Chapter 777

Liuli Mansion, at the city gate.

Two rows of soldiers, their bodies suffused with imperial qi, stood at attention; demon-catchers with iron plaques hanging at their waists leaned against the city wall, eyes lowered, absorbing every face that passed.

Not just here—now, all twenty-seven prefectures of Dananzhou were arranged in this manner.

Due to the Regional Commander halting operations in Liuli Mansion, barely twenty zhang inside the gate, two titled generals sat facing each other beneath a tree, feigning casual conversation, yet their spiritual presence already enveloped the entire long street.

Not to mention the unseen corners, where Dananzhou was silently watched over by hidden zhen stones, among which was even a third-rank demon rivaling a Great Luo Immortal Sovereign.

Amid this ironclad defense.

Two porters, one tall and sturdy, carrying a shoulder pole, the other thin and hunched, following low behind, passed the soldiers’ interrogation and stepped calmly into the prefectural city.

They passed beneath the demon-catchers’ gaze and walked past the seated titled generals, lips moving, clearly speaking to each other.

Yet the titled generals detected not the slightest anomaly, let alone heard any sound.

“Why are we here?”

The thin porter’s eyes held a trace of confusion.

The long journey had been measured by foot alone—no spiritual arts or techniques could be used. It wasn’t tiring, but it was damned inconvenient.

With their strength, couldn’t they just break through Dananzhou directly? Why pick a specific location?

The tall porter stared straight ahead, his muddy bare feet stepping faster and faster.

The two fourth-rank cultivators seated earlier had confirmed his thought—no other prefecture had received such treatment.

The two fourth-rank cultivators sitting across from each other just now also confirmed his thought—no other prefecture city offers such treatment.

He drew out his voice, his tone calm, unhidden: “I trust neither you nor them.”

At this, the thin porter frowned slightly but dared not offend him.

After all, the “them” in his words likely referred to the Bodhi Sect and the Three Immortal Sects—compared to those two great sects, not trusting himself meant nothing.

After all, the “they” in their words likely referred to the Bodhi Sect and the Three Immortals Sect; compared to these two great sects, not trusting oneself meant nothing.

The Southern Emperor slightly tugged the brim of his straw hat, slowed his steps, and gazed at the imposing prefectural government office.

He had deliberately brought along this final demon lord, wandering aimlessly through Dananzhou’s twenty-seven prefectures as if traversing an empty land—not to show off his power, nor to cowardly delay.

After all, though the Southern Emperor had been forced to come to the Divine Dynasty by the incense ash imprint, he feared only the Great Freedom Pure World Bodhisattva.

In the absence of Mount Sumeru, in Dananzhou, he was still the sovereign who looked down upon the world.

But the losses he had suffered earlier could not have been inflicted by the Divine Dynasty—they were almost certainly the result of open and covert struggles between the two sects.

The Southern Emperor could accept the risk of breaking through a prefecture, but this time, no one—not even those so-called Bodhisattvas and Immortal Sovereigns—would know his movements.

When and where to strike must be known only to himself.

Where to strike, when to strike—only he himself must know.

The tall porter removed the shoulder pole from his shoulder, letting the other end rest casually on the ground.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and a look of deep ecstasy appeared on his face.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and a deep expression of bliss appeared on his face.

Ssshh… the pole dragged across the stone pavement; the tall porter, eyes still closed, stepped calmly up the stairs, crossed the threshold, and entered the prefectural office.

Everyone seemed to ignore his figure.

A woman in white robes brushed past him, just stepping out of the office gate—suddenly, she froze as if struck by lightning.

Ye Lan instinctively clutched her chest, feeling her heart pound violently.

Her other hand gripped the demon-slaying token at her waist; beneath her stunned gaze, the jade plaque—imbued with the power of the Three-Three Transformations—suddenly erupted in chaotic yellow mist.

Her other hand instinctively gripped the Demon-Slaying Token at her waist; under her stunned gaze, the jade tablet imbued with the power of thrice-three transformations suddenly erupted as golden mist surged wildly.

Sharp sounds echoed in her ears; the demon-slaying token in her palm shattered into fragments.

Her back instantly soaked in cold sweat; she whirled around—inside the hall, people came and went, laughter ringing, everything as ordinary as ever.

Yet Ye Lan’s body trembled slightly, her pupils constricted, as if she already saw the blood-soaked corpses lying ahead.

But Ye Lan’s body trembled slightly, her pupils contracting as if she already saw the carnage to come.

…

In a small courtyard deep within the prefectural office.

Three Regional Commanders, faces grim, pored over daily reports from every prefecture, leaving no trace unexamined.

