Mr. Kongfang did not know whether he was still on the deck, nor did he know the true background of the opponent before him.
How had such a ruthless figure ended up on this ship?
Was she truly the Yin Actress? If so, why hadn't she shown her hand during the clash with Li Seven last time?
The surrounding water mist grew thicker and thicker until he could not even make out his own fingers held right before his eyes. Mr. Kongfang knew full well that he could no longer rely on his vision. By the time his eyes caught sight of the enemy, his life would already be all but forfeit.
Yet if he could not depend on his sight, what else was left?
His nose?
The moisture in the air was overwhelming. The damp vapor filled his nose and mouth, rendering his sense of smell utterly useless.
His ears?
His hearing was saturated with an illusory operatic aria. Listening to a single line more left him dizzy and faint; his hearing was equally unreliable.
Such a predicament was no different from being deaf and blind. Anyone else in his shoes would have abandoned ship as quickly as possible, swimming away with everything they had just to put distance between themselves and this place.
Yet Mr. Kongfang truly possessed the nerve to keep maneuvering.
He released half of his copper coins, sending them dancing through the air around the vessel. Amid their clinking and clattering collisions, Mr. Kongfang sensed his exact position and surroundings.
He was still on the deck, five paces from the cabins, with no one else nearby.
The remaining half of the copper coins swirled tightly around his body, leaving not the slightest gap to guard against a sneak attack.
With his scouting and defenses in order, Mr. Kongfang called out, "May I ask, miss, is your family name Huang?"
The operatic singing did not pause, but a ripple of laughter wove into the verse.
"Heh-heh. First tell me, what is your surname?"
Mr. Kongfang cupped his hands. "My surname is Kong, and I temporarily occupy the second seat of Xuehuapu."
The laughter from the other side grew louder. "If you're going to talk like that, there's no need to ask me. Just make up a surname for me instead."
"What does the lady mean by that?"
"You claim your surname is Kong—a blatant fabrication. Do you really expect me to give you an honest answer?"
The gongs and drums quickened their tempo. Mr. Kongfang felt a surge of irritation, and the circulation of his copper coins grew slightly sluggish.
A jet of water mist surged forward, shooting straight for Mr. Kongfang's left eye.
If that mist struck, he would lose the eye for good.
Fortunately, Mr. Kongfang reacted with lightning speed, tossing out two copper coins stacked together to shield his left eye.
"*Wei-ya—!*" A melodic wail drifted through the mist. The two copper coins clattered against each other, trembling violently.
Mr. Kongfang wanted to recall the coins, but feared the scalding mist would sear his eye. He tried to steady them, yet their vibration only intensified, refusing to be quelled.
*Clink!*
A crisp crack rang out! The two copper coins shattered.
Mr. Kongfang dodged the incoming mist, but failed to evade the copper shards, leaving his left eye a bloody mess.
Wiping away the blood, Mr. Kongfang maintained an indifferent tone. "If the lady refuses to speak the truth, allow me to venture a guess. Your surname is Huang, your surname is Yin, and your surname is Long."
A chilling laugh rose once more, intercut with operatic recitation: "Giving me three surnames at once—are you trying to curse me?"
"Miss, if I guessed correctly, you ought to admit it. There is much I still wish to ask you regarding that bitter battle back then."
"What kind of creature do you think you are? What gives you the right to question me? Did you ever clear up that insult you just threw at me?"
The mist billowed, darting back and forth through the gaps between the copper coins. A single droplet passed cleanly through a square coin hole, searing straight through his clothes, burning away flesh, and scalding directly against Mr. Kongfang's bone. It burned into the bone and bored toward the marrow.
Mr. Kongfang showed not the slightest trace of fear, pressing on with his questions: "After the battle of the Suihuang Plains, did the lady live or die, and where did you go?"
"How unyielding. Don't you know pain?" The mist spread wide, continuing to hunt for gaps between the copper coins.
It wasn't that Mr. Kongfang couldn't feel pain, nor was he ignorant of how perilous his situation had become.
The only reason he kept talking was to pinpoint the enemy's location.
He had only two paths before him. One was flight—leap into the sea this very instant and abandon the vessel.
Yet if he fled now, control of the Underground City would likely change hands.
If he did not flee, he had to fight. And before fighting, he needed to know who his opponent was, what she looked like, and where she stood.
Another droplet passed through the seam of his coins, burrowing directly into Mr. Kongfang's marrow.
