Chapter 204: Primordial Yellow Dao Body: Dragon Battles in the Wild!
“Lightning King!” The Thunder King roared, his eyes bloodshot.
“Go!” The Lightning King, with his last breath, pushed him away and collapsed, blood pooling around him.
The Thunder King, enraged, attacked Hong Ni Poison Venerable.
The Poison Venerable, Lü Shijun, and the other Poisonous Sunflower Sect members, seeing his ferocious charge, his power like a raging tiger, retreated, not daring to face him.
As they retreated, the Thunder King grabbed a large rock and hurled it, crushing several Poisonous Sunflower Sect members as it flew towards Sha Lingshan.
She was forced to dodge, and Xiao Wang, the Sky King, whom she had been holding back, seized the opportunity and escaped.
The three surviving Divine Kings, regrouping their remaining forces, retreated, fighting as they went.
Their pursuers pressed their attack.
The Thunder King, unleashing his full power, intercepted the Purple Robe Evil Venerable.
He looked towards the Lightning King’s body, lying broken and bloodied in the distance, his eyes filled with rage and grief.
The Shen Ting Sect had to be revived.
They had endured too much, sacrificed too much.
Once, the Shen Ting Sect had been the most powerful Daoist sect.
Until four hundred years ago, when they had chosen the wrong side, supporting the Xiao family of the Great Liang Dynasty instead of the Li family of the Sheng Dynasty, alongside the Taisu Immortal Pavilion. They had been persecuted ever since, their power and influence dwindling.
Three hundred years ago, they had almost regained their former glory, but the Taisu Immortal Pavilion had interfered, thwarting their plans.
For three hundred years, they had endured, their hopes for revival passed down through generations.
And now, their chance had finally arrived, only to be met with defeat and despair.
They had to hold out until their leader returned. Even if it meant their deaths, their mission had to be fulfilled.
The Thunder King and the Purple Robe Evil Venerable clashed, their energies exploding, and the Purple Robe Venerable stumbled back.
The Crimson Rainbow Poison Venerable attacked, hoping to prevent the Thunder King from recovering.
But the Thunder King, instead of retreating, charged forward, his body slamming into the Poison Venerable’s attack.
A blast of energy, like a thunderclap, erupted from his body, and the Poison Venerable, coughing up blood, was thrown backwards. The Thunder King’s reckless, suicidal attack had caught him off guard.
Two more attacks came from the sides.
The Thunder King grabbed a saber with his left hand, his palm crackling with lightning, and with a burst of energy, the saber shattered, its wielder, stunned by the blast, his head ringing, impaled by a flying shard.
The Thunder King’s right palm struck an incoming sword, which, unable to withstand the force, snapped.
Its wielder, horrified, tried to retreat, but the Thunder King’s palm struck his head, crushing his skull, blood and brains splattering.
Covered in blood and gore, he fought like a madman, his fury terrifying, the Poisonous Sunflower Sect members not daring to approach.
The Shen Ting Sect warriors, their spirits lifted, rallied, regrouping and strengthening their defenses.
Shi Hao, once again on higher ground, observed the battle, his face grim.
Despite their heavy losses, the Shen Ting Sect warriors, their resolve unwavering, their desperation fueled by their losses, fought with renewed ferocity.
Although Shi Hao and the Poisonous Sunflower Sect forces were pushing forward, their progress was slow, the enemy’s defenses firm.
And as the cavern narrowed, the Shen Ting Sect warriors, their numbers dwindling, formed a tighter, more cohesive unit.
Their initial advantage in numbers was now useless.
Shi Hao could only continue his relentless assault, hoping to break through.
Time passed slowly, bodies piling up, and finally, they reached the final level.
The fifteenth day of the eighth month, the Mid-Autumn Festival, also known as the Moon Festival.
The hour of the Dog (7-9 pm), dusk.
The white light from above had converged on this final level.
In the center of the cavern was a chasm, filled with swirling demonic energy.
Above the chasm, a white jade platform, supported by pillars that spread outwards like a spider’s legs.
A young man in white lay on the platform, his brow wide, his forehead high, his build muscular.
His bronzed skin, its contours smooth and perfect, as if sculpted, seemed almost… artificial.
The Primordial Yellow Dao Body.
Although called a “Dao Body,” it was actually a demonic body, a vessel of poison.
The I Ching says: “The profound and the yellow are the mingled colors of heaven and earth; heaven is profound, and earth is yellow.”
The I Ching also says: “Dragons battle in the wild, their blood profound and yellow.”
And the Daoist scriptures say: “When thunderclouds gather, yet bring no rain, when the profound and yellow mingle, blood will stain.”
The Primordial Yellow Dao Body, formed from the essence of heaven and earth, refined with countless poisons and herbs, represented the profound mystery of the heavens and the chaotic essence of the earth.
The mountain’s spiritual energy, carried by the electrical currents, flowed towards the Dao Body.
Like a river flowing into the sea, the Dao Body absorbed the energy, its surface crackling with sparks.
