Chapter Eleven: Framing

Ji Hao was clad in a suit of black leather armor, his face stained pitch-black with tree sap concocted by Lord Hengluo. This armor, tanned from the hide of a giant python, was standard issue for elite warriors of the Blackwater Serpent Clan. Ji Hao moved without a sound, his darting path winding and sinuous like a venomous snake gliding through blades of grass—an attack movement unique to the warriors of the Blackwater Serpent Clan.

Trailing faint afterimages, Ji Hao silently appeared behind Jiang Yao, who was still coughing blood. He thrust both hands forward, invoking the Nine-Character Incantation. The scalding steam billowing from the hot spring instantly condensed, transforming into a dozen or more black ice daggers that shot toward Jiang Yao’s back.

“Woman of the Fire Raven Clan... die!” Ji Hao’s voice turned hoarse and brittle, raspy as if a centenarian were shouting in anger.

The Nine-Character Incantation was profound in its ability to unlock and control one’s potential. Ji Hao could precisely command every muscle and tendon in his body; slightly twisting his vocal cords to change his voice was but a trivial application of the technique.

At that moment, Ji Wu was being dragged up by his hair, facing Ji Hao head-on and witnessing the venomous, serpentine charge. The murderous aura radiating from Ji Hao was as chilling as ancient ice, freezing Ji Wu’s body and soul. Only when Ji Hao condensed the steam into ice daggers and thrust them at Jiang Yao did Ji Wu painfully force his mouth open and scream in terror.

“Mother!”

Jiang Yao shuddered, turning her head in panic, just as the icy black daggers, cold and deadly, arrived silently behind her, nearly touching her.

Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. On reflex, Jiang Yao raised Ji Wu and shielded herself with his body. Ji Wu shrieked in terror, but every ice dagger found its mark, plunging deep into his chest and abdomen.

The hot blood surging from his wounds quickly melted the ice daggers, and rivers of blood gushed out from Ji Wu’s body. Ignoring Ji Hao, Ji Wu turned his head in utter confusion and agony, howling again, “Mother!”

Even Ji Hao was taken aback, glancing at Jiang Yao in shock.

This woman could actually use her own son as a human shield!

Unbidden, Ji Hao recalled the holy altar at Golden Crow Ridge, where the Blackwater Serpent Clan’s assassins had struck at him with deadly force. Ji Xia and Qing Fu had shielded his newborn self with their bodies, warding off the enemy’s blades at the cost of their own lives.

Compared side by side, Jiang Yao’s selfishness and ruthlessness left even Ji Hao speechless in awe.

“Woman... you truly are formidable!” Ji Hao sneered, his voice dripping with irony. The pitch-black viper coiled at his waist shot out, fangs bared, lunging straight for Ji Wu’s throat.

Ji Wu was already a tenth-tier shaman, his vitality far surpassing that of ordinary men. Though a dozen ice daggers had pierced his torso, none had struck his heart or other vital organs—enough to wound, but not to kill.

But the “Black-Scaled Three-Step Viper” that Lord Hengluo had painstakingly procured was one of the most lethal serpents in the wild. Unless one was a master shaman, a single bite would doom the average shaman to death within three steps.

“Mother, save me!” Blood-soaked, Ji Wu watched the viper streak toward his throat, and wailed in despair.

With a grim face, Jiang Yao sprinted forward, flinging a handful of black powder behind her. The viper plunged into the swirling black mist, and with a series of hissing sounds, the five-foot-long snake dissolved into a pool of blood in the blink of an eye.

Startled, Ji Hao let out a strangled cry, twisting his body in a sudden arc to evade the spreading black mist.

“Such a venomous woman! But I like it. A beautiful witch priestess fetches a fine price!” Ji Hao’s voice was eerie, almost mocking, as he drew a slim, oddly shaped longsword from his back. The blade flashed coldly as it thrust toward Ji Wu’s heart.

This sword was a trophy from years spent with Crow Lord, hunting Blackwater Serpent Clan teams in the forest—a weapon unique to their clan. Fire Raven Clan warriors favored hefty axes and massive swords; only the crafty warriors of the Blackwater Serpent Clan used these narrow, razor-sharp swords.

With a flick of his wrist, the supple blade vibrated, emitting a sibilant hiss like a snake as it streaked toward Ji Wu.

“Mother!” Ji Wu shrieked again, his voice hoarse with terror. As the sword tip pierced for his heart, horror overwhelmed him, his legs giving way as a foul stench of urine drifted on the wind.

Jiang Yao shuddered violently. Fire erupted around her, doubling her fleeing speed as she flung another handful of deadly powder behind her. At the same time, with a flick of her robes, dozens of glossy black scorpions with membranous wings shot out, buzzing toward Ji Hao.

“Deathshade Ghost Scorpions?” Ji Hao barked coldly. “Woman, your tricks are endless, but useless!”

His tone was relaxed, but as the ghost scorpions shot toward him with lightning speed, Ji Hao instinctively retreated, using every ounce of strength to spring away. Their venom would not kill outright, but the agony it caused was unbearable, enough to kill a man through pain alone—so potent that even a great shaman would writhe in torment from a single sting.

His sword flashed rapidly, raining steel that sliced the fragile yet deadly scorpions in twain.

In the midst of the chaos, Jiang Yao glanced back, glaring coldly at Ji Hao in his black serpentskin armor. “So, you’re from the Blackwater Serpent Clan? I, Jiang Yao, will remember you! Old man, I’ll remember your voice!”

She cursed angrily, dragging the blood-soaked Ji Wu as she fled desperately forward.

In the dense forest ahead, Old Shi gripped a “black bronze vine” at least three to five hundred years old, tougher than the finest steel. Faint runes flickered on his gray-white skin.

Jiang Yao crashed into the thicket. Old Shi bellowed gutturally, “Wine!” and swung the dozen-yard-long vine with all his might.

The vine struck Jiang Yao squarely in the chest, sending her and Ji Wu flying back with a chorus of anguished screams and the sound of splintering bones. Their bodies arced through the air, blood spraying, as they were hurled back toward the hot spring.

Atop a distant treetop, Lord Hengluo drew a slender longbow. A razor-sharp leg from the venomous “Ghostmother Spider” whistled through the air, tracing an eerie arc over three miles before unerringly targeting Jiang Yao’s throat as she tumbled, spitting blood.

Jiang Yao roared a curse, producing a palm-sized red bone fragment and crushing it in her fist. With a thunderous boom, a blaze of fire enveloped her and Ji Wu, transforming them into a fire-red, one-legged divine bird—a Bi Fang—that shot into the sky, vanishing in a blink.

“Damn it!” Ji Hao cleaved the last ghost scorpion in two, glaring furiously at the gaping hole torn in the clouds overhead.

“Jiang Yao, this isn’t over!”

With a few cold snorts, Ji Hao casually tossed aside fragments of serpentskin armor and broken Blackwater Serpent Clan weapons, then whistled sharply and melted into the dense forest.

Since he had failed to kill Jiang Yao and her son, he would let them stew in uncertainty and suspicion. However they chose to guess, it had nothing to do with Ji Hao anymore.