Chapter 1265: Witch Vulture Dragon Mark

The Witch Vulture Dragon Mark appeared, and in an instant, dark winds howled with terrifying majesty; a ferocious dragon's roar echoed in everyone's ears.

"Dragon!"

Grand Chief Dan Lie and others all turned pale.

Even Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu wore expressions of disbelief, followed by unmistakable fury.

Lord Yan Zhu roared:

"Your Witch Vulture tribe dares steal the Dragon Mark, desecrate the Wang Ting—deserving ten thousand deaths!"

The Witch Vulture Young Master's face was cold, and he spoke calmly:

"The Great Wilderness' Dragon Vein belongs to the worthy—how can you speak of theft? I bear the Dragon Mark because the Dragon Vein has recognized me; I carry the Mandate of Kings. The Divine Dragon has acknowledged my bloodline and descended upon me—what right do you, a mere Lord Wuzhu, have to speak?"

Lord Yan Zhu's expression darkened; his mind churned with rage, and for a moment he was speechless.

The dragons of the Great Wilderness recognize only the Wang Zu.

Other barbarian tribes possess inferior bloodlines—they could never touch dragon blood, dragon marks, or dragon qi without suffering fatal backlash.

The one who bears a full dragon tattoo, even if not of the Wang Zu's direct line, must surely carry the Mandate of Kings.

The Witch Vulture Young Master speaks truly.

But precisely because he speaks truly, Lord Yan Zhu is even angrier, and his heart cannot accept it.

For it means that in this chaotic age, royal power has slipped away, the Great Wilderness' qi is in disorder, and its dynasty may soon change hands.

To Lord Yan Zhu, a Wang Ting Wuzhu who devotes himself to serving the Great Wilderness' gods and the Wang Zu, upholding their rule, this is nothing short of "reversing Shi Tiangang."

Even Grand Chiefs Dan Lie, Lord Lugu, and other tribal leaders turned pale, shaken, and for an instant knew not what to do.

The Witch Vulture Young Master gazed down upon them with haughty superiority, his voice hoarse and majestic:

"Now that the Dragon Vein has appeared, why not submit? Do you dare… defy the True Dragon of the Great Wilderness?"

Around them, silence fell, the atmosphere solemn to the extreme; the grand chiefs frowned, none dared speak, none dared move.

After a moment, Dan Lie, the "Grand Alliance Leader," sneered:

"What True Dragon? Ridiculous. Merely a crude, patched-up 'evil dragon'—how dare you impersonate the Great Wilderness' True Dragon and deceive us here?"

Lord Yan Zhu's eyes flashed, snapping back to awareness, then sneered:

"Indeed. As a Wuzhu who has served the Wang Ting for years, I have never seen such a black, sinister dragon upon you. This dragon is not orthodox—it is merely your Witch Vulture tribe's trickery, a demonic illusion meant to deceive the masses."

Lord Yan Zhu's gaze turned icy, and he declared word by word: "You painted the Dragon Mark in secret—you rebel against the Wang Ting—your crime deserves ten thousand deaths!"

At these words, all present echoed in agreement.

"Painted the Dragon Mark in secret—deserving ten thousand deaths!"

"Rebel against the Wang Ting—exterminate your entire clan!"

Filled with righteous fury, the Grand Chief of the Yi Yi tribe charged forward at once, roaring:

"Filthy scoundrel, die!"

Dan Lie, Lord Lugu, and the other grand chiefs acted decisively, striking swiftly, aiming to annihilate the Witch Vulture Young Master with overwhelming force.

To crush this great threat bearing the "Dragon Mark" right here.

The Great Wilderness must not see another dragon!

As the crowd surged toward him, the Witch Vulture Young Master's face remained like still water—then, instead of anger, he laughed coldly:

"You pitiful fools, refuse the face I've given you—since you wish to die, I shall grant you your wish…"

The Witch Vulture Young Master slowly opened his arms; the dragon mark upon his body seemed to awaken, writhing like a serpent ready to devour flesh, filling his form with ferocious malice.

"I shall show you what a True Dragon is—what true bloodline power is…"

As a strange dragon roar sounded, the Witch Vulture Young Master swelled in size.

The dragon mark slithered across his body, scales covering every inch.

His eyes and lips turned pitch black; his pupils became the vertical slits of a monstrous beast, flickering with a deep crimson glow.

He looked like a "Black Dragon Young Master."

