Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Arcane Battle (Second Update Today)

"Tsk tsk... You old fool, you don't even understand what truth is, yet you dare call others demons? Looks like I'll be forced to rid the world of evil yet again..." A strange noise came from the black-robed man as his body trembled more violently, and now he was shrouded entirely in black mist.

"No need to waste words with him. This fiend is gathering power!" Nan Fenglang's pink lips parted as she shouted crisply. With a flick of her long water sleeves, countless slender wind needles shot forth, slicing through the air and hurtling toward the black mist.

The old man stamped the ground hard and, dragging his great sword that radiated dazzling red light, leaped high, swinging in midair to send a crimson arc slashing toward the mist.

The envoy of the Northstar Clan pointed his right hand skyward and intoned, "Power of the stars, destroy this fiend!" A shaft of starlight pierced the clouds, shooting straight from the distant heavens toward the black mist.

"Tsk tsk... Impressive attacks, but a step too late! Awaken!" The black mist surged, and the black-robed man suddenly darted backward, flying out of the mist.

A deep, muffled sigh came from within the darkness.

Boom! The three attacks struck the black mist in unison, dispersing it at once. Within stood a man clad in battered armor, who slowly opened his eyes. He stretched his right hand forward, conjuring a shield of light to block all three assaults.

"Hmm?" This armored figure's face was covered in debris, his skin cracked inch by inch, sloughing away like the dried bark of an ancient tree. His eyes were dull, his eyeballs shriveled like dried pits set in their sockets.

"Blood Sword Technique, Wind Needles, Power of the Stars... You are from Iron Sword Sect, you from the Nan Feng Clan, and you from the Northstar Clan..." The armored man lowered his right hand, withdrawing the shield, while flakes of rust and dead skin fell steadily to the ground.

"Is this how you greet your elders? Is this rudeness common among the younger generation now?" His voice was hoarse and parched, like air forced through a tattered bellows.

Nan Fenglang scrutinized the stranger, her gaze settling upon his chest. There was a gaping hole in his armor there, revealing a shriveled heart withered and dry, not a trace of moisture left. Broken ribs jutted into the air, pale and stark. Finally, her eyes landed on his right chest, where, beneath the rust, the faint character for "Xuan" could just be discerned.

"Are you alive or dead?" the old man demanded, beard bristling.

"So impolite—do you greet your elders this way?" The armored man's withered eyes turned to the old man. "Alive or dead? How should I answer? I suppose I am already dead, and yet I live." He raised his right hand to look at it.

Nan Fenglang drew a sharp breath. This man, though clad in battered armor, bore the character "Xuan," proof enough that he was—or once had been—a man of the Xuanming Kingdom.

"And how may we address you, elder?" Nan Fenglang asked.

"I am Xuan Zhan."

At the utterance of this name, it was as if the very air grew heavy.

"What! That's Xuan Zhan? Wasn't General Xuan Zhan supposed to have been dead for over a hundred years?"

"Is he truly that peerless warlord, the God of War of the Xuanming Kingdom?"

"Thirty years undefeated on the battlefield, a legend of a hundred victories, said to have slain ten thousand foes..."

Zhou Yu listened to those around him recounting the armored man's glorious history beneath the ice wall, and muttered, "He sounds formidable indeed."

"So it is the esteemed Xuan Zhan. I am Nan Fenglang, second-generation disciple of the Nan Feng Clan," Nan Fenglang said with a deep bow.

"Elder Xuan, I am Beichen Wan, current elder of the Northstar Clan," the envoy said, bowing as well.

The old man was debating whether to show respect to one who had been dead for a century, when suddenly the black-robed man gave a strange laugh.

"Tsk tsk, my collection is indeed impressive. Though it seems you all have much to say, time is precious..." the black-robed man called from behind Xuan Zhan.

"Collection? Yours?" Xuan Zhan turned to face him. "And who are you, that you dare not even show your true face, practitioner of the crooked path?"

"Tsk tsk... such discourtesy. Is this how you greet your benefactor who restored you to life?" The black-robed man stepped closer to Xuan Zhan.

"Tsk tsk... No wonder you were betrayed all those years ago, with such a foul temper..." the black-robed man continued.

The armored man reached out to seize him, but his hand halted midair, unable to move. He glared and demanded, "What have you done to me?"

"Tsk tsk... I granted you new life and a perfect body. In exchange, you serve under my control," the black-robed man replied.

"Curse you! How dare you control me!" Xuan Zhan roared.

The black-robed man trembled with laughter and said, "Enough. Kill the three little ants before you." He extended a hand, gnarled and withered like a dead branch, the skin clinging to bone, bloodless, the long nails caked with dried blood. With his right forefinger, he touched Xuan Zhan's back lightly.

At once, the light in Xuan Zhan's eyes faded. He turned to face Nan Fenglang and her companions, his voice a deep growl: "Die!"

Both his arms glowed a deep red, thick and substantial, as though blood itself flowed over them.

"Swift Step Technique!" Nan Fenglang cried, hurling two wind talismans at the old man and Beichen Wan.

The old man and Beichen Wan nodded thanks; Beichen Wan floated back atop the ice wall, while the old man stepped forward, placing himself before Nan Fenglang. The three formed a classic close-mid-range formation.

Before the storied might of Xuan Zhan, even such powerful figures as the old man, Nan Fenglang, and Beichen Wan dared not act carelessly, and coordinated tightly.

"Go! Let your strength shake the world once more!" The black-robed man slapped Xuan Zhan's back.

"Kill!" Xuan Zhan threw a punch, the blood-red force forming a crimson wave that hurtled at the old man and Nan Fenglang with overwhelming might.

"Dodge!" Nan Fenglang called, flying away on the wind. The old man, aided by the speeding talisman, moved with ghostly swiftness and barely avoided the blow.

The crimson force punched through the ice wall, boring a tunnel dozens of meters thick and shooting into the ice valley.

Within the valley, Hua Queyue's eyes narrowed. His hands danced rapidly through a sequence of seals, conjuring a doppelgänger that sped toward the oncoming red light aimed at the Sacred Beast.

A green shield of light appeared just in time, blocking the red force before it could strike the Sacred Beast. Hua Queyue let out a deep, exhausted sigh of relief.

Boom, boom, boom... More than a dozen crimson waves broke through the ice wall, flying straight for the Sacred Beast.

Hua Queyue's heart sank. It was too late; his concentration wavered, and the energy chains in his hands grew thinner.

At that moment, the Sacred Qilin slowly opened its eyes.

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