Only the chain shot through the mesh of the net, stabbing straight toward the ghost ape's waist. Prepared well in advance, the ape grabbed the tip of the chain with one hand—its posture identical to catching a snake.
The black-armored leader roared, trying to break free, but how could a net spun by Second Madame Zhu's own hands be so fragile?
The web stretched taut, yet it held against the violent surge. The black-armored leader raised his folding-flick saber and sawed back and forth with all his might, only managing to sever a dozen or so strands.
One had to know that each strand of Second Madame Zhu's web was an aggregate of hundreds of spider silk threads.
From inside his robes, the soul-snatching mirror shrieked, "Watch out, it might vanish on the spot again!"
That ability was practically impossible to guard against, and the black-armored leader was excessively agile. Recalling how close it had come to being decapitated moments ago, the ghost ape felt a chill on its neck and couldn't help letting out a couple of hurried howls.
He Lingchuan judged that the black-armored leader's vanishing technique had a cooldown. His reasoning was that the leader had never blinked consecutively among the Yao troops, always pausing at least ten-odd seconds between uses.
Otherwise, this net would never hold him.
He Lingchuan promptly whistled, intending to call the bat out so he could finish the job himself with a slash. To his surprise, the black-armored leader's movements suddenly froze. His strength deserted him in an instant, and he slumped to the ground—
Seizing the moment, the bat demon puppet had severed his heart vessels with a final bite.
With all his energy drained away in that instant, the black-armored leader was like a gold-armored bronze automaton deprived of profound crystal power, going from full of vitality to unable even to lift his wrist.
Still, the ghost ape held the net tight around him, not daring to let go; the creature was far too dangerous.
Even fighting two against one alongside He Lingchuan, it still felt lingering dread.
He Lingchuan observed that the red light in the black-armored leader's eyes had vanished, black blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he had begun coughing again. Only then did he say to the ghost ape, "Alright, let him sit up."
By this time, Dong Rui appeared from who knew where, hurrying over in tandem with Fu Liushan.
Fu Liushan scrutinized the black-armored leader before him, prudently keeping a distance of ten feet, ready to spring backward at a moment's notice.
This was the Luosheng Armor their people had guarded for generations, and...
The black-armored leader suddenly looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, but the look in them gradually regained clarity.
"He's done for," Dong Rui stated as a matter of fact. "Opening his eyes is just a terminal rally."
Even clad in the Luosheng Armor, the black-armored leader was mortal after all. With his heart vessels severed, he would die just the same.
Fu Liushan asked softly,
"Fu Tianlin, do you still remember this name?"
"I remember," the black-armored leader answered, though the muscles of his face were still stiff.
"I am Fu Tianlin. And I am A'xun."
Memories sealed away for over one hundred and sixty years finally rushed back to him like a tidal wave.
***
Inside the Tiangang Grand Formation, Fu Tianlin and the Ying people were pinning the chieftain down toward the center of the formation.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
Just then, an attendant sprinted over from the distance and called out in urgency, "Young Master, one of the daises can't be activated!"
He had tried every method he knew, but nothing worked.
The thirty-six Tiangang had now become thirty-five, no longer complete. According to the Heavenly Master's records, this would drastically diminish the seal's power.
At that very moment, cracking sounds echoed from the black armor as chunks of solid ice broke and fell off one after another.
True to the Luosheng Armor's reputation, even so many cold ice talismans could only freeze it for a brief time.
Moreover, the talismans were losing effect at an accelerating pace. After just a few breaths, the chieftain could move again, kicking the nearest clansman flying with a sweep of his leg.
Fortunately, his axe had already been taken away; otherwise, several more lives would have been lost right then.
Several burly men hung onto him, weighing over seven hundred jin combined, yet he could still stride toward the nearest dais.
If it destroyed the talismans on a few more daises, this place would not be able to trap it!
As the chieftain advanced, he batted away two more men.
Both flew like kites with snapped strings, coughing up mouthfuls of blood midair, lying motionless long after hitting the ground.
A'xun clung to the chieftain's back, holding on despite being thrown around several times.
Behind him, someone shouted at the top of their lungs, "Kill him, Young Master! Kill him!"
Indeed, the folding-flick saber was right at A'xun's hand. If he only seized the chance to thrust forward and slit his throat, the Ying tribe's greatest trouble right now might be resolved.
But this was his father!
To commit patricide—how could he bring himself to do it?
In that split second of A'xun's hesitation, the chieftain batted away two more people, then drove an elbow straight backward.
His son was clinging to his back, employing the Ying grappling techniques they excelled at, making it hard for the chieftain to break free or grab him.
Normally, this elbow strike wouldn't have landed on A'xun either, as he was very agile.
Who could have guessed that as the chieftain drove his elbow back, a two-foot spike suddenly sprouted from the black armor's elbow, stabbing viciously into A'xun's ribs!
Gasps of horror erupted from the onlookers.
A'xun shuddered violently from the agonizing pain.
Sensing their terror, the chieftain seemed invigorated. He seized another burly Ying man who rushed forward to help A'xun and said coldly, "A'di, you betray me too!"
A'di shouted, "It is you who betrayed our people! It is you who pushed our tribe to a dead end!"
The chieftain gave a cold sneer, grabbed his arm, and tore it clean off.
This man of nearly two hundred jin had robust sinews and bones; severing his arm even with a blade would take some effort. Yet the chieftain ripped him apart as easily as a ragdoll!