Though his cultivation was only mid-Jin Dan, his aura alone struck terror into the heart.

Dan Lie and the other grand chiefs gritted their teeth, activating various barbarian artifacts to kill the Witch Vulture Young Master by force.

The two sides clashed in mortal combat.

Yet the "semi-dragon-transformed" Witch Vulture Young Master possessed an invincible body; his scales were impenetrable.

This defense allowed him to endure the killing blows of the Jin Dan late-stage grand chiefs and fight without restraint.

With the Dragon Mark's enhancement, nearly every punch the Witch Vulture Young Master threw carried rolling dragon roars, infused with peerless Witch Dragon power—touch it and you were wounded.

One misstep, and the dragon energy surged into the body, twisting and devouring bloodlines and bones, leaving irreversible, grievous injuries.

Defense: dragon scales shielded him, flawless. Attack: dragon energy coiled like a storm.

In the chaos, not a single grand chief could stand against the Witch Vulture Young Master for over a hundred rounds.

Even Lord Lugu was no match for him.

And this was despite the grand chiefs holding a full Jin Dan sub-realm advantage over him.

The power of the Dragon Mark's bloodline was terrifying indeed.

All around, those who witnessed this scene turned pale with shock.

Thousands of Zhu Que tribe barbarian soldiers, cowed by the Witch Vulture Young Master's aura, turned ashen-faced, their morale crumbling.

Meanwhile, the Witch Vulture army's spirits soared—they shouted their Young Master's name, the cries shaking the entire Zhu Que Mountain Range.

The tide turned abruptly.

No one could reverse the tide.

The Witch Vulture Young Master, alone, had subdued several tribal grand chiefs.

This was not merely suppression by strength—it was bloodline domination, the crushing weight of dragon aura.

The allied great chieftains could not endure a prolonged battle against the "dragon-transformed" young lord of the Wu Jiu, for not only would they be blasted by dragon force into their bodies and left grievously wounded, but the fear of dragons in their bloodlines, the submission to a "sovereign," was also deepening ceaselessly.

As if the young lord of the Wu Jiu were truly a son of the true dragon.

As if he were destined to be the sovereign of the Great Wasteland.

On top of that, the eight great generals of the Wu Jiu were cutting off escape routes and hunting them down.

Dan Lie and the other great chieftains finally could not hold out any longer and were forced to retreat nearly a hundred zhang from the altar.

And the young lord of the Wu Jiu, seeing Dan Lie and the others driven back by him, did not pursue; he merely curled a contemptuous, cold smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Now that I have transformed into a dragon, I am no longer of the mortal world; I am separated from you all by a chasm of bloodline."

"Therefore, you inferior beings of lesser bloodlines can only be ruled by me."

These words cut to the heart. The great chieftains, men of high station and great power, all turned ashen-faced. Yet though they had relied on the advantage of their cultivation, they had been defeated at the hands of the young lord of the Wu Jiu; before the fact, they could not argue back and could only swallow this humiliation in bitter resentment.

The young lord of the Wu Jiu clearly had no intention of wasting more words with these "vanquished foes."

He raised his noble head, looked toward the divine throne of Zhu Que Mountain, and in his gloomy eyes burned a scorching longing.

"Light the Zhu Que fire, open the ancient altar, summon the great god of the Wu Jiu to descend, and rule the mountain realm."

"When that day comes, I shall be the Lord of Zhu Que."

"My blood shall be the blood of a king…"

The young lord of the Wu Jiu's face grew solemn as he stepped toward the altar one pace at a time.

The great chieftains of the various tribes could only watch helplessly, utterly powerless to stop him.

They simply could not block the young lord of the Wu Jiu, who bore dragon markings and wielded fearsome bloodline power.

They could only watch the young lord of the Wu Jiu—like a "demon dragon descending upon the world"—climb the ancient steps, ascend step by step onto the altar their Zhu Que Mountain ancestors had enshrined, and set foot upon the "holy ground" of their heritage.

Even reaching for the divine throne of Zhu Que Mountain.

More than a few great chieftains clenched their teeth, so anxious they nearly spat blood.

But just as the young lord of the Wu Jiu truly stepped onto the altar, something unexpected happened.

From atop the altar there suddenly came a tremor, and fiercer "Zhu Que fire" blazed up, sweeping the surroundings like a storm of flames.

This was a higher-grade fire of divine sense.

Though formless and intangible, every cultivator of late Jin Dan present, even from a hundred zhang away, could faintly feel a searing pain upon their divine sense.

