"In your shadow!" the young attendant screamed.
He saw it with chilling clarity: standing right inside the guard's shadow were two small monkeys—or rather, ape-like creatures.
Hearing him, one spun its head around and bared its teeth at the youth in a grin.
Only then did everyone see that the creature's face resembled a ghost's. Its triangular eyes were almost entirely white, with pupils no larger than grains of rice. It had an eagle-beak hooked nose and skin covered in wrinkles, yet its mouth stretched all the way behind its ears, revealing a row of gleaming, steel-like teeth.
Thick blood still clung to those fangs.
Caught in the act, they showed not the slightest panic. One lunged onto the guard and opened its maw wide, clamping straight over his entire head, while the other seized the guard's shadow and dragged him away in a flash!
Their mouths looked huge enough shut, but stretched open, they were impossibly vast. The folds on their cheeks pulled taut, allowing an entire watermelon—or a human head—to fit inside with ease.
No wonder the previous victims had failed to cry out for help: even their voices had been swallowed whole.
As for dragging a shadow and taking its owner along with it, none of them had ever witnessed such a trick. Zhang Lianhai vaguely recalled hearing of a similar divine art.
Yet that was a profound method wielded only by gods or immortals. How could a ghost-faced monkey in this wretched place use it as well?
A dreadful premonition gripped him to the core.
Having basked in divine grace on Mount Xu for years, the lamp spirit was not about to idle by and watch the guard get dragged off. Swooping down, it shifted into a fierce tiger and tore the ghost-faced monkey away, savaging it with frantic bites.
Tragically, the guard whose head had been engulfed had the flesh of his face peeled outward, and blood hissed from four gaping holes in his neck—his carotid artery had been severed.
His comrade rushed forward, tapping acupoints to stem the bleeding and save his life.
Meanwhile, the other ghost-faced monkey leapt onto a roof and began whooping loudly.
The biting wind carried its shrieks far into the distance.
Zhang Lianhai pointed at it. "Silence!"
He cast two divine arts in rapid succession. One was blown off course by the fierce gale, but the other struck the ghost-faced monkey squarely in the chest, knocking it into a backward flip.
Yet it was too late. Several monstrous roars echoed from nearby in quick succession, answering the ghost-faced monkey's call.
Taking a deep breath, Zhang Lianhai made a snap decision. "Go! Move, quickly!"
Now that they were exposed, they might as well head straight for their objective.
Forming an incantation seal, he sent one lamp spirit whirling back to guard their rear. Being devoid of emotion, the entity felt neither fear nor awe no matter how many foes it faced.
The squad broke into a sprint. The other lamp spirit flew ahead, illuminating their path and clearing away the obstruction of the driving snow.
The farther west they went, the stronger the wind grew, already nearing gale force and threatening to slow their stride.
A single monster was nothing to fear; they could manage that. But once the beasts gathered in swarms, no one dared hope for good fortune.
Their only way out was to seize the window while the lamp spirit tied down the monsters and dash straight to General Red's cenotaph!
Glancing back in haste, the young attendant saw dozens of monsters indeed surging out from behind them, with the lamp spirit darting and weaving among them in a desperate attempt to stall their advance.
The creatures were none too clever, their attention wholly drawn by the lamp spirit, forgetting to pursue the Heavenly Palace party.
At this sight, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Capitalizing on the time bought by the lamp spirit, the squad advanced at top speed, slipping past several more monster ambushes by the skin of their teeth.
Yet Panlong City was vast, and the Heavenly Palace squad was unfamiliar with its labyrinth of crossroads, squandering precious moments. Though Zhang Lianhai dispatched all his lamp spirits into the fray, his loyal guards continued to fall one by one.
Fortunately, General Red's cenotaph was nearly within reach.
Zhang Lianhai took two more strides when suddenly, with a muffled cough, he sprayed a mouthful of blood.
The others blanched in horror.
They had just broken through the encirclement, and Zhang Lianhai had taken no wounds. Why was he spitting blood?
"My lamp spirit!" Zhang Lianhai gasped in disbelief. "My lamp spirit has been destroyed!"
As a lamp warden, all his life's effort and divine arts were bound to his lamp spirits, inseparable from his very soul. The destruction of one dealt a devastating blow to him both physically and mentally.
To shatter a lamp spirit of the Heavenly Palace—what monster possessed such power?
Worst of all, that creature would surely track them down.
Catching him by the arm, the young attendant cried, "My lord!"
"Quick... to the ce-cenotaph..." Zhang Lianhai's face was as pale as gilded paper, his words disjointed as he strained to point toward the east.
There was no time for words now. Only reaching that place offered a sliver of hope.
Almost there! Less than forty zhang to General Red's cenotaph!
The young attendant hoisted him onto his back and burst into a full sprint.
Suddenly, a deafening roar rose behind them, sending an instantaneous tremor of paralysis through the sprinting Heavenly Palace troops. Zhang Lianhai's heart plummeted.
It was here.
Everyone looked back, yet saw nothing—only the dancing snow around them halted for a breath, condensing in the blink of an eye into over a dozen snow beasts resembling leopards and wolves. Swift and bloodthirsty, they pounced straight toward them.
The remaining guards hurled themselves forward recklessly to fend them off, barely clearing a path of survival for the young attendant.
Two splashes of hot blood struck the boy's face, stinging his eyes into a squint.
Fifteen zhang left, the gale shoving them back.
A sharp, brief cry of agony rose behind him, very close, before being swallowed by the blizzard. The youth knew the last two guards were gone as well.
Yet he finally reached General Red's cenotaph!
Years ago, when General Red fell in battle, Zhong Shengguang had slit his own throat less than half a day later, and Panlong City fell. Thus, the one who buried this generation's god of war was not the people of Panlong City, but their mortal enemies.
