Chapter 52

The instant the sword pierced his body, Cheng Yan’s massive dragon form thrashed wildly, slamming against the grand formation’s barrier from all directions. His agonized roars as a demon echoed for miles.

At the same time, the spiritual power within him poured out in a torrent from the gash above his dragon head, draining away at an alarming speed.

Yet in the short term, the threat he posed remained unabated.

Jiao Dragon Demons possessed incredibly tough bodies, and now that Cheng Yan had lost all reason, he rampaged like a cornered beast. Even a glancing blow from him would spell serious trouble for Shang Si.

The spiritual sword she had just unleashed had consumed at least half her spiritual power to form. Dodging his frenzied, suicidal assaults on top of that was taking its toll; she was beginning to struggle.

Meanwhile, outside the grand formation, the battle near Fog Moon Shoal had also reached its final phase.

Jiao Dragon Demons were bloodthirsty and cruel. In combat against humans, they often flew into a killing frenzy, showing no mercy or regard for the consequences.

Humans, however, were different. Confronted by such savage demons, cultivators of weaker resolve often succumbed to fear and terror. Once their mindset fractured, they fell at a disadvantage—or lost their lives altogether.

This was why the encirclement operation, which had backfired into a deadly counterattack, had drawn hordes of cultivators from the major sects yet resulted in such heavy casualties.

By contrast, the clansmen Qin Xinying had brought from the Demon Race were few in number but each a powerhouse in battle.

As the Young Clan Leader of the Fire Phoenix Clan, she had personally handed over the clan’s sacred artifact. The moment Shang Si activated it, Qin Xinying sensed it almost instantly. Gauging how much time Cheng Yan had left in Shang Si’s grasp, she fought with even greater ferocity.

This battle concerned not only the survival of the Three Realms but also the future standing of her Fire Phoenix Clan in the Demon Realm.

The Jiao Dragon Clan’s defeat was inevitable, but every last one of their clansmen had to be eradicated without mercy!

Yet just as Qin Xinying slew another foe and scanned for her next target… a graceful figure blocked her path. “Qin Xinying, are you trying to get yourself killed? Look at those wounds on you!”

That familiar voice.

Qin Xinying tilted her head slightly to peer at the interloper. Qingzhi’s face, usually aloof and distant, was now etched with fury.

Her way forward barred, Qin Xinying slowed her pace.

She lowered her eyes, a tender smile curving her lips—one Qingzhi had witnessed countless times, familiar beyond words. “Ghost Lord Qingzhi, why aren’t you out there slaying the enemy? Instead, you’re here watching over me. Whatever do you intend?”

Unlike the empty-handed Qin Xinying, Qingzhi wielded a translucent emerald bow. Thick spiritual energy swirled around its frame as she gripped it, making it resemble a priceless work of art from afar.

But its elegant exterior belied its nature as a lethal weapon.

“Your Fire Phoenix Clan has already given its all in encircling the Jiao Dragon Demon today,” Qingzhi said. “With Cheng Yan trapped, wiping out the rest of his kin is only a matter of time. You don’t need to throw yourself into the fire like this.”

“Are you worried about me, Ghost Lord?” Qin Xinying teased with a coquettish laugh, her gaze smoldering with allure.

In this moment, she bore no resemblance to the cold-blooded killer who struck without hesitation to claim lives.

Qingzhi couldn’t withstand that blazing stare, nor suppress the flicker of affection stirring in her chest—but she couldn’t let herself flinch too obviously. Feigning composure, she replied, “I’m merely stating a fact. You can keep forcing yourself if you like, but it won’t aid your recovery later.”

If she pulled back now, the Phoenix Demon’s innate regenerative powers would mend her wounds in ten days to half a month at most.

Push past her limits, however, and damage her foundation, and it would take at least a year to heal fully.

More to the point, the recovery process itself would be far from pleasant.

Any clear-headed person knew the smart choice, but Qin Xinying was bull-headed. No talking sense into her.

“If it’s not concern, then thanks for the warning, Ghost Lord. I know my own injuries well enough.” With that, she moved to sidestep this particular obstacle and rejoin the fray.

But Qingzhi proved just as stubborn. Shift direction though she might, the Ghost Lord was there in the next instant, unmoving as a wall before her.

Qingzhi was the Ye Capital Ghost Lord, one of Shang Si’s most trusted lieutenants. If she was dead set against letting Qin Xinying pass, the injured woman stood no chance—nor would she have at full strength.

Qin Xinying, however, had her own tricks.

Her lovely eyes brimming with affection, she fixed her gaze on Qingzhi’s face. Stepping forward through the air, she drew close, one pace at a time, and murmured softly, “Sister Qingzhi, if I end up laid up healing for a year or so… you wouldn’t be able to stop worrying. You’d come visit me, wouldn’t you?”

The words caught Qingzhi off guard, leaving her momentarily stunned.

By the time she snapped out of it, Qin Xinying was already a hundred meters away.

Time passed minute by minute, and the current situation gradually became clear.

It was obvious that the Jiao Dragon Demons outside had reached the end of their tether. As for Cheng Yan, trapped in the grand formation by Shang Si… his rapidly depleting spiritual energy was no longer enough for him to continue driving his true body to launch attacks. After reverting to human form, the malice between his brows and eyes showed no sign of fading, his face was deathly pale, and his eyes brimmed with unwillingness.

From beginning to end, Shang Si had avoided direct confrontation with him. She remained coldly and calmly poised, waiting for the moment when Cheng Yan’s spiritual energy was completely exhausted before making her move.

Now, the timing was evidently just right.