In their ears there seemed to ring the clear cry of a Zhu Que.

The "altar" is the forbidden ground of Zhu Que.

The Zhu Que fire atop the altar was vastly, vastly fiercer than that on the plaza.

Even the young lord of the Wu Jiu instantly turned deathly pale.

His flesh was incomparably tough, his dragon markings overwhelmingly domineering—but these were all powers of "flesh and blood."

The Zhu Que fire, however, was fire of divine sense, burning the heart and scorching the spirit.

He simply could not withstand it.

The moment the young lord of the Wu Jiu stepped onto the altar, the Zhu Que fire invaded his mind and forced him to retreat.

The crowd was somewhat dazed.

The generals and barbarian soldiers of the Wu Jiu tribe, who had believed their young lord to be the "Son of Destiny," also stopped their cheering, somewhat stunned.

The young lord of the Wu Jiu stepped down from the altar, his brow tightly furrowed.

Just then, the black mist suddenly churned, and beside him appeared an old man draped in the robes of a dead vulture.

This old man was deathly pale, his eyes tinged with green, wrapped in a cloak of black vulture feathers—looking for all the world like a gloomy "old bald vulture."

With a respectful expression, he said to the young lord of the Wu Jiu:

"The young lord's ambitions are grand; you bear dragon markings, your bloodline is noble. This barbaric land shall one day, sooner or later, all be the young lord's royal domain."

"Yet this altar is an object of the divine way. None may set foot upon it save those who sincerely believe in the gods, serve the divine lord, and offer their whole lives in three kneelings and nine prostrations to the deities."

"This is the duty of this old servant in his role as Lord Wuzhu. The young lord's body is worth ten thousand pieces of gold; you need not personally perform such a summoning of the gods."

The young lord of the Wu Jiu gazed deeply at this old man, his eyes cold, and slowly nodded.

The black-vulture old man left the young lord, came before the altar, bowed toward the Zhu Que atop the altar, and prayed aloud:

"Ancient Divine Lord Zhu Que above…"

"This old servant is the god-servant of the great god Wu Jiu. Now the Great Wasteland is beset by heavenly calamities, the starved dead lie upon the land; the descendants of the various Zhu Que tribes are unworthy, and the divine way does not shine."

"Now my young lord of the Wu Jiu bears the dragon pattern and harbors great ambition."

"Our great god Wu Jiu, in pity for all living things, shall save the Great Wasteland."

"I beg to borrow the divine lord's sacred ground for a use: to guide the great god Wu Jiu to descend briefly, to spread divine might throughout the world, and to deliver the Great Wasteland from suffering."

"This old servant here gives thanks to the divine lord…"

When the black-vulture old man finished speaking, he bowed once more to the Zhu Que divine image, then began to chant an incantation. His eye sockets instantly caved inward, his pupils turned strange—like a "carrion-eating" hawk.

It was as if some existence had descended into his body.

A wisp of black intent shaped like feathers coiled around his skull, shielding his sea of consciousness.

The black-vulture old man began to step forward, climbing the altar one pace at a time, walking into the fiercely burning, formless divine fire.

The divine fire of Zhu Que treated all alike, scorching the black-vulture old man's sea of consciousness.

But these flames were all blocked by the black feathered wings.

The black-vulture old man walked upward step by step, wholly unscathed.

In the young lord of the Wu Jiu's eyes flickered a trace of cold intent, but he said nothing.

He simply watched the black-vulture old man, who served as Lord Wuzhu, step by step ascend the altar that even he, the young lord, had never set foot upon.

Just then, the great chieftain Dan Lie's gaze hardened; he immediately drew a longbow inlaid with Zhu Que patterns and fitted an arrow, his killing intent aimed straight at the black-vulture old man who was ascending the altar.

This longbow was a treasured heirloom of the Dan Que tribe, imbued with the power of Zhu Que; in a place like this altar, its might was multiplied.

Up until now, the Great Chieftain Danlie had never once used it.

He had been holding back, waiting for the right moment — a single arrow to slay the Lord Wuzhu of the Wujiu Tribe.

Once the Lord Wuzhu was dead, no one would be able to withstand the Zhu Que flames, and he could ascend the ancient altar.

That way, in one fell swoop, he could completely cut off the Wujiu Tribe's hope of divine descent and shatter their ambitions.

He had never mentioned this matter to anyone — he wanted to settle it with a single arrow.