Out of respect for their old foe, the allied armies of Baling and Xianyou had erected a cenotaph for it. It covered less than half a mu, flanked by stone statues taken from finished works within Panlong City. The stele, however, was quite grand, standing one zhang tall and inscribed with five simple characters:
Tomb of General Red.
The red lacquer had flaked away long ago, leaving the characters blurred and faint. But right then, two more wisps of eerie light drifted over and, before the attendant's eyes, sank into General Red's tomb.
Zhang Lianhai slipped down to the ground, strained to raise his long staff, and struck hard against the burial mound.
Mustering the last dregs of his strength, he sent his true energy blasting down through the earth, detonating the stone slabs over the tomb in an instant.
Soil and rubble flew, exposing the burial chamber below!
Sitting amidst the sand was a suit of pale-red armor, remarkably unrusted despite more than a century of erosion. Yet it was scarred all over and pierced through in several places, some bearing clear scorch marks from lightning strikes.
Had Zhang Lianhai been in a calm frame of mind, he might have found it strange that General Red's armor sat upright. When Panlong City's enemies buried an empty suit of armor, they surely would not have gone to the trouble of posing it like that—especially with the helmet resting properly atop the cuirass.
Seen from behind, it looked as though General Red itself sat there with bowed head and folded arms.
Yet how could Zhang Lianhai have the mind for such thoughts right now? His eyes were fixed entirely on what the armor cradled between its forearms:
A lidless pot no larger than a palm.
It was a two-eared pot, bronze in color, made of unknown material.
The two handles held dragon-shaped ring loops, and cryptic runes were carved into the body.
Beyond that, there were no extraneous embellishments; it was remarkably plain.
Yet as a learned lamp warden, Zhang Lianhai recognized at a glance that the runes on the pot were written in two scripts:
The divine language.
And the ancient immortal language.
Both conveyed the exact same meaning:
"Connecting heaven and earth, penetrating the void and blending reality."
Another wisp of eerie light drifted over and, before Zhang Lianhai's eyes, slipped into the pot's mouth.
This was the supreme treasure coveted by the gods.
This was the divine relic stained with the blood of countless lives.
This was the source of so much bloodshed and turmoil—the true form of the Dafang Pot?
Forgetting the agony wracking his body, Zhang Lianhai lunged forward.
Every upheaval within the Panlong Ruins stemmed from the Dafang Pot. If he could only seize it, perhaps he could end all this madness!
Yet when he was less than seven feet away from the pot, a massive shadow suddenly fell over him, swallowing him whole.
***
Meanwhile, at the South Gate of the Panlong Ruins.
Several more packs of beasts trotted past. The men atop the walls held their breath like cicadas in winter, daring to exhale only after the creatures had drifted far away.
Minutes and seconds ticked by in agonizing slowness.
After an unknown stretch of time, new visitors arrived below the South Gate:
Yuezheng Qing led four or five men as they arrived, looking just as disheveled and barely recovered from shock.
When he entered Panlong City, he had over a dozen men under his command; now only this handful remained.
Finding the South Gate shut tight, he too wanted to climb the ramp.
He Chunhua instinctively rested a hand on his saber hilt. The Grand Marshal's retainers and the Yuan army were bitter enemies. Should they let them up?
Of course they should!
He immediately ordered his men, "Clear the barricades!"
Intercepting them below the gate and causing a commotion would only draw the monsters. Letting these men of the Grand Marshal climb the wall and finding a quiet moment to slit their throats—how hard could that be?
His own side held an overwhelming advantage in numbers; could they not take out five or six men?
However, upon seeing the guards on the wall, Yuezheng Qing's expression shifted. Giving up on climbing the wall, he turned and hurried away with his men.
The city was rife with danger, offering few decent hiding spots. That he would rather abandon a seemingly safe wall meant he had likely sensed the Yuan soldiers' ill intent.
He Chunhua could only inwardly lament the missed opportunity.
Then, everyone heard a loud, terrifying beast roar.
The roar echoed throughout Panlong Ancient City, sounding as if it could rip the sky apart.
One cry quieted a hundred beasts.
Even from so far away, many men felt their hearts trembling violently, overtaken by instinctual dread.
Clang. Someone's weapon dropped to the ground.
He Chunhua's voice went hoarse. "What was that?"
Had that massive beast passing beneath the gate earlier not even been their leader?
Only this roar marked the arrival of the true king of beasts!
He Lingchuan licked his lips and murmured from the bottom of his heart, "I hope it doesn't notice us."
He had heard beast roars of this magnitude in the otherworldly Fu Realm, back when the Thunder-Wielding Behemoth Lord bellowed, its voice shaking the land for dozens of li.
That had been the first time He Lingchuan ever witnessed such a magnificent behemoth.
No, that roar from the ruins just now was even more soul-shaking than the Thunder-Wielding Behemoth Lord's.
Just how many secrets were hidden inside the Dafang Pot, that it even harbored inhuman entities like that?
Right then, a blizzard erupted across the city without warning.
White frost coated the thick city walls in the blink of an eye. The lightly clad soldiers rushed into the gallery passageways to keep from turning into popsicles.
A cloud of white vapor puffed from He Chunhua's mouth as he spoke. "Two tornadoes are heading east."
"The eerie lights rising from the dead beasts are heading that way too," He Lingchuan noted. "They're all converging on the same place."
"Where?"
He Lingchuan shook his head; he had no idea either.
But soon, another beast roar echoed from the east, sounding even more thunderous.
"So fast!" He Chunhua's face drained of color. "In so short a time, it crossed more than half of Panlong City?"
Chapter 829