“Is this all the Shang Family has got?” Having seen through Shang Si’s intentions, Cheng Yan seethed with hatred in his heart. “One generation is truly worse than the last.”

“All you Shangs are the same—you love meddling in others’ affairs, and it started with Shang Hongxiao.”

“Wanting to kill me? It won’t be that easy. I am a true descendant of the ancient demon bloodline, a dragon clan offspring…”

Cheng Yan began to lose his sanity, shifting from initial hysteria to gradual despair. It was only now that he seemed to clearly realize what awaited him next.

No matter how strong a person is, they cannot calmly await death’s arrival—and demons are no different.

In the end, he couldn’t even condense the protective spiritual light around his body.

At that moment, Shang Si made her move.

Cheng Yan’s sinister eyes immediately locked onto her with vigilance. “Shang Si, if you take on the blood debt of an ancient demon bloodline, heavenly dao will settle the score with you in time.” His words seemed like a final act of resistance.

“You’re right—you possess the ancient demon bloodline as a descendant, so I won’t kill you.”

She had prepared for this. With a flick of her left hand, an ancient, dim oil lamp instantly appeared in her palm. “This is the Soul-Locking Lamp. If you’re willing to enter it yourself, I won’t make trouble for you.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then, die.”

Her thin vermilion lips uttered the simplest words, yet they sent chills down one’s spine.

Cheng Yan’s fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly. He knew Shang Si could say it and mean it—no one in the Shang Family ever feared heavenly dao’s reckoning.

Hadn’t Shang Si’s sister, the previous Ye Lord, entered reincarnation the same way?

He fell silent, as if wrestling with the decision.

Shang Si saw through his thoughts and said calmly, “The crimes you’ve committed aren’t for me to judge. The Immortal Realm may be long gone, but heavenly dao endures. If heavenly dao takes pity on the ancient demon bloodline within you and spares you, you might still have a path to survival.”

The litany of atrocities committed by the Jiao Dragon Demons would face heavenly dao’s judgment.

To Shang Si, the punishment of body death and dao dissipation—scattering forever from the Three Realms—was far too lenient. The blood debt owed by Cheng Yan’s clan numbered far beyond ten million lives.

Shang Si’s final words successfully swayed him.

A sliver of hope was worth fighting for.

He looked up at Shang Si. “Fine, then. I’ll enter the Soul-Locking Lamp.”

As his words landed, Shang Si stepped forward twice and tossed the lamp into the air. At the same time, Cheng Yan exhausted the last of his spiritual energy, his soul detaching from his flesh body in soul form. After casting one final glance at Shang Si, he plunged straight into the lamp hovering mid-air.

The instant his soul entered, a ghostly blue flame suddenly ignited within the dim ancient oil lamp.

In the heart of that small cluster of fire, the faint shadow of a little Jiao Dragon was visible.

“Shang Si, you must honor your promise and protect my life—leave the judgment to heavenly dao!” Still uneasy even after entering the Soul-Locking Lamp, Cheng Yan couldn’t resist reminding her of her words. He feared she would hand him over to the cultivators of the Mortal Realm.

“Rest assured.” With those faint words, Shang Si retrieved the Soul-Locking Lamp and began casting spells to dismantle the formation.

Outside the array, the commotion of its withdrawal drew the notice of most people.

High-cultivators like Qingzhi and Lin Xiao detected the spiritual fluctuations from the grand formation first.

“It looks like Shang Girl over there is finished.” After expending some effort to dispatch the Jiao Dragon Demon in front of him, Lin Xiao caught his breath and exchanged a glance with another sect elder nearby.

Joy flickered in both their eyes.

The mess kicked up by the Jiao Dragon Demons under Cheng Yan’s lead was no small affair. Even with today’s biggest headache resolved, a mountain of fallout awaited them back home.

It took a little over a quarter-hour for Shang Si’s silhouette to gradually emerge into plain view.

Once the array patterns fully dissipated, she held the lamp and approached them.

Just as Shang Si prepared to speak and declare Cheng Yan’s defeat and capture…

A sudden yin wind roared through the sky, black clouds blotting out the sun like the prelude to a violent storm.

The breath everyone had just exhaled tightened once more in their throats.

Shang Si narrowed her eyes halfway, and soon her gaze locked onto a specific spot in the void.

Moments later, spiritual fluctuations stirred around that patch of emptiness, and a beautiful woman with a graceful figure and striking makeup materialized out of thin air before everyone.

No one noticed when she had arrived, or how long she had been hiding there.

Lin Xiao tried to probe the woman’s cultivation level, but no sooner had he sent out a thread of divine sense than it was flung back at him.

Not only that—the woman turned her head toward him with casual indifference. Her voice was gentleness itself, yet it concealed faint traces of ghostly allure that were all but imperceptible. “Such conduct on your part is rather offensive to a lady, sir.”

The words flowed into his ears like celestial music, and for a moment, Lin Xiao’s mind grew hazy.

Shang Si was the one who sensed something amiss. She acted swiftly, pulling him back from that strange daze.

She tilted her face up toward the woman, whose beauty was seductively exquisite to the extreme. Shang Si parted her crimson lips: “…”

The woman curved her red lips into a smile. “What a lively scene this is… Just look—the Jiao Dragon Clan, once at the pinnacle of our Demon Realm, reduced to such a state. How truly lamentable.”

Her lovely eyes lowered slightly, meeting Shang Si’s gaze. “Cheng Yan is dead?”

“No, not yet. I can smell his soul.”

With that, her seductive eyes fixed unabashedly on the Soul-Locking Lamp dangling from Shang Si’s hand, her intentions plain as day.

After all, to the Ghost Chariot Clan, souls were the greatest of tonics.