And as the Great Chieftain Danlie drew his bow and nocked the arrow, ten thousand flames gathered upon the Zhu Que Longbow, condensing into a long arrow of fire. Accompanied by the clear cry of the Zhu Que, it radiated a terrifying might.

The moment this arrow appeared, the aura of flame spread out, and the Young Master of the Wujiu Tribe instantly changed color.

The other great generals of the Wujiu Tribe also revealed looks of shock one after another.

"Stop him!"

The Young Master of the Wujiu Tribe barked sharply, then his figure flashed, and he was the first to position himself between the Great Chieftain Danlie and the Black Vulture Elder who was ascending the altar.

The other great generals of the Wujiu Tribe also stepped forward one after another to intercept.

But in the end, they were a fraction too late.

Great Chieftain Danlie — this arrow was launched without warning, his strike swift, without a single wasted word. Only at the final moment of release did he utter a single word:

"Die!"

Then the cry of the Zhu Que turned shrill, and ten thousand flames of fire were forged into a streak of red light that burst forth in an instant.

The Zhu Que arrow pierced through the air, drawing a long trail of fire across the sky, heading straight for the Black Vulture Elder.

Two great generals of the Wujiu Tribe tried to block it and were pierced straight through the chest.

The Young Master of the Wujiu Tribe, sharper than most, in that hairsbreadth instant predicted the trajectory of the Zhu Que arrow. His right hand transformed into a dragon claw, and with a sudden fierce grip, he actually seized this Zhu Que arrow in his bare hand.

But he only held it for an instant.

The next moment, as the flames exploded apart, the long arrow — like a feather of the Zhu Que — carrying an irresistible might, shot straight through his palm.

It even shattered his dragon scales, tore open his dragon claw, and his palm along with it was scorched by the raging flames.

This was almost the first time his dragon-transformed body had been wounded in this entire battle.

The Young Master of the Wujiu Tribe was furious in his heart, but he could not afford to care about that now — because the Black Vulture Elder, who served as Lord Wuzhu, could not die yet.

At least, not now.

The Young Master of the Wujiu Tribe hastily turned his head to look, and saw the Zhu Que arrow, wreathed in Xiong Xiongliehuo, hurtling straight toward the Black Vulture Elder.

The Black Vulture Elder was the Lord Wuzhu, who could know fortune and calamity — he should have been able to dodge it.

But he was currently ascending the ancient altar, surrounded on all sides by Zhu Que flames that could burn away divine sense.

He had to constantly channel his divine dao techniques, drawing upon the great god of the Wujiu for protection, just to withstand the pressure and climb the steps of the divine dao one step at a time.

Great Chieftain Danlie's prediction had also been extremely precise.

At this moment, the Black Vulture Elder clearly had no spare strength to evade this killing strike, which blazed like a meteor of flame.

But as the Lord Wuzhu of the Wujiu Tribe who oversaw the great matter of divine descent, the Black Vulture Elder was by no means an ordinary man.

His body actually "rotted" in an instant, transforming into a "rotten husk," with the foul-smelling feathers of the Wujiu mixed into the husk.

The Wujiu fed on carrion, and could also produce rotting flesh.

This rotting husk instantly swelled, like a barrier, wrapping the Black Vulture Elder within it.

Then the Zhu Que arrow struck the elder's rotting flesh, and as the raging flames poured through, they nearly burned his decayed body to utter ash.

The devastating power of this Zhu Que arrow was plain to see.

But after being repeatedly blocked by the great generals and the Young Master of the Wujiu, its force had been weakened — at the tail end of its strength, its power had also diminished somewhat.

This Zhu Que arrow did not truly kill the Black Vulture Elder.

As black feathers drifted down, the remaining rotting flesh writhed and transformed back into the elder.

Only now, half of the elder's body had been "vaporized" away.

The Black Vulture Elder turned around, fixed the Great Chieftain Danlie with a stare from a single pitch-black eye socket, wishing he could tear him into ten thousand pieces.

But at this moment, the divine descent was the great matter — every second counted.

The Black Vulture Elder suppressed his violent fury, and with his maimed body, climbed step by step toward the higher reaches of the altar. With unwavering will, he strove to summon the descent of his great god of the Wujiu.

Once the god of the Wujiu descended, his vision could be realized — every enemy of the divine dao would perish in a sea of rotting flesh, body and soul annihilated…

(End of this chapter)