While Mr. Kongfang appeared to be taking a beating for nothing, he had hardly been idle. Over a thousand copper coins had slipped through the thick mist and entered the cabins.
Passing down the corridor, hundreds of coins hit walls and dropped to the floor, suppressed by the heavy moisture until they could no longer take flight.
Yet these coins had not been sacrificed in vain. It was precisely through their collisions and probing that they mapped out paths for the others.
The main hall on the first floor was checked—empty.
The dining room, kitchen, tearoom, study, and cinema on the second floor were all inspected—not a soul.
The third-floor bedrooms were searched one by one—still no sign of anyone!
With every area explored, large clusters of copper coins fell, pressed to the floorboards by the moisture.
Only several dozen coins remained. Mr. Kongfang sent them downward into the lower hold.
A few dark figures were detected below deck, but they were creations of Li Seven. Since his current opponent was not Li Seven, and his coins were limited, he ignored them for the moment.
Upon reaching the engine room, a copper coin sensed a woman standing beside the machinery, seemingly repairing a valve on the engine.
*Is it her?*
The coin darted swiftly toward her, only to perceive that the woman did not move. She merely stood by the valve, with not a breath of life emanating from her frame.
It was a puppet!
With so few coins left after penetrating this far, Mr. Kongfang naturally had none to waste on a puppet.
Boring through the engine room into the boiler room, and finally looping out of the cargo hold, the scouting coins were exhausted. Only a single coin made it back to Mr. Kongfang's hand, yet he still had no idea where his opponent was.
That single coin served an important purpose. Mr. Kongfang brought it to his ear.
The coin had recorded every sound heard along its path and played them back to him one by one.
His persistent chatter earlier had been intended to judge the opponent's position by the distance and pitch of the voice.
He had never imagined her Sound Cultivator techniques would be so exquisite. Listening from start to finish, the coin recorded the exact same volume and tone regardless of where it traveled.
There was no way to fight this battle, because he couldn't even reach his target.
Not only could he not land a blow, but his defenses were also on the verge of collapsing.
The copper coins scattered across the floor suddenly took flight.
Mr. Kongfang had not commanded them to rise; they were soaring to the rhythm of the operatic melody.
*Clack-clack... clack-clack...*
The clatter of the copper coins aligned perfectly with the beat of the gongs and clappers, closing in on Mr. Kongfang step by step.
The lyrics of the aria shifted as well:
*"I'll carve out your thigh bones to hang as lanterns,*
*Pull out your sinews to string a bow,*
*Gouge out your eyeballs to shake as bells,*
*And pry off your skullcap to drink my wine!"*
The singing grew ever more sinister, and the clattering of the coins became violent.
Mr. Kongfang tried to seize back control of the coins, when sudden roars erupted from within the verse. The clatter of gongs and drums abruptly intensified, and copper coins converged from all directions, slamming into the coins surrounding Mr. Kongfang's body.
Amid a chorus of shattering cracks, the coins broke to pieces one after another.
Stripped of their protection, water mist seeped through his flesh, boring into his marrow and internal organs.
Mr. Kongfang still held his ground, wresting back control over a portion of the coins near him.
*Whoosh!*
A gust of smoke swept forward, choking Mr. Kongfang's mouth and nose. His breath faltered and his technique broke. The coins about his body detonated completely, leaving only the coins hanging from his bamboo hat intact.
That smoke offered Mr. Kongfang a faint clue. Tearing a string of copper coins from his hat, he hurled it toward the cabin.
Like a swimming dragon tracing the smoke back to its origin, the string of coins plunged into the main hall.
A vinyl record came flying out, slicing straight into the string of coins.
The record vibrated continuously; every word and syllable of the aria seemed to issue from this very disc. The coin string struggled for a mere moment before the cord binding it was severed by the record, sending the coins scattering across the floor once more.
That string of coins had been Mr. Kongfang's killing move. He had never expected it to be defused so easily.
Worst of all, the record moved too fast for the coins to perceive in time. Mr. Kongfang had no idea what kind of object had severed his string.
Just as Mr. Kongfang moved to tear another string from his hat, he vaguely sensed several figures closing in on him.
Li Seven was coming. He was about to strike.
Mr. Kongfang held out for a brief moment, then leaped abruptly into the sea.
Only after swimming over a li away did Mr. Kongfang dare look back.
The dense mist on the vessel had already dispersed, but the mournful singing had not ended.
It was her.