Yang Mingli rubbed his eyes, turned his gaze to the map on the desk, and traced it across the twenty-seven prefectures, laughing bitterly: “Whether it comes or not, just waiting here like this—I fear I’ll die of exhaustion before it even arrives.”

Even a third-rank powerhouse couldn’t keep his nerves taut like this forever.

“If it really comes, you won’t be happy either.”

Feng Xi shot him an irritated glance; Yan Lanting carefully stacked the book he’d just flipped through and pulled out another.

Seeing this, Yang Mingli clicked his tongue—even this old bastard had no energy left to bicker with him; it showed just how heavy the pressure weighed on all their hearts.

He helplessly stared at the map, hoping to spot some clue: “Whether it comes or not—I have no say.”

At that moment, a shoulder pole as thick as a bowl’s mouth reached over his shoulder and gently tapped the center of the map—the spot marked Liuli Mansion.

A soft whisper sounded beside his ear.

“It’s here. Right here.”

Instantly, Yang Mingli’s hair stood on end—since becoming Regional Commander, no one had ever approached him this silently.

His tribulation power surged instinctively; he turned to look.

But the pole pressed down on his shoulder—a plain, mundane object—yet it pinned the third-rank powerhouse firmly to his chair.

Yet the pole casually settled onto Yang Mingli’s shoulder—a plain, ordinary mundane object—that somehow pinned the third-rank powerhouse firmly in his chair.

The whisper remained as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, yet the three heard a thread of resentment in it.

The resentment of one bound against his will.

This resentment needed an outlet.

“Move again… I’ll kill you.”

The tall porter held the pole in one hand, lifted the straw hat with the other, grinned, licked his white teeth with his tongue, and slowly revealed a cruel smile across his bearded face.

A threat as crude as a street thug—but when spoken by a great demon long famed in Dananzhou, no one doubted its truth.

Yang Mingli felt his mind tremble; after a brief mental collapse, his focus sharpened beyond anything before, frantically searching for a response.

Yet even so, his breathing, thickened by panic, was an involuntary bodily reaction beyond his control.

“Along the way, I’ve heard many rumors.”

“Among them, ‘Nanyang’ was the most familiar.”

“Tell me, which of you three is the Nanyang General?”

The tall porter casually tossed the straw hat to the ground. He stood deep within the heart of the Divine Dynasty’s Dananzhou, surrounded by imperial qi and the empire’s finest warriors—yet he moved as if strolling through a garden, calm and unhurried, even taking time to resolve his curiosity.

After all, based on his journey through Dananzhou, every one of his plans had failed, and all seemed tied to this title.

The Southern Emperor was truly curious: who was this mysterious figure, possessing such power while leaving no flaw in his calculations?

Who had disrupted his plans so thoroughly, forcing him into this situation—compelled to break through a prefecture against his will?

He slowly scanned the three before him: “None of you speak?”

The man’s beard trembled slightly—he was silently laughing. “Then I’ll assume all three of you are Nanyang.”

The question didn’t need an answer.

If you truly have the ability, you’ll know at a glance. If you die, whether you were Nanyang or not no longer matters.

He had already pinned Yang Mingli with the pole—yet now, under the three’s fixed stares, he simply and cleanly released it.

Then, before their eyes, the man lazily stretched, letting out a deep, thunderous yawn.

Immediately after, the man stretched lazily before their eyes, letting out a deep, thunderous yawn that rolled like heaven’s drum.

With that muffled sound, his muscular body suddenly glowed with indigo light; his taut skin rippled like waves, forming layers upon layers, his entire frame swelling wildly as if inflated by air!

With the dull sound, a deep indigo glow suddenly spread over his muscular frame; his taut skin rippled like waves, forming layered folds, and his entire body swelled wildly as if being inflated!

Yan Lanting roared suddenly.

Ancient texts recorded most often this demon’s terrifyingly massive true form.

In other words, this monster needed no technique—merely revealing his true body could reduce Liuli Mansion to ruins.

The three Regional Commanders simultaneously activated their demon-slaying tokens.

The imperial qi within the tokens far surpassed the one Ye Lan held.

Longtime comrades, they needed no words—each understood the others’ intent. Without hesitation, Yang Mingli and Feng Xi seized the porter’s arms, Yan Lanting wrapped his arms around his waist.

They channeled their tribulation power, aiming to hurl him into the sky.

They simultaneously mobilized tribulation energy, intending to send him soaring to the heavens.

Wu Shan arrived, footsteps hurried and frantic—but at the courtyard’s entrance, he suddenly froze.

He stared, dumbfounded, at the scene within.

One moment, the three elders had seemed to restrain the porter; the next, as the indigo flesh-mountain swelled rapidly, they became three ants dangling from the branches of a sky-piercing tree, swaying in the wind.

Wu Shan’s gaze shifted from eye-level to a dazed, upward stare in the span of a breath.

