Chapter 90: Displaying Might

“His bloodline isn’t potent enough. Capture that crimson dragon and refine it,” said the woman in the scarlet crane robe, her deep green eyes gazing at the flames surging like a tidal wave across the sky. There was not a hint of fear in her expression; instead, she turned to the effeminate man who was gripping Su Bufan’s throat.

“There’s someone atop that crimson dragon,” the man remarked, his eyes profound.

“Kill them,” the woman replied, raising her sleeve lightly. Several strands of white silk shot forth, binding Su Bufan’s body entirely. Each intersection of the white threads landed precisely on the vital acupoints, rendering Su Bufan’s struggles utterly futile.

“As you wish,” the effeminate man smiled faintly. He unfurled the azure dragon-patterned belt in his hand, its central radiant red stone glowing and enveloping him in a crimson light.

The flames that filled the sky seemed to avoid him, parting as they passed.

Meanwhile, the monk who had stood behind the woman in the crane robe stepped forward, palms pressed together. A golden demon-subduing staff in his grasp radiated dazzling light, forming a bell-shaped barrier that encompassed both him and the woman. The flames battered the golden bell, yet it stood unshaken, resonating with waves of sound that dispersed much of the fire.

The Daoist in the blue-white robe, witnessing the fiery sea descend upon him, remained unruffled. He smiled gently and produced a red vessel adorned with crow motifs. Opening it, a massive fire crow burst forth, its scarlet beak agape, swallowing the flames in an instant.

Its enormous body radiated intense heat; when its wings stirred, flames swirled around it, vaporizing the surrounding sea until only smoke remained.

“Put it away. It will disrupt my formation,” the woman in the crane robe said, glancing back at the Daoist.

On the Tear Shark Hill, the blood-etched formation lines began to show signs of drying.

The Daoist cast a kindly glance at the woman, tapped the red crow vessel four times, and the fire crow flew back inside. The sea water rushed in to fill the vacuum left by the crow’s presence.

With the flames vanished, the figure of the crimson dragon reemerged.

“So your first foe is me? You truly lack discernment,” the effeminate man remarked with a faint smile as the crimson dragon swam toward him like a bolt of lightning.

Red lightning crackled and thundered as the dragon approached.

“Do your kind possess nothing beyond true fire and red lightning? If that’s all, how dull,” he sneered.

The effeminate man spread his arms, a trace of ferocity flickering across his gentle face. He intended to tear off the dragon’s horns and then extract its sinews.

His autumn robe billowed, revealing the water-repelling garment beneath.

Lightning struck him before the dragon reached, a raging pool of red bolts roaring across his body, yet he only scoffed.

“Heavenly Lord, aid me!”

Behind him, a hundred-foot tall phantom appeared, crowned with jade, robed in emerald, a blue sash at his waist marked with the cosmos, and holding a crimson banner.

As the banner fluttered, thunder and fire erupted.

The red lightning pool raged, yet the effeminate man seemed to revel in it. His figure shifted, appearing suddenly before the crimson dragon, gripping its crystal-clear horns as it tried to carry Su Bufan away.

“So pure and robust a true fire and red lightning—rare among your kind,” he mused, his eyes gentle but with a cruel glint as he prepared to snap the dragon’s horns.

A pair of cold hands rested upon his.

“The phantom behind you—is it Lord Zhao of the Twenty-four Heavenly Lords of the Thunder Division?” Su Yuanbai lifted his gaze to the specter towering behind the effeminate man, a vague memory stirring within him; he had encountered this figure before.

“You’re right. It is Lord Zhao,” the man replied with a gentle smile. He turned his hands over, gripping Su Yuanbai’s cold hands atop his own, and twisted fiercely outward.

Not a single thread moved.

Seeing this, Ao Ning immediately bit through the threads suspended in midair, seized Su Bufan, and prepared to flee.

“Enough games,” said the Daoist in blue-white robes, glancing at the effeminate man locked fingers with Su Yuanbai. Calmly, he drew a golden rope from his robe.

“Go,” he commanded.

The rope transformed into a streak of gold, instantly binding Ao Ning and slamming her onto Tear Shark Hill.

“Run!” Ao Ning bit through all the threads wrapped around Su Bufan and spat him out forcefully.

“Who let you out of the Hall of Fire Punishment?!”

But Su Bufan did not flee. Instead, he swam to Ao Ning’s side, pulling at the golden rope with all his strength. The tighter he pulled, the more the rope constricted.

“Try shrinking yourself!” Su Bufan urged anxiously.

Ao Ning shrank, but the rope shrank with her.

“Try growing—see if it loosens!” Su Bufan glanced nervously at the monk and the woman in the crane robe approaching across Tear Shark Hill.

Ao Ning expanded, but the golden rope only bit deeper into her dragon body, carving bloody grooves, without so much as a mark on the rope itself.

“Why do you insist on helping me? I told you I don’t need your help,” Su Bufan sighed, embracing Ao Ning helplessly.

“You said even a day as husband and wife earns a hundred days of grace—how could I turn away? And if I know you’ve lost your way, if even I don’t care for you, then who will?” Ao Ning, now the same size as Su Bufan, rested her head gently on his shoulder.

“I’m not worth it,” Su Bufan whispered.

“I regret nothing,” Ao Ning replied, her dragon horn caressing Su Bufan’s cheek.

“Kill them,” the woman in the crane robe halted, her deep green eyes cold as she watched Su Bufan and Ao Ning embrace. She addressed the monk at her side.

“I must take up arms again,” the monk said, bowing first to the west, then raising his demon-subduing staff and swinging it heavily at the heads of Su Bufan and Ao Ning—embracing as they were, it made his task easier.

“Is it truly appropriate for you two to be embracing at a time like this?” Su Yuanbai tilted his head, a strange expression on his face as he looked at Ao Ning and Su Bufan.

The monk watched as Su Yuanbai caught his staff bare-handed, then looked up at the effeminate man standing in the water, his arms twisted and his face vacant.

On the monk’s staff, three Buddha statues were carved at its midpoint. One, with a scolding expression, suddenly emitted golden light, and the triple-pronged staff blazed with gold.

A golden Buddha hand descended from the tip of the staff.