A'di screamed in agony.
Before he could cry out twice, the chieftain kicked his leg, snapping the bone on the spot.
Unable to stand, A'di collapsed to the ground.
The chieftain followed with an upward kick, and everyone heard a crisp, bone-chilling snap.
A'di's neck snapped backward. As he fell, the back of his head twisted two hundred and seventy degrees, practically pressed against his spine.
With the chieftain slaughtering everyone in sight with terrifying might, who else dared step forward to court death?
By now, the runes on the ground had swirled into a dark red vortex, on the verge of taking final shape. But the chieftain had already reached the dais, black mist billowing around his fists.
If this punch landed, the thirty-five Tiangang would likely become thirty-four, and no one knew whether the sealing formation would still function.
For an ancient relic from a thousand years ago, being able to activate at all was already a miracle; could anyone really expect it to remain sturdy and potent?
A'xun knew he was out of chances.
It wasn't that the Ying people had run out of chances; it was that he himself had.
He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He still wanted to return to Chigu to see his wife, wanted to wait for his son to be born, wanted to lead his people to a brand-new land of hope...
Seeing that his father could shatter the stone dais with a single punch without needing any weapon, he gritted his teeth, held fast to the black armor, and screamed, "Luosheng Armor! Come onto me! Spare my father!"
Never had he wished so desperately that he truly was a descendant of the Shanjin Empire's imperial house.
If his father was, then so was he.
A younger, stronger, more promising bloodline of the Pang clan! Only then would the evil armor be willing to transfer to him.
The moment the words left his mouth, a buzzing din roared in his ears, as if countless people were weeping, howling, shrieking... Endless negative emotions crashed over him like mountains toppling and seas overturning, threatening to crush him completely.
Yet amid it all, a deep, resonant voice rang clearest, questioning his true heart: "Are you certain?"
The voice even sounded somewhat familiar.
Enduring the excruciating pain in his ribs, A'xun shouted, "Yes!"
The Luosheng Armor's bonding ritual required the new master's blood—and that step had already been fulfilled.
Then, the chieftain's fist slammed onto the dais.
*Bang!* A concussive boom rang out.
Everyone's heart sank. It was over.
Yet the dais did not crack, nor did the runes on the ground dim.
Before striking the dais, the black smoke around the chieftain's fist had already vanished.
Before everyone's eyes, the cold, rigid Luosheng Armor suddenly turned into a silvery-black liquid like mercury, flowing over the chieftain's back and covering A'xun directly.
In merely ten-odd breaths, the Luosheng Armor had taken a new master—or rather, a new host.
The moment the Luosheng Armor left him, the chieftain's once-erect posture swayed twice, and he nearly lost his footing. Pressing one hand against the stone dais, he turned in astonishment, only to see his son completely enveloped in black armor, locking eyes with him, his gaze full of agony.
"A'xun!" His sanity fully restored, the chieftain turned pale with fright and reached out to support him.
Having just experienced it himself, he knew all too well what his son was suffering right now.
The Luosheng Armor's capacity to shatter a person's mind and soul still filled him with dread.
"Don't touch me!" With a wave of A'xun's arm, a blast of astral wind hurled the chieftain more than ten feet away.
Clenching his teeth, A'xun slowly walked toward the center of the talisman vortex.
With every step, his feet felt as heavy as thousands of jin, his mind reeling into darkness—whatever the Luosheng Armor had inflicted on the old chieftain, it was now subjecting him to the exact same torment. Yet A'xun's steps remained exceptionally resolute.
A mere twenty feet felt like a lifetime of walking.
The clansmen dared not approach; they only dared to restrain the chieftain, preventing him from touching his son.
"Leave the Shanjin Plain!" He looked back with great effort for one final glance at his father and clansmen. "Take Mengmeng! Take my child! Go to Julu Port, find a new path forward!"
As those words left his lips, the talisman vortex beneath his feet opened completely. Like someone sinking into a mire, A'xun plunged swiftly downward.
Strangely, when other Ying people stood on the formation, nothing happened to them at all.
A'xun could feel the Luosheng Armor's repulsion and resistance toward the formation.
It commanded him, ordered him to leave this place immediately!
Yet he bit down hard on the tip of his tongue, and clinging to the last shred of lucidity in his mind, slumped down cross-legged on the spot!
He wouldn't leave. He would seal the Luosheng Armor away, never letting it harm his father or torment his people again.
The Ying people had already endured too much suffering on the Shanjin Plain; they could not be poisoned by this evil armor any longer!
Looking at his father, who had aged once more, thousands of words welled up inside him, yet he could not speak a single one.
He gave his clansmen one last smile, and then darkness swallowed his sight.
***
Desolate ruins, towering stone daises, a gloomy night sky, and woods whimpering in the wind.
A'xun felt as though he had slept for an eternity, yet opening his eyes, the sight before him looked hardly different from before he sank beneath the ground.
The Ying clansmen gathered around him were gone, replaced by three strangers.
The three stood in a line, watching him with peculiar expressions.
A'xun traded stares with them for quite a while before one of them asked:
"Fu Tianlin, do you still remember who you are?"
"I am a Ying clansman... a royal descendant of the Shanjin Empire." A'xun's eyes grew clearer as memories resurfaced. Looking down at the bloody, gaping hole in his chest, he felt no resentment, only a trace of bitterness: "How... how long has it been?"
Chapter 1172