Chapter 141 — Bewilderment

A gray radiance seeped faintly from the cold edge of the beast fang, sweeping across the face of the Wild Wolf Daoist. The man lying before him was the very one who had destroyed the Blood Refining Hall with his own hands.

A flicker of light danced in his eyes, as though some thought warred within him. Yet such an opportunity came once in a thousand years. What manner of man was Mingli on ordinary days? The Wild Wolf Daoist would never have dared dream he could kill this man—but now Mingli seemed to have lost his mind entirely, and this was the perfect moment to exact his long-nurtured vengeance.

A savage light flashed in the Wild Wolf Daoist's eyes, and the beast-fang treasure came slashing down.

The wind sang in a mournful gust, and a sudden faint shrill of air being pierced tore open the stillness of the deep night.

Before the treasure could reach him, the wind of its passing had already struck the despondent man. The disheveled hair scattered across his brow was blown aside, revealing a face with closed eyes.

Perhaps a little pale, the Wild Wolf Daoist thought abruptly. In all his life he had never seen a man as strange as Mingli, and he could not fathom what it was that could make this man—who appeared so unshakably strong—sink into such deathly despair.

But neither did he wish to know. In his heart, the Blood Refining Hall had always been something of great importance—an importance that far surpassed even that of Elder Nian and the others who had once held its power. So when Mingli led his followers and drove them to the brink, Elder Nian and the rest had surrendered one after another, yet the Wild Wolf Daoist alone had, to everyone's surprise, held firm.

And now—now was the perfect chance for revenge!

The Wild Wolf Daoist had already begun to imagine the blood spraying forth and splashing across his face. But in that flash of a lightning moment, another thought suddenly came to him: if he killed this man, would little Wan behind him grieve? Perhaps she would never speak to him again...

After all, between little Wan and Mingli there was a past the Wild Wolf Daoist did not know. But the mere fact that little Wan insisted on bringing Mingli along and caring for him told him plainly what their bond was.

The Wild Wolf Daoist did not know why, but his mind had turned to a tangled mess; in that brief instant, countless thoughts raced through his head. Yet the beast fang in his hand nonetheless came piercing down through the air!

In the blink of an eye it reached the despondent man's throat—was about to pierce through.

A gigantic arm suddenly reached out from the darkness.

Soundless, apparition-like, it appeared before the Wild Wolf Daoist without warning. Before he could even react, that enormous palm had blatantly seized his beast-fang treasure in a crushing grip.

The fang's tremendous momentum still dragged the giant hand down a fraction—but only that fraction. Thereafter the whole fang was held in that grip as though forged of iron, unable to move, poised at Mingli's throat, a hair's breadth from piercing his neck. Yet no matter how the Wild Wolf Daoist strained with all his power and arts, he could not drive it an inch further.

The Wild Wolf Daoist turned pale with fright and looked up—and in an instant felt all the blood in his body run cold. There in the darkness above him blazed three orbs of fire in a triangular formation, and the uppermost flame in particular held within it a faint, solemn gold and a sinister, ferocious blood-crimson.

Try as he might, the Wild Wolf Daoist could not begin to guess why the gold that symbolized demon-subduing power and the crimson of blood-devouring could blend together. All he knew at this moment was that the monster in the darkness could seize his beast fang with a single hand—and such cultivation was far beyond anything he could fight.

And in the formless darkness around them, something suddenly seemed to roar in silence—as if some monstrous beast had let out a howl—and in an instant the darkness surged upward, threatening to swallow him whole.

The Wild Wolf Daoist dared linger no longer. Almost by instinct he released the beast-fang treasure, spun about, and flung himself backward. In the very instant he flew off, a keen, biting wind came crashing down from above and blasted a great crater where he had stood, sending up a thunderous boom that seemed to shake the whole hillside.

In the distance, Zhou Yixuan and little Wan were startled awake by the commotion at the same moment. They turned to look, and saw only the Wild Wolf Daoist's body hurtling back through the air to land near the campfire. Even after touching ground he could not stand steady, staggering and stumbling several steps backward.

Terror was written across his face, and his voice came out hoarse: "A monster—a monster..."

Zhou Yixuan and little Wan both looked back, and a moment later their faces too changed color.

In that patch of darkness, right where Mingli lay, a colossal figure slowly took shape. Two feet planted on the ground, arms hanging past the knees—at a glance it stood at least forty or fifty feet tall, towering far above everyone present. The crowd watched it slowly lift its head, until they could only gaze up at it.

At its very top, the three burning flames were the monster's eyes. Huge, razor-sharp fangs showed in its mouth, and its muscle-knotted body seemed to radiate murderous intent from every inch.

Zhou Yixuan drew a sharp breath and murmured, "A Three-Eyed Spirit... no—a Three-Eyed Fierce Ape."

Little Wan started. "Grandfather, what are you saying? Could it be Little Gray?"

Zhou Yixuan gave a snort, seized little Wan's arm, and pulled her back, while angrily demanding of the Wild Wolf Daoist, "What did you do to provoke this monster?"

The Wild Wolf Daoist said nothing.

Seeing him like this only stoked Zhou Yixuan's fury, and he was about to unleash a torrent of curses when a furious roar came from ahead. The Three-Eyed Fierce Ape's eyes gleamed blood-red, and its enormous body suddenly launched into the air; in an instant a great wind arose, and a vast shadow swept over them.

Zhou Yixuan and the other two went pale as death and scattered in flight. By now Little Gray, transformed into a giant ape, seemed truly enraged by the Wild Wolf Daoist's attempt on his master's life. A fierce light blazed in its eyes, and it struck without the slightest mercy.

They had barely dodged when Little Gray's giant hand came smashing down—with a bang, another great crater opened in the solid ground, and even the campfire nearby was blasted apart by the tremendous force, embers and ash swirling through the air and lighting Little Gray's huge frame like a demon out of legend.

"Wooaah!..."

The enraged beast roared, swung its right arm, and a gray streak flashed out, hurtling toward the Wild Wolf Daoist swift as wind and lightning. In an instant it was before the Wild Wolf Daoist's eyes.

The Wild Wolf Daoist felt a fierce wind strike his face; before it even reached him, the force of its passage seemed about to tear his skin open. In utter horror he lunged desperately to the side—but the instant his body moved, he felt a searing pain in his back as the gray streak grazed past him. His whole body convulsed; a tremendous force came surging from behind like mountains and seas, and with a rush of sweetness in his throat he spat out a mouthful of blood.

From the corner of his eye he caught sight of that gray streak—and it was his own beast-fang treasure.

Before he could even laugh bitterly, the giant ape's vast bulk loomed above him and came crashing down. The Wild Wolf Daoist tried to dodge, but his limbs had gone weak and he could not move at all. He could only give a long sigh, close his eyes, and wait for death.