The Yin Actress, Huang Yuxian.
Accompanied by smoke and fire, capable of boiling water, proficient in song—she had returned to life.
How had she been revived? Was her cultivation completely restored?
Mr. Kongfang rubbed his head, unable to shake the sound of the opera from his ears.
He knew very well that the sound was no longer coming from the ship; it was echoing inside his own skull.
Two streams of fresh blood trickled down from his ears. Having been struck by Huang Yuxian's technique, even someone of his caliber could not hope to make a full recovery within half a month.
Mr. Kongfang tore another string of copper coins from his bamboo hat. The coins transformed into a swimming dragon, dragging him down as he vanished into the sea.
***
On the deck, Banfeng C and Banfeng D were tidying up the battlefield. The gramophone had instructed that she wanted every copper coin on the deck; not a single one was to be left behind.
Banfeng E seized the opportunity to fawn over the gramophone: "Madam, you aren't hurt, are you? That gambit was far too dangerous. You mustn't do that again next time—I was terrified for you!"
The move the gramophone had pulled was indeed risky. She had been standing right inside the first-floor hall of the cabin, the very first place Mr. Kongfang searched after sending out his coins.
Yet the coins had failed to recognize her. The first-floor hall was originally meant for entertaining guests and hosting dances; finding a gramophone there was entirely ordinary. Far from a few copper coins, even had Mr. Kongfang stepped inside in person, he might never have suspected the machine.
The gramophone moved onto the deck, her horn turned toward the Boundary.
Banfeng C and Banfeng D hurried over with words of comfort.
"Madam, Master Jia will definitely return. You don't need to worry."
"Madam, even if Master Jia doesn't return, don't you still have us?"
A flock of shadows clustered around the gramophone, currying favor. Only Banfeng B leaned against the railing, enjoying the sea breeze, looking down on the gramophone with contempt and viewing the other shadows with utter disdain.
Just look at these shadows: lacking in combat strength, short on techniques, none too sharp in the head, yet pouring every ounce of their wit into romantic trifles. What great endeavor could a bunch of ambitionless fools ever accomplish?
The gramophone instructed the gathering of shadows: "My frame is not at its best, and this battle took a heavy toll. Over the next few days, you must remain vigilant to prevent any mishaps."
This was the plain truth. Throughout her clash with Mr. Kongfang, the gramophone had held the upper hand, but maintaining such a tactic required continuous use of her techniques, draining an immense amount of energy. She naturally needed time to recover.
She took out a telephone and dialed Xiao Yeci. "Miss Xiao, please pass another message to Old Tan. Have him find a way to stall Bai Miaosheng and keep him from ruining things."
***
Tan Jinxiao had cursed at the pier for five straight days, yet Bai Miaosheng had refused to set foot off his ship.
By the sixth day, Bai Miaosheng was finally preparing to disembark.
He had awaited the arrival of a helper—an above-the-clouds cultivator named Zhang Mankeng.
When Lan Qiao first heard the name, she had assumed it belonged to a burly brute, but the person who arrived was a delicate, pretty woman.
Neither Lan Qiao nor Hong Jiao could fathom why such an exquisite woman would be named Zhang Mankeng—Zhang "Pothole."
While Zhang Mankeng was absorbed in tactical contemplation, Bai Miaosheng whispered to Lan Qiao, "Take a guess: what pathway does she follow?"
Lan Qiao eyed Zhang Mankeng's figure. "Broad shoulders, generous bust, a narrow waist, and hips like ripe peaches. With a physique like that, she must be a Dance Cultivator, right?"
Bai Miaosheng shook his head. "You guessed wrong. Her pathway is..."
Zhang Mankeng suddenly raised her head. "What's there to guess? Won't you find out once the fighting starts?"
Bai Miaosheng chuckled. "We were just chatting. Don't take it to heart."
Standing beside the porthole, Zhang Mankeng drew the scimitar from her waist and rubbed it twice. "When does he usually show up?"
Seeing how she held the blade, Hong Jiao guessed she was a Martial Cultivator.
Bai Miaosheng glanced at his watch. "He usually starts cursing around five in the evening and leaves at seven. It's past three now, so he should be here in a little over an hour."
Zhang Mankeng nodded. "Old Bai, let's coordinate our approach. If the two of us rush in together, the fight will turn messy.
"That scoundrel thrives on fighting against odds. The more he fights, the more human qi he gathers, and every bit of human qi boosts his battle prowess. If the two of us get bogged down in an extended tangle and fail to put him down quickly, we might end up suffering at his hands."
