Chapter 57

56, Python Robe

It had been one day since Feng Si imposed the Death Mark on Zhou Chang.

Now Zhou Chang had only nine days left to live, so his deal with the “Emperor Shizong’s Golden Skull” was to place the skull upon the Ni Corpse’s neck after those nine days.

After nine days, everything would come to a conclusion.

As Zhou Chang finished speaking, the noblewoman pressed against his face suddenly straightened her body.

Numerous blurred, chaotic golden specks filled her rigid form, each speck emitting piercing noise.

No sooner did the intense noise ripple through Zhou Chang’s spirit than searing pain erupted in his skull!

He knew this sensation all too well—it was the agony of one’s spirit being violently damaged, on the verge of total depletion!

Every golden speck surrounding the noblewoman brimmed with vast quantities of Xiang Nian.

Zhou Chang perceived this Xiang Nian, but could not withstand its oceanic surge—hence the excruciating pain in his head.

In that moment, he suddenly understood why Xiue’s grandfather had fallen ill after seeing this noblewoman, slipping in and out of consciousness until he died.

The terrifying Xiang Nian clinging to her had shattered her grandfather’s nature-soul outright.

This noblewoman, cradling Emperor Shizong’s skull, had always been nothing more than a “feeding vessel.”

Emperor Shizong’s skull needed her to absorb Xiang Nian and sustain its own “vitality.”

Though she had not yet transformed into a Xiang Demon, even a Xiang Demon like Li Xiamei could only glimpse her with the corner of her eye.

To look directly at this “aggregate of Xiang Nian” would cause Li Xiamei’s killing pattern to collapse under the torrent of terrifying Xiang Nian.

Amid unbearable agony, the golden specks surrounding the noblewoman wove together into a bright yellow dragon robe.

The noblewoman raised the swaddled Emperor Shizong’s skull above her head and placed it atop her own.

Black-blue, ruptured qi veins rose from all directions of empty space, coalescing behind the dragon-robed figure crowned with the skull into a dragon throne.

The “Emperor Shizong” sat squarely upon the crumbling, tottering throne, his face cast in gold; when he opened his mouth, Zhou Chang saw row upon row, layer upon layer of official titles and spirit tablets pressed beneath his tongue.

Among the many tablets, there was indeed one bearing the name “Wen Yongsheng.”

Wen Yongsheng’s tablet stood foremost among all others, its inscriptions weathered and fading, ready to fall off at any moment.

“Wen Yongsheng’s tablet stands ahead of all other tablets and titles; only its characters remain legible, while all others are indistinguishable.”

Does this mean that, over countless past years, Wen Yongsheng was most deeply entwined with Emperor Shizong’s skull?

Did Emperor Shizong truly use Wen Yongsheng’s body to carry out his schemes?

To make Wen Yongsheng abandon his body, Emperor Shizong must have offered him an immense boon—perhaps the divine banner of “Cao Tou Long Chang”?

Will this Emperor Shizong now bestow another divine banner upon me?

After all, I’ve done him a great favor by providing such a fine vessel…”

As the agony in his mind lessened, Zhou Chang’s thoughts shifted.

His peripheral vision fell upon the tottering throne beneath the “Emperor Shizong,” and upon the countless tablets and titles beneath the tongue—only Wen Yongsheng’s remained usable. A grim certainty settled in: “The Qing Dynasty is truly finished—dead beyond resurrection.”

“Reward…”

Only now did a drawn-out breath escape Emperor Shizong’s mouth.

As his words faded, all the faded, illegible, decaying official titles and spirit tablets beneath his tongue were crushed into golden dust.

Golden specks, like fine sand, spilled from Emperor Shizong’s lips and rained toward Zhou Chang!

The dying emperor of the broken throne rose shakily, his arms reeking of decay emerging from sleeves embroidered with faded flowers, plucking the golden skull from atop his head.

The noblewoman returned the skull to its swaddle, hugged it close, and vanished from the corner of Zhou Chang’s vision.

Zhou Chang’s third eye trembled; strands of blood-nets and iron-nets drifted out, covering his body and shielding his life-soul—he used this garment of nets to receive the golden-dust reward.

But could this reward from the emperor harbor hidden malice?

Zhou Chang did not wish his own tablet to appear beneath the emperor’s tongue, reduced to a disposable scrap to be crushed at will!

Hum…

Golden specks drifted down from empty space, settling upon Zhou Chang’s network of spirit-nets.

Zhou Chang’s entire net of spirit-nets trembled; in that tremor, the golden specks spread and multiplied across his skin—golden scales grew upon the nets, covering his torso and limbs.

In mere moments, the falling golden dust, supported by Zhou Chang’s full network of spirit-nets, transformed into a “python robe” draped over his body.

A four-clawed python coiled around Zhou Chang’s chest, jaws wide open, radiating solemn authority.

“A python robe? What use is this?”

Zhou Chang stared at the robe, attempting to project his spirit into it—but his spirit vanished into it like a clay ox sinking into the sea, leaving no trace and triggering no further change.

Wearing the robe did make him feel its protective power exceeded that of his spirit-nets.

Yet after crushing so many tablets and titles, was the sole function of this python robe merely to shield Zhou Chang?

That made sense—it had chosen his body precisely for its suitability.

Zhou Chang tried again, but could not unlock any other function of the robe; he then attempted to remove it, retracting all his spirit-nets—but the robe remained firmly fixed upon him.

He tried unbuttoning it, yet still could not take it off.

“Is this python robe something you can’t take off once worn?”

Zhou Chang’s thoughts churned; the spirit-nets gathered in his third eye instantly spread again over his body.

At that moment, the object growing on the spirit-net network in his left palm subtly stirred.

He raised his left hand; in his palm, Li Xiamei’s Xiang Demon root-form—the black-purple lips—slightly parted, revealing glimpses of saliva-slicked canine teeth.

Zhou Chang’s eyes flickered; he sent a strand of spirit-net into the black-purple lips—

The thin, translucent white strand slipped inside; from between the black-purple lips, a strand of pitch-black cotton thread emerged, winding once around Zhou Chang’s left wrist.

The python robe’s sleeve on Zhou Chang’s left wrist shortened slightly.

Zhou Chang stared intently, sending more strands of spirit-net into the black-purple lips—

Along the mountain path, the towering figure clad entirely in python robe suddenly became a bizarre hybrid: half draped in python robe, half wrapped in black funeral shroud.