A wave of black, bloody mist, accompanied by a sinister, chilling laughter, emerged from the depths of the demonic abyss and flowed into the Dao Body.
Its eyes suddenly opened, flashing with a light like lightning.
Yi Shenzi was returning.
They were running out of time.
“Stop him!” the Purple Robe Evil Venerable roared.
The cavern shook, the entire Wu Gorge trembling, like a wounded beast, its life force draining away.
The Purple Robe Evil Venerable lunged towards the Dao Body, his palm strike carrying a terrifying force.
“Never!” the Thunder King, his body covered in blood and wounds, his eyes bloodshot, roared, intercepting him.
They clashed, their bodies colliding, their energies exploding outwards.
The Purple Robe Evil Venerable was thrown back.
Shi Hao, like a flash of lightning, attacked the Thunder King.
The Thunder King laughed, not dodging or retreating, meeting his attack head-on.
Shi Hao’s sword pierced his chest… His timing had been perfect.
If the Thunder King had dodged, he would still have been injured. And if he hadn’t, he would be dead.
But the Thunder King, his eyes wide, ignoring the sword in his chest, struck out with his palm.
Shi Hao, seeing his counterattack, knew this was bad.
He focused his energy, but a flash of lightning, and he was thrown backwards, coughing up blood.
“Brother Shi!” Du Yuejiao cried out.
She didn’t hesitate. She leaped forward, her sword flashing, moonlight swirling around her.
Seven sword shadows, trailing streaks of light, like comets, struck the Thunder King.
Three pierced his body.
He roared, unleashing a wave of force that shattered the remaining four sword shadows.
The force, like a thunderclap, struck Du Yuejiao, sending her flying backwards, her internal energy disrupted, blood spraying from her lips.
The Purple Robe Evil Venerable, having recovered, struck the Thunder King again with his palm.
The Thunder King stumbled back, his feet dragging across the marble floor, leaving deep gouges.
He had been struck by four swords and a palm strike.
His body was covered in blood and wounds, but he stood firm, his stance unyielding, a solitary figure against a tide of enemies.
The Thunder King, the Sky King, and the other Shen Ting Sect disciples also fought on, their bodies battered and bleeding, their resolve unbroken.
They had already lost too many.
On the levels above, countless comrades lay dead, their faces twisted in agony, victims of the poison miasma.
On the seventh level, the bodies of the four Thunder Generals and their men, mangled and broken.
And on the sixth level, the Lightning King’s remains, scattered among the rubble.
Now, on this final level, they would make their last stand.
They would die here, but their mission, passed down through generations, had to be fulfilled.
“For the sect!” a warrior roared, charging into the enemy ranks, his sword flashing, his body already covered in wounds.
He cut down three before collapsing, his lifeblood staining the ground.
“For the sect!” the others roared, their voices echoing through the cavern.
The earth trembled, the very mountains seeming to weep.
The Purple Robe Evil Venerable, the Crimson Rainbow Poison Venerable, Sha Lingshan, and the others frowned. These Shen Ting Sect warriors were fighting like cornered beasts, their desperation making them even more dangerous.
Little Demonic Mother turned to Du Yuejiao, “Give me the Sui Marquis Pearl!”
Du Yuejiao looked at Shi Hao, who said, his voice low, “Give it to her.”
Du Yuejiao tossed the pearl to Little Demonic Mother, who, with a flicker, using her supernatural ability, appeared on the white jade platform.
She held the pearl, about to touch the Primordial Yellow Dao Body.
“Stop her!” Two martial artists, guarding the platform, both mid-rank experts, their swords drawn, attacked her.
Little Demonic Mother, her movements swift and unpredictable, tried to reach the Dao Body, ignoring their attacks.
But their swords, crackling with electricity, blocked her path.
More warriors arrived, and she, with a frustrated snort, retreated, a flash of light as she used her supernatural ability.
The electrical energy continued to flow towards the Primordial Yellow Dao Body, shadowy figures swirling beneath it.
The Dao Body, lying on the platform, rose into the air.
Its eyes glowed brighter, like lightning.
“Now!” Shi Hao grabbed his sword, leaped into the air, and, using his momentum, plunged downwards, his sword aimed at the enemy below.
His sword flashed, a blur of motion, cutting down three Shen Ting Sect warriors.
His sword pierced the fourth’s chest, but the man, ignoring the wound, his fingers dripping blood as he gripped the blade, struck at him with his own sword.
Shi Hao dropped his sword, flipped backwards, narrowly avoiding the attack, and landed on the hilt of his embedded sword, driving it deeper.
The man, still roaring, lunged at him.
Shi Hao pulled his sword free, blood spraying from the man’s chest, and retreated.
“Aaagh!” The man, his voice a hoarse whisper, took two more steps, his remaining strength fueling a final, desperate attack, his sword aimed at Shi Hao’s head.
Even in death, his body, driven by momentum, continued forward.
Shi Hao, his face impassive, sidestepped the falling corpse and continued his relentless assault.
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