Bai Miaosheng chuckled. "With the two of us joining forces, how could we possibly suffer? Mankeng, aren't you being overly cautious?"
Zhang Mankeng took Tan Jinxiao very seriously. "You can't blame me for being cautious. Anyone who has opened three gates is no simple character."
Bai Miaosheng stopped arguing. "Tell me, how do you want to play it?"
Zhang Mankeng said, "As long as you trust me, there's a better way. The moment he shows his face today, go down and engage him directly. Strike before the crowd gathers.
"You don't need to gain a massive advantage—just don't push his companions to intervene early, and don't fall too far behind either, so he can't build up momentum. The instant you two are locked in a stalemate, I will take his life in one strike. Once Tan Jinxiao is dead, his little group will be nothing more than lambs to the slaughter."
Bai Miaosheng hesitated for a moment, looking at Zhang Mankeng. "It's not that I don't trust you, but if we reach a critical stalemate and you fail to strike, I'll be in serious danger."
Zhang Mankeng smiled faintly. "Counting back through all these years, among everyone around you, who has ever treated you with the single-minded devotion I have?"
Bai Miaosheng sighed. "I only worry that you still hold a grudge over what happened back then."
Zhang Mankeng frowned. "If I held a grudge, would I have come to find you?"
Bai Miaosheng nodded. "Fine. I'll trust you this once."
At half past five, Tan Jinxiao arrived at the pier.
He was half an hour late today. In truth, he didn't even need to show up. His presence on Yuxiang Island, challenging Bai Miaosheng, had been meant purely to tie him down so he wouldn't interfere with the grand affair.
Did Bai Miaosheng have the strength to disrupt the grand affair?
He truly did.
Tan Jinxiao knew very well that Bai Miaosheng's designs on the entire Underground City were no mere whim. He had backing, knew more than one cultivator above the clouds, and some were genuinely willing to lend him their strength.
Xiao Yeci had received word from the gramophone yesterday that the grand task was accomplished and the goods secured. Tan Jinxiao could have already considered pulling back.
Yet seeing Bai Miaosheng lingering at the port without leaving, Tan Jinxiao took a liking to the prospect of finishing him. He had Xiao Yeci relay a message to the gramophone: he wanted to make Bai Miaosheng stay here permanently.
The gramophone thought it a sound idea, which was why she told him to arrive half an hour late today.
Standing on the pier, Tan Jinxiao saw that the crowd of spectators had not yet swollen. He cleared his throat, preparing to launch into his insults.
Bai Miaosheng leaped from the ship onto the pier without a word. Pulling out a handful of wheat ears, he whipped them straight at Tan Jinxiao's face.
The wheat grains flew like bullets toward Tan Jinxiao, who spat a mouthful of thick phlegm, blocking them all. "Good lad, you actually dared to show yourself!"
The wheat grains landed along with the phlegm, sprouting rapidly in the viscous fluid until a patch of wheat grew up, snaring Tan Jinxiao's feet.
Bai Miaosheng seized the opening to close the distance. A stalk of sugarcane sprouted from his palm—a peculiar variety with a sharpened tip, thrusting straight toward Tan Jinxiao's chest.
Against an ordinary weapon, Tan Jinxiao could have powered through on his above-the-clouds physique, but he could not afford to take this sugarcane head-on. It was a weapon Bai Miaosheng had painstakingly cultivated; not only was it razor-sharp and unyielding, but it could also home in on vitals, targeting spots that were difficult to defend.
Unable to parry or dodge, Tan Jinxiao did not panic; instead, he grinned.
At his grin, Bai Miaosheng grinned as well. His grip loosened, and Tan Jinxiao clamped a hand onto the sugarcane.
"Give that here!" Tan Jinxiao spat a wad of phlegm onto Bai Miaosheng's hand. Bai Miaosheng's grip slipped, and Tan Jinxiao wrenched the sugarcane away.
Wielding the sugarcane, Tan Jinxiao smashed it over Bai Miaosheng's head. A cauliflower sprouted on Bai Miaosheng's scalp, cushioning the blow, but blood still streamed down his brow.
"Gotta admit, that flower looks right pretty on you!" Tan Jinxiao moved to press the attack, but his legs remained tangled in wheat, rooting him to the spot.
