Chapter 817: Honghuang Longzu in Peril

The Abyssal Gate slowly closed behind him, cutting off all light and sound.

Only a steadfast footstep remained, echoing in the eternal darkness and Chaos.

It was a decisive resolve to be placed in death and then revived, a road where failure would make one a martyr.

Xu Tianfeng embarked on his path of proving the Dao.

Meanwhile, on the Supreme Battlefield, the crisis facing Honghuang Longzu grew ever more terrifying.

He was about to lose his resolve.

Honghuang Longzu's massive dragon body that spanned the Void was now riddled with wounds, its dragon scales nearly all gone.

Golden dragon blood surged from countless wounds as if it were cheap, steaming into vast clouds of golden mist within the Space-Time River.

Each of his breaths was accompanied by a spray of dragon blood and violent shudders of his dragon body.

The most lethal wounds—his dragon belly pierced by the Bizarre Lord's strange power, his dragon tail erased by the Void Master's void power, his dragon wings tainted by Ominous Light—were horrifyingly evident.

The Bizarre Lord's strange power had already penetrated his Dao Foundation, triggering countless inexplicable mutations within his body:

Dragon blood suddenly boiled then solidified, dragon tendons suddenly tightened then relaxed, dragon scales suddenly overgrew then fell off in large sheets.

The Void Master's void power continuously corroded him from the front, turning every attempt at gathering retaliatory force back into void.

Although both the Bizarre Lord and the Void Master also bore injuries—the Void Master's void true body had been shattered countless times by Honghuang Longzu's dragon claw, and the Bizarre Lord's strange Dao had been largely incinerated by Honghuang Longzu's Honghuang Dragon Breath— they still held the upper hand.

Their two‑against‑one advantage was being pushed to the limit, giving Honghuang Longzu no breathing room.

Though the ancient dragon eyes of Honghuang Longzu still burned with undying battle will, his dragon body was nearing its limit.

His dragon breath was no longer as scorching as before, his dragon claws no longer as fierce, his dragon chant no longer shook the universe as it once did.

He waited, waiting for a Miracle.

From afar, Dust Emperor saw the scene, his heart aflame with urgency.

He wanted to force a breakthrough past the End Times Master's seal to rescue, but the End Times Master's Apocalypse Eye remained fixed on him, offering no chance of escape.

Each time Dust Emperor tried to spread the Red Dust Dao Diagram toward Honghuang Longzu, the End Times Master's Apocalypse Power would erupt wildly, withering that strip of Red Dust.

"Your opponent is this seat, Dust Emperor; do not be distracted."

The End Times Master's hoary voice was calm and flat, yet the lethal intent it contained was more unsettling than any roar.

Each time his staff struck the ground, vast Red Dust phenomena turned under the apocalypse's gaze into a desolate Eternal Night.

Dust Emperor clenched his teeth as the Red Dust Dao Diagram and the Apocalypse Eye collided once more.

He knew the End Times Master would not let him rescue, just as he would never let the End Times Master aid elsewhere.

Every duel on this battlefield was locked.

To break the deadlock, new forces must join.

But the half‑step transcendents of the Zhutian Wanjie have already poured almost all their strength into the battlefield; where could new forces be found?

A cloud named "Despair" began to spread over the hearts of all watching beings of the Zhutian Wanjie.

At that moment—Above the Nine Heavens, suddenly, an aged yet resonant voice rang like an ancient divine bell, shaking the endless space‑time universe and reaching every living being's ear!

"You all wish to annihilate the Zhutian Wanjie—my Painter is the first to disagree! Hmph! Honghuang Longzu! Hold on! I am coming!"

The voice was hoary yet booming, like thunder striking a dead tree in spring, bearing the world‑worn weariness and an unflinching resolve against life and death.

The instant the voice exploded, countless Time‑Space Fragments that had been dimmed by the apocalypse and void corrosion trembled, flickering uncertainly anew.

The source of the voice surged toward the Supreme Battlefield at an unimaginable speed.

Accompanying that hoary voice were countless strange paintings.

They were not ordinary paintings—they were great paintings forged from Tiandao's divine power!

Each painting was an independent Tiandao divine technique; every stroke contained the Painter's deepest understanding and perception of the myriad ways of the Zhutian Wanjie!

The overwhelming Tiandao paintings swept down from Above the Nine Heavens like a vast river of painted Dao!

A Primordial Golden‑Winged Great Peng, rendered in ink, burst from the painting, its wings spreading to shade the sky; each feather, condensed from purest Painting Dao power, swirled with ink rhythm and Dao intent, emitting a universe‑shaking cry before it dived ferociously toward the Void Master.

Following it came a towering landscape scroll; countless majestic Divine Mountains burst from the paper—though not material, they weighed heavier than any solid form.

Because they were condensed from the law of the "Mountain Dao"!

Each Divine Mountain could suppress an entire great realm, bearing inexhaustible force as it crashed onto the Bizarre Lord.

After the landscape scroll came an endless, boundless azure sky; billions of stars rotated on the canvas, the Star River flowed, countless stars surged skyward from the scroll.

Each star was a Painting Dao star, forged by the Painter using the Star River law as ink and the universal Tiandao as brush, radiating brilliance that could rival the Zhutian Star Rivers, scattering and cleansing the strange and void forces that constantly eroded Honghuang Longzu's body.

Beyond the stars came legions of cavalry, iron riders brandishing swords and spears!

It was the "Kill‑and‑Conquer Diagram" of the Painting Dao, where generals die after a hundred battles and heroes return after ten years; a wave of iron‑blooded killing aura spewed from the scroll, forming an iron‑blooded divine army condensed from the Painting Dao law, mounted on warhorses, wielding Painting Halberds, disciplined in appearance, their killing aura spanning the heavens, charging straight at the Bizarre Lord.

Then, even more bizarre paintings poured in, covering the heavens.

Some depicted a riot of blooming flowers, enveloping and neutralizing the strange power that corroded Honghuang Longzu's wounds;

Some showed the thunderous Nine Heavens Thunder Tribulation, temporarily splitting the Void Master's void body between void and reality;

Some displayed auspicious omens of the three stars of Fortune, Prosperity and Longevity, casting a ray of auspicious light onto Honghuang Longzu, temporarily stabilizing his crumbling dragon body.

At the far end of that endless river of Tiandao paintings, an elderly man with white hair and a spry spirit stood, stepping on the Ten Thousand Dragons Soaring Diagram he had just completed, roaring in from Above the Nine Heavens.

The old man's beard and hair were white as snow, his face gaunt, yet his eyes shone brightly, sharp as a brush tip.

In his right hand he grasped an oddly ancient Painting Brush, its shaft made of Chaos Jade nurtured over countless epochs, its tip forged from myriad laws, the tip flowing with endless light of the Painting Dao's origin; each stroke left a lingering Dao trace in the void.

His left arm bore a massive painting board, crafted from an unknown material that exuded an ancient, boundless aura; the Xuan Paper on the board was a mysterious relic, each sheet capable of bearing the true meaning of a great world's Tiandao without breaking.

Though his figure was aged, he stood as upright as a pine.

Facing the Void Master and the Bizarre Lord—both half‑step transcendents at the pinnacle of Absolute Peak—and confronting that terrifying battlefield where countless beings turned pale at the intertwining of strange and void, he charged straight in without hesitation, not a moment's doubt.

It seemed he was not entering a half‑step transcendents' Supreme Battlefield, but merely stepping onto the canvas he had painted all his life, where the rich inks were merely scenery under his brush.

The newcomer was, unmistakably, the first Painting Dao being of all ages… the Painter!