbrush.
The trees along the path of his fall were flattened. Around Xiang Xian, a small area scorched by flames appeared like a ring of fire. In the darkness, the embers emitted a faint glow.
Xiang Xian tried several times to stand, but even the slightest movement brought agony to his ribs, and he couldn’t lift his arms. Xiao Kun was nowhere to be seen. Xiang Xian’s Fire Feather flight power came from A Huang, but this time on the way home, he hadn’t brought A Huang along. Thus, when they fell from mid-air, he couldn’t spread wings to glide. Even so, at the moment of impact, he relied on the remaining A Huang’s Feather to dissipate some of the momentum; otherwise, he would surely have been smashed into a pulp of flesh and blood.
The Wisdom Sword and Demon Shaking Bell had both been left at the Kaifeng Exorcism Department. No one had expected an ambush mid-flight—it had been far too careless.
Of course, in the past when Xiang Xian acted alone, he had faced even greater dangers. Now that he was traveling with Xiao Kun, he had let his guard down.
While reflecting on this, Xiang Xian shook out his Qiankun Bag with one hand. As the initial daze and heavy impact from the fall faded, the pain throughout his body became sharply clear.
He rummaged out a Medicine Pill, crushed it, and swallowed it. He scanned the surroundings but didn’t call out for Xiao Kun, unsure where he had landed.
“Xiao Kun?” Enduring the pain, Xiang Xian took out the Echoing Voice Insect and whispered, “Where are you? Can you hear me?”
The night was thick and heavy, with no reply.
Xiang Xian sensed an odd change in the flow of Spiritual Power around him. The presence was neither fully demonic nor spiritual, yet its power was so immense that, reviewing all he had seen in his life, only Yuzhou and Pi Changge could compare.
No… it was even stronger by a few degrees.
What was that? Xiang Xian didn’t move a step, standing quietly. He felt as if countless eyes in the dense forest were fixed on him, but soon the sensation of being locked on vanished.
This was the most dangerous situation they had encountered since meeting. What could match the Golden Dragon’s speed? It had to be one of King Mu’s subordinates.
Xiang Xian staggered a few steps forward and surveyed the terrain. After leaving Dongting Lake, they had flown several hundred li and should still be in the Ezhou area of Hubei, a region with vast uninhabited forests.
Xiang Xian stopped trying the Echoing Voice Insect to contact Xiao Kun. Instead, he moved through the dense woods, trying not to make a sound. Reaching a spot faintly lit by starlight, he saw a vast body of water ahead—this was the hilly area north of Dongting Lake, where the wind drove waves lapping one after another toward the shore.
When Xiao Kun fell, he made a massive crash and plunged headfirst into the lake. Cold water surged in, and a powerful suction pulled him under. Countless tentacles emanating Demonic Qi rose from the lake bottom, dragging him toward the depths.
Xiao Kun struggled fiercely, channeling Icy Spiritual Power. With a wave of his hand, frigid Magical Power gathered the water into blades, severing the tentacles wrapped around his ankle.
He turned, and what he saw was a dark, city-sized Demon Beast waving its tentacles all over its body, staring at him under the hazy blue light at the lake bottom. Its countless eyes opened simultaneously, blasting through Xiao Kun’s consciousness. Under the gaze of those many eyeballs, he nearly lost control of his body. He struggled madly, gathering Ghost Pupil Power to shatter the mental restraint.
The sense of control lightened in an instant. Xiao Kun didn’t dare linger and turned sharply, swimming toward the surface.
“Xiao Kun?” Xiang Xian whispered.
Xiang Xian whipped around as a wave of Demonic Qi rushed toward him.
“He won’t die,” a somewhat familiar voice said. “Instead of worrying about him, worry about yourself.”
A figure emerged from the darkness. Upon hearing the voice, Xiang Xian rapidly recalled where he had heard it before.
The shadow slowly materialized: a boy who appeared about fifteen years old, with faint foreign features on his face. Under sunlight, he might pass for decent-looking, but the boy exuded an extremely uncomfortable evil aura, making even his face evoke a bit of hatred.
Demon Race! Xiang Xian’s mind raced, identifying the intruder.
A pitch-black Black Bird flew off the boy’s shoulder and sank into the night.
“Where’s your Wisdom Sword?” the Demon Race boy said deeply. “Why didn’t you bring it? You’ve disappointed me greatly.”
“Even without the Wisdom Sword, dealing with you would be effortless, Sa Luan,” Xiang Xian said, a smile curling at his lips.
The Demon Race boy jolted abruptly. He had never met Xiang Xian before—how had he recognized him?
Xiang Xian had once seen Sa Luan in a dream awakened by the White Deer. The tone and manner of the figure before him matched the dream exactly! Now he had no doubt: this was Yelu Yari, taken away by Mr. Ying and turned demonic!
“Want to spar a few moves?” Xiang Xian wasted no more words, assuming the starting stance of Taizu Long Fist. “Come on then.”