Bai Miaosheng tossed out a handful of peas. They germinated and sprouted instantly, their vines winding tight around Tan Jinxiao's entire body.
It was done!
All that remained was for Zhang Mankeng to deliver the fatal blow.
Zhang Mankeng leaped down from the passenger ship and activated her technique. The ground beneath Bai Miaosheng softened, and he sank straight into a pit.
Hong Jiao gasped in surprise, "So she's a Mud Cultivator! No wonder she's called Zhang Mankeng!"
Lan Qiao cried out in horror, "Forget about that—why did she use her technique on Master Miao?!"
Bai Miaosheng stared blankly at Zhang Mankeng, completely unable to comprehend her move.
Zhang Mankeng herself was equally baffled by her own action. The instant she struck, two distinct surges of resentment had crashed into her mind at once, dragging up unpleasant memories between her and Bai Miaosheng, compelling her to strike at him without thinking.
There were mind cultivators nearby—and more than one!
A single thread of resentment could never have shaken Zhang Mankeng, and even two arriving one after the other would have been well within her ability to resist.
Yet these two mind cultivators possessed staggering coordination, striking at the exact same fraction of a second.
As Zhang Mankeng searched for traces of the mind cultivators, Bai Miaosheng yelled, "Get me out first!"
Beneath the mud pit, silt churned, shoving Bai Miaosheng back to the surface.
A sheen of night soil surfaced over the ground. Over-fertilized, the wheat and pea vines withered and burned out, allowing Tan Jinxiao to tear free of their entanglements.
Unable to locate the two mind cultivators, Zhang Mankeng simply unleashed her ultimate technique: "Boundless Quagmire!"
A vast swath of the surrounding area turned into a muddy swamp. Freshly freed, both Tan Jinxiao and Bai Miaosheng sank into the mire.
A lotus flower blossomed beneath Bai Miaosheng's feet, its petals carrying him up from the sludge.
Plucking the seedpod from the center of the lotus, he leveled it at Tan Jinxiao. The lotus seeds nestled inside were more than potent enough to claim Tan Jinxiao's life.
Standing atop the mud, Zhang Mankeng waved her hand. Surges of silt churned between the waves, trapping Tan Jinxiao fast.
Though bogged down in the mud, Tan Jinxiao managed to counter, unleashing a technique: Gold Flooding the Golden Mountain.
A mountain of gold rose swiftly from the mire, ensnaring Zhang Mankeng and scorching the lotus beneath Bai Miaosheng's feet to cinders.
With the petals withered, Bai Miaosheng sank into the golden mountain as well, unable to resist cursing, "How does he have so many disgusting moves?!"
Zhang Mankeng gritted her teeth. "What did I tell you? He's opened three gates—he has techniques for days!"
Bai Miaosheng recalled a vital weakness: "Gold Cultivators must carry a bucket. Where's his bucket?!"
That reminder spurred Zhang Mankeng into action. Employing a Mud Cultivator technique, Mud Dragon Leaving Its Burrow, a swimming serpent took shape in the silt, coiling around Tan Jinxiao's body as it hunted everywhere for the bucket.
Did Tan Jinxiao truly have a bucket?
He did.
Every Gold Cultivator had to carry a bucket; there was no skirting that requirement. However, Tan Jinxiao's bucket had been modified by an artisan cultivator expert into a fist-sized porcelain bottle, typically hidden inside his sleeve where ordinary people would never detect it.
Now, with the serpent coiling around him, it was on the verge of finding the porcelain bottle.
Trapped in the mire, Tan Jinxiao struggled fiercely against the mud serpent.
An even more dire situation developed: Lan Qiao and Hong Jiao led the Horse-Toppling Battalion off the ship.
Were they unafraid of the mire and the golden mountain?
They truly weren't. They were scorpions, crawling on multiple legs, resting flat across the silt without sinking.
Lan Qiao skittered up to Tan Jinxiao, raising her sting with a savage grin. "You repulsive wretches—let's see how long your arrogance lasts!"
"It'll last until the day you die!" Xiao Yeci called out. "If you're human, stand on your feet!"
A Literary Cultivator technique: Common Script, Shared Rule!
Variant Physical Cultivators were originally human, and Transformative Physical Cultivators considered themselves human.
The concept was rooted deep within them, and every member of the Horse-Toppling Battalion stood upright on two legs.
Although the technique lasted only a few seconds, Zhang Mankeng's quagmire was no ordinary mud. In those few seconds, the entire battalion sank into the mire.
