Chapter 257: The White Dragon Controlled by Shadow

"What is that?" Kaide lowered his voice to a whisper, fearing to wake the unknown creature in the darkness.

"Shut up!" Ebi Si shot him a sharp glance and scolded in a low voice.

The few of them tiptoed, pacing forward in the dark, even their breathing was extremely careful, lest any sound be made.

The monster in the darkness stood at the center of the dome‑less hall; they could only hug the walls, and halfway through Kaide realized that Naimi Xisi behind him had vanished!

"Damn it, damn it!"

Kaide was seething inside; he wasn't worried about the employer's life or death—after all they had brought the people here—but he feared the other side might cause a commotion that would implicate them.

If he told Chui Lier now, the stubborn, old‑fashioned fellow would probably insist on retrieving the missing teammate, so Kaide kept the matter to himself and silently followed behind Ebi Si.

The closer they got to the dark monster, the more fear made Kaide shiver.

The creature's shape was like a small mountain; even shrouded in darkness, one could clearly feel the endless pressure radiating from its massive body. Darkness seemed its cloak, merging with it, rendering its outline even more vague, filled with mysterious, unknown terror.

The aura it emitted was grim and cold, spreading outward like a surging tide. It was a pure, primal sense of power, as if it could crush any life daring to approach. Under this oppressive presence, the air grew heavy, making each step feel laborious.

At this point, even though Kaide couldn't see the monster clearly, his courage was already shattered.

That's the Dragon Might only a great dragon possesses.

The monster in the darkness turned out to be a sleeping giant dragon!

As the few endured hardship, inching toward the giant dragon's back and trying to find an exit,

Naimi Xisi stepped in front of the creature.

He stared at the massive dark entity, his eyes filled with awe.

This is a gigantic White Dragon; by normal measurements, it should be of ancient dragon rank!

However, this White Dragon was clearly afflicted by an anomaly, its whole body entwined with shadow power; the eerie force churned around it like black mist, turning its once‑pure white scales into a strange half‑white, half‑black pattern. The white scales exuded a frosty aura in the dark, while the black portions looked like darkness‑corroded scars, radiating evil.

"Shadow power."

With a glance, Naimi Xisi saw that the White Dragon was being infiltrated by shadow power, even on the brink of being controlled and tamed!

Naimi Xisi lowered his gaze toward the sleeping dragon's head, his eyes somber. Shadow power isn't as infectiously strong as twisted Mana; there must be someone behind it, manipulating it to suppress an ancient White Dragon here.

Yet he wasn't worried; defeating an ancient White Dragon doesn't mean one can defeat him!

Juan Ce Long and the White Dragon, such a disgrace to the dragon race, are not the same creature.

Don't be fooled by this White Dragon's ancient dragon rank; White Dragons are naturally weak and dim‑witted, and even an ancient White Dragon can barely contend with an 18th‑level adventurer.

A regular elderly red dragon can defeat a 19th‑level adventurer, highlighting the frailty of a White Dragon lineage.

Still, the White Dragon's weakness is relative; against ordinary mortals, an ancient White Dragon remains a top‑tier powerhouse.

Legendary ones aren't that common.

Naimi Xisi curled his lips, forming a guess about the mastermind behind the White Dragon's condition.

One who can suppress a White Dragon and wield such potent shadow energy.

Having obtained the needed information, Naimi Xisi slipped back behind Kaide, and since the White Dragon was still asleep, he didn't bother to deal with it.

Chui Lier and the others, trembling with fear, circled to the giant dragon's rear, unaware that even if they sang and danced, the White Dragon wouldn't be roused.

Fortunately, their cautious progress wasn't fruitless; a narrow iron door appeared before them. Kaide whispered a chant, used a spell to unlock the door, and the group slipped out without pause.

Once out of the room, they finally breathed a sigh of relief. Ebi Si, looking like a survivor of a disaster, asked, "Why has the layout changed here? And why did a giant dragon appear suddenly?"

Kaide's face turned ashen, clearly still frightened.

Chui Lier fell silent; he didn't know what had happened, but now that they were here, they could only grit their teeth and move on.

"Everyone be careful; we're about to reach the shrine chamber. Rescue Mo Lei Nuo, then we leave quickly," Chui Lier said gravely.

Kaide at that moment only wanted to turn back and leave, but without Chui Lier and Ebi Si's help he couldn't go alone, so he gritted his teeth and kept up.

After leaving the giant dragon's chamber, they soon entered a room of roughly 500 square meters.

The room resembled a ceremonial chapel, with rows of wooden pews on both sides, a mosaic pathway leading to a blue‑white altar at the far end.

Elegant brass Candlesticks, each holding five white candles, were placed on either side of the pulpit. Two white ceramic jars, one with a brass stopper, sat in opposite corners.

A human skeleton was haphazardly discarded in the southwest corner; its tattered clothing and a faint black iron chain were visible, and one outstretched finger pointed toward the mist‑filled archway on the southern wall.

!

Just as Chui Lier was about to step toward the archway, Naimi Xisi intervened, "Wait."

The three looked at him puzzled, and saw him stride alone toward the altar, admiring a painting on the wall behind it.

The painting depicted everyday life here: believers seated on wooden chairs in the chapel, listening to the pastor's sermon.

The grotesque twist was that everyone was portrayed as rotting, with exposed hand bones and mouths teeming with maggots.

Yet among these nauseating portraits, a clearly recognizable holy emblem of each benevolent deity could still be seen.

Heimu, Luoshan Da, Selennye, Mi Si Te La.

Clearly, the painting meant that the gods' pastor was listening to the sermon delivered by the pastor on the pulpit.

Even the proud Juan Ce Long couldn't help but be astonished at the artist's audacity, daring to place a deity's pastor above the pastors of all gods.

Naimi Xisi looked again at the pastor on the pulpit in the painting, also a withered, rotting visage.

He stood on the pulpit, holding a scripture, his expression manic, mouth slightly open, as if reciting the doctrine of his deity.

The holy aura he bore was a broken left hand and an open eye at the center of the palm.

Naimi Xisi furrowed his brows, scouring his memory inheritance but finding no relevant information, utterly bewildered.

Whose holy emblem is this?

Naimi Xisi shook his head; Juan Ce Long's memory inheritance wasn't all‑encompassing.

(End of Chapter)