This familiar figure instantly dragged him back to childhood—the day his family was slaughtered, when he had looked up and seen that fleeting, unforgettable, terrifying shadow in the sky.

For years of arduous cultivation, in countless nights, he had imagined the moment he stood before that figure again—what grand words he would speak to vent his hatred.

But now, at this moment, he no longer looked from a distant, unreachable place—he stood closer, yet still looked up.

All the grand speeches he had prepared dissolved into trembling, barely audible words, his body shaking uncontrollably.

All those years of grand declarations dissolved into a few trembling words, as his body shook uncontrollably.

Before the words left his lips, the indigo flesh-mountain had swollen to the size of the entire prefecture, hanging above the lives of Liuli Mansion, blotting out sun and moon, scattering the white clouds, its shadow swallowing the earth in an instant.

Before his words had even faded, the indigo-colored flesh mountain had swelled to the size of the entire prefectural city, hanging above the myriad beings of Liuli City, blotting out sun and moon, scattering the vast white clouds, and in an instant, its shadow swallowed the earth.

“Get up, damn it!!”

Even when facing the Thousand-Armed Bodhisattva, Yan Lanting had managed to force his body to walk out of the hall.

But now, the Southern Emperor hadn’t even moved—and this old man let out a voice-shattering roar!

He was the only one among the three who had completed the Triple Triple Transformation, and he held the Demon-Slaying Edict, an arcane artifact, its thick imperial aura nearly enveloping his entire body, forming a brilliant golden robe.

The three Regional Commanders dug their palms deep into their own fat, yet could barely lift the indigo mountain of flesh another inch into the air—and before any true battle even began, they were already on the verge of collapse!

The earlier yawn had turned into bursts of laughter.

The Southern Emperor finally retracted its outstretched arms, glancing coldly at Yan Lanting, who looked like an ant on its body, and shook its head: “You’re not Nanyang.”

Then it turned to Feng Xi: “Neither are you.”

Finally, the flesh mountain scornfully glanced at Yang Mingli: “And you’re even less likely.”

In a breath, it suddenly sank downward.

With just this simple motion, the imperial aura on all three Regional Commanders instantly shattered; their faces flushed crimson, nearly dripping blood, and—according to their cultivation levels—they each spat out gouts of blood.

“Puff!”

They hadn’t even had time to unleash their own techniques—if they refused to let go, it seemed they would be crushed to death right then and there.

Aside from the terrifying, overwhelming force surging through them.

The thunderous laughter at their ears shook their spirits to the brink of shattering, blood vessels bursting across their sclerae.

Just as the Southern Emperor grew bored and prepared to crush them outright, its eyelids suddenly lifted—above, the air rippled violently, as if an invisible mouth had swallowed all three whole.

“...”

The Southern Emperor fell silent, gazing calmly down at the earth below.

Soon, its gaze returned to the courtyard below.

Somehow, the three cultivators had already returned to the ground, seated weakly on their chairs, supported by a slender back.

The ink-colored robe fluttered slightly as the figure bent forward, effortlessly dispelling the residual force clinging to Yan Lanting’s body, then straightened up, turned in silence, and looked toward the indigo flesh mountain in the sky.

This was their first gaze across each other in the Luli Palace.

The Southern Emperor saw the pale, handsome face—it had seen it only once before, yet remembered it vividly.

From Qisheng Marsh to their reunion in Dananzhou, what remained unchanged was the disdain and cold pride in those eyes.

“Hahahaha...”

The Southern Emperor forced out a laugh from its throat—filled with the same resentment as before—but that resentment quickly faded, replaced by unmistakable, seething rage.

It had thought the problem lay in the conflict between the two sects, that it had been dragged into the fray—but it had never imagined—

The same Nanshumi.

Someone forced you to break into Pozhou; someone else is building fame by exploiting the demon clans.

The Southern Emperor had believed it had foolishly become a dog used by those monks—but now it finally understood: it wasn’t even a hunting hound. It was merely a plaything, locked in a cage and mocked by those monks.

“So... ha... the Bodhisattva is Nanyang!”

Perhaps because of its excessive bulk, it laughed until it could barely breathe—but soon, beneath Shen Yi’s lofty posture, the flesh mountain’s expression twisted into something grotesque and monstrous.

Leaning on a great sect, one dares to be so arrogant—yet forgets the hardest truth in this world.

“The Bodhisattva will soon understand why I, the Southern Emperor, still live today.”

Before the words had fully left its mouth, the Southern Emperor’s gaze was already brimming with mockery—when it no longer cared about those things, the great tree this monk thought he leaned on, the very things that let him stand tall before it, meant nothing at all.

Just a clown.

(End of Chapter)