Xiao Yeci drew her fountain pen and flicked a spray of ink. The ink transformed into written characters, launching an indiscriminate barrage.
The characters paid no heed to the mud, striking whoever was in reach. At Xiao Yeci's level of strength, she naturally could not harm the three above-the-clouds figures, but the Horse-Toppling Battalion suffered. Hong Jiao and several scorpions under her command were wounded.
Xiaoshan summoned three ghost servants, who charged into the quagmire to clash with the Horse-Toppling Battalion.
Juanzi deployed her mental arts with everything she had, doing her utmost to disrupt the battalion's maneuvers.
The battlefield descended into total chaos. Zhang Mankeng supported her feet on the silt and wrestled herself free of the golden mountain.
Seeing the situation turn sour, Tan Jinxiao unleashed Cascading Golden Radiance toward Zhang Mankeng. A golden waterfall swept forward, only to be blocked firmly by Zhang Mankeng's wall of mud and sand.
"It's messy—this battle is too chaotic!" Zhang Mankeng realized something was amiss. "Two mind cultivators keep stirring up trouble. They always strike at the exact same moment, making them impossible to guard against or deflect. We have to root them out and kill them!"
Bai Miaosheng also recognized how disorderly the fight had become. He tossed out a handful of seeds. Outside the golden mountain, a grapevine sprouted atop the silt, its tendrils dragging Bai Miaosheng free.
No matter how many tricks Tan Jinxiao possessed, he was ultimately facing a two-on-one fight. Bai Miaosheng and Zhang Mankeng were his equals in cultivation; as long as the two maintained clear heads, they would certainly find a way to subdue him.
Yet their minds had been persistently clouded, leading them to choose suboptimal responses at every turn.
Not only were their minds muddled, but the Horse-Toppling Battalion was in disarray as well. In ordinary combat, they relied on streamlined tactics and seamless coordination, but the two mind cultivators had reduced their strategy to shambles.
"Those two mind cultivators aren't far—they're right on the battlefield! They're trapped in the quagmire too!" Zhang Mankeng caught their presence. "They aren't drawing much attention, but I think I've found them."
Tan Jinxiao knew the situation was critical. He hurled out technique after technique—Sparkling Gold, Golden Dragon Descends, Phlegm Upon the Brow, Hidden Daggers Behind a Smile...
No matter what he used, Zhang Mankeng and Bai Miaosheng parried each blow without rushing to counterattack. Before dealing with Tan Jinxiao, they had to eliminate those two mind cultivators first.
The Liangwucai sisters were nervous as well; they were indeed the two mind cultivators in question.
Zhang Mankeng was right: they were stuck in the quagmire, having remained undetected up to this point only thanks to Tan Jinxiao's Golden Thread Jade Garment.
Once discovered, given the direct combat capability of mind cultivators, the pair wouldn't survive a single exchange.
Now, Zhang Mankeng had pinpointed them. She kicked up a wave of mud, its towering shadow looming over the sisters.
Xiao Yeci desperately marshaled her written characters, but against Zhang Mankeng, her technique was like scratching an itch through a boot—unable to harm her in the slightest!
Zhang Mankeng glanced at Xiao Yeci and smiled. "Little girl, don't rush. You're next. You'll drown in this filthy mud, and that pretty little face will be eaten clean by maggots!"
With that, Zhang Mankeng turned toward the Liangwucai sisters' location. "You two wenches, go on ahead!
"Old Bai, keep your eyes on Tan Jinxiao and don't let him interfere. Once I finish off these wenches, we'll take our time dealing with Old Tan.
"Old Bai, did you hear me? Can't you even answer?"
Zhang Mankeng looked back toward Bai Miaosheng.
Bai Miaosheng was staring silently at Tan Jinxiao, not uttering a word.
He had not needed Zhang Mankeng's reminder; his attention had remained fixed on Old Tan the entire time, and Tan Jinxiao had been continually casting techniques against him.
Yet what Bai Miaosheng had failed to notice earlier was that a crane was perched upon his head—a pure white crane.
Bai Miaosheng noticed it now, but it was already too late.
The crane stood on a single leg, and that leg had already plunged straight into Bai Miaosheng's skull.
Tan Jinxiao burst into laughter. "Bai Miaosheng, you really are staying right here! Zhang Mankeng, stop holding out and surrender already! With those blockheads of yours, what kind of nonsense did you expect to fight our general with?!"
Chapter 658