Chapter 52: Thirteen Zodiacs, the Great Night Nearly Breaks (Thanks to

On the yellowed scroll, a pig-like monstrous beast, skin stretched tight over bone, appeared eerie and ferocious amid swirling incense smoke.

Wang Tiantian… no, Wang Tao’s voice shifted from a woman’s to a man’s—deep, slightly magnetic.

“You were just… performing a ritual!?” Zhang Fan’s gaze darkened sharply, his voice stern.

When he burst in, he saw Wang Tiantian trapped in the blood pool and assumed she was being used as a living sacrifice; now it seemed he was performing the ritual within the pool.

The true living sacrifice is…

“It was supposed to be you, but now it’s him!”

Wang Tao regarded He Fei, still faintly struggling, with utter indifference.

“You’re useless now… you have no right to partake of dragon saliva.”

Wang Tao licked his lips; his appearance remained Wang Tiantian’s—sweet and lovely—but his voice was deep and magnetic, a grotesque contrast that made everyone stare with unease.

“You…” He Fei’s body trembled, struggling to turn, as if trying to grasp his attacker in his final moments.

Plop…

At that moment, Wang Tao clenched his palm—the still-beating heart exploded violently, and He Fei, like a dead dog, was tossed into the blood pool.

Hum…

Suddenly, the seven extinguished candles reignited; the crimson liquid in the pool bubbled fiercely, and a clear fluid, like nectar, slowly seeped out.

Hum…

Almost simultaneously, Zhang Fan moved—he formed hand seals, and the Heavenly Marshal’s Fang, still unextinguished behind him, unleashed terrifying power directly toward Wang Tao.

Boom…

Wang Tao stood firm, lifting only one finger, slowly extending it.

An unbelievable sight occurred—a thunderous crack rang out, and the invincible Heavenly Marshal’s Fang could not advance an inch before that single finger.

“Good junior, you’re still too green!”

Wang Tao’s lips curled slightly into a mocking smile.

Boom…

Then, with a flick of his finger, cracks spread beneath the Heavenly Marshal’s Fang; in an instant, the fangs shattered, and the shockwave flung Zhang Fan violently backward.

“Zhang Fan, you’re special… From now on, I’ve noticed you.” Wang Tao licked his lips, his gaze shifting slightly to Jiang Lai.

“But you’re even more special—how did you manage to stabilize a dragon vein in human form? This seems like an ancient Dao art…”

Wang Tao extended a slick tongue, his gaze toward Jiang Lai blazing with intense, strange luster.

“Let me see just how delicious your body truly is…”

Saying this, Wang Tao walked toward Jiang Lai.

“Get lost!!”

Zhang Fan roared, struggling to rise and lunging at Wang Tao.

“Good junior, you’re tired of living.”

Wang Tao stood still, not even lifting his eyelids, his eyes filled only with contempt and coldness—then slowly, he raised his right hand, extending it; in the center of his open palm grew a mouth—a mouth like a pig’s…

Roar…

At the same moment, the pig-mouth gaped wide, swallowing Zhang Fan like a sack as he charged forward.

Boom…

Suddenly, a brilliant bolt of lightning flashed violently between Zhang Fan and Wang Tao, its terrifying shockwave hurling both of them backward.

“Five Thunder Orthodoxy!?”

From the swirling dust, Wang Tao stepped out, his posture still elegant; his previously casual, indifferent gaze now held a faint seriousness as he regarded the newcomer.

“Bai Budian, long time no see!”

“Boss!”

“You finally came!”

Wen He and Jiang Hu, seeing the newcomer, clung to him like a lifeline, tears glistening in their eyes.

“Hai Zhu!”

“You still remember me?” Wang Tao licked his lips, staring at Bai Budian as if he’d spotted his most cherished prey, his whole body thrumming with excitement.

“You’re relentless, still daring to show your face!?” Bai Budian’s face darkened, his voice icy. “Your Five Thunder Orthodoxy is well refined. After all these years, I’ve been eager to test it.”

As he spoke, Wang Tao ripped off his long robe, revealing slender, pale legs, then raised a hand in a courteous gesture.

Hum…

At that moment, a gray mist surged violently around Wang Tao; a withered hand shot out from within, gripping his wrist tightly.

“Let’s go—the commotion’s too great…” A cold voice emerged from the gray mist.

“Zi Shu!?” Wang Tao’s brow lifted, but he said nothing, only coldly fixed his gaze on Bai Budian.

“What a pity—reunions are always so brief…”

“Bai Budian, we’ll meet again. You and I are the same kind of people…”

As he spoke, Wang Tao turned and stepped into the gray mist; halfway in, he paused, looked back at Bai Budian, and smiled with amusement.

“How does it feel to kill your master?”

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No sooner had he spoken than Wang Tao stepped forward and vanished into the gray mist.

Bai Budian’s pupils contracted sharply, his fists clenched, veins bulging; he stared intently—the strange gray mist had already dissolved into nothingness.

Splash…

At that moment, Zhang Fan crawled out of the blood pool, looking disheveled.

“Are you alright?” Bai Budian’s expression softened slightly as he looked at Zhang Fan.

“Do you know him? Who is he?”

Zhang Fan’s face darkened, his teeth gritted.

Wang Tao’s power exceeded his imagination!

“Don’t dwell on it—how long have you been cultivating? Even I wouldn’t dare provoke these people lightly…” Bai Budian, sensing Zhang Fan’s thoughts, said gravely.

“These people? Who are they?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

“The Thirteen Zodiacs,” Bai Budian paused briefly, then uttered a name.

“The Thirteen Zodiacs? What’s that?”

“Don’t ask. Let’s go quickly… someone’s coming.”

“The ones above,” Bai Budian added.

At that moment, Jiang Lai finally collapsed, unable to hold on. Zhang Fan moved swiftly, rushing forward to catch her.

“Let’s leave this place first,” Bai Budian glanced briefly, then shook his head, leading everyone away from the scene.

This night was destined to be sleepless; after returning to Ye Bu Liang, Bai Budian and Lao Yu gave everyone basic first aid.

Wen He and Jiang Hu were fine; Zhang Fan was badly injured, but only with superficial wounds.

Only Jiang Lai remained unconscious.

“No serious harm—she’s just exhausted…”

Bai Budian gave everyone a calming pill, then escorted each one home.

Along the way, Zhang Fan remained silent; he felt Bai Budian had left unsaid something.

Back home, Zhang Fan felt utterly drained—he’d never felt this way since he began cultivation, as if his body had been hollowed out.

He’d intended to meditate on the Southern and Northern Sect Origins, but after barely sustaining it for a moment, he fell into a deep sleep.

Deep into the night, Zhang Fan lay in bed, his breathing slow and steady.

Beneath the ceiling, his Nascent Soul emerged, seated in meditation, before him floated a glistening fluid, like nectar.

Seven-Star Sealed Dragon Mouth—great misfortune births dragon saliva!

At this moment, Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul formed hand seals, absorbing and refining this divine treasure.

Simultaneously, in Zhang Fan’s dream, he returned to the year he was twelve—the day of the car accident…

Night stretched endlessly, all around formless; he still saw nothing, only torrential rain, cold droplets striking his face.

Suddenly, thunder rumbled in the distance, and a faint voice reached him.

At that moment, twelve-year-old Zhang Fan looked up—he saw a glimmer of light amid the endless darkness, faint yet clear enough to reveal a shape.

In that instant, he realized he wasn’t on a highway—before him stood a towering mountain, ancient and imposing; at its base stood a weathered stele, its inscriptions swirling like dragons and snakes, faintly revealing three characters:

Longhu Mountain!!

(End of Chapter)