Chapter Forty-Five: Coercion

The boundless southern wilderness stretched endlessly, its vast mountains and forests nurturing countless rare and wondrous creatures. The abundant spiritual energy of heaven and earth could even nourish and give rise to extraordinary beings like Old Stone, the ancient tree demon, and Lord Hengluo. In such a land, the existence of even more peculiar entities was only to be expected.

Ji Xiao roared furiously as he was struck down with a single palm, the tremendous impact nearly snapping his neck. He struggled desperately with both hands and feet, the power of a great shaman surging within him like a raging tide, shaking the earth with thunderous force.

Yet the bony hand gripping his throat remained motionless, holding him firmly in place.

A wisp of black vapor slowly emerged from the air, and a terrifying figure gradually took shape—a body of jet-black, metallic bones, its head resembling a human skull at first glance, but surmounted by six massive, twisted horns, clearly not of the human race.

This eerie being was made entirely of black, metal-glossed bones, without a trace of flesh. Suspended in its empty abdomen was a green light the size of a human head, within which a faint, blurred visage could be seen.

The Blackwater Wujiao watched in horror as this powerful entity materialized from the black smoke. Though Ji Xiao’s strength was less than the Wujiao’s, he too was a warrior of the great shaman level; to suppress him so effortlessly spoke volumes of the black-boned monster’s power.

“Spirit of the forest, why do you make an enemy of me? Do you not know the renown of our Blackwater Serpent Tribe?” the Blackwater Wujiao cried, biting his tongue and spitting out a drop of blood, reciting a garbled incantation as he loudly questioned the black-boned monster.

“Sacrifice!” The black-boned monster pressed down on the struggling Ji Xiao with one hand, twin green flames blazing in its hollow sockets. It stared fixedly at the Blackwater Wujiao, but made no sound. Instead, a heavy, rasping voice filled the air as another monstrous being, several times larger than the first, slowly emerged—a creature formed entirely of white bones.

This white-boned behemoth stretched over a dozen yards long and rose nearly eight yards high, its body pure and silvery white. Each slight movement caused its bones to grind together with the clear clang of metal upon metal. Its form resembled the skeleton of a lion or tiger, but its enormous skull was distinctly human in shape.

From its pallid eye sockets, two vortices of gray mist spun rapidly as the white-boned monster intoned chillingly, “Humans… we abide by the pact your ancestors forged with us. Those who offer us blood and flesh as sacrifice—we fight for them!”

With a hiss, a misty, rainbow-hued lizard formed of vapor darted out from the white-boned monster’s chest cavity. This lizard was insubstantial, a mere illusion of colored smoke, but it quickly scampered atop the white-boned monster’s head and unleashed a provocative cry toward the one-horned serpent at the Blackwater Wujiao’s feet.

The one-horned serpent abruptly reared back, flicking out its black tongue over a yard long, and responded with a furious hiss.

“Warriors of the Blackwater Serpent Tribe, kill Ji Xia! Slay our enemy!” The Blackwater Wujiao, unaware of what had transpired in the dense forest, kept his focus on Ji Xia. Seeing the two bone monsters and the rainbow lizard appear, he sensed something was amiss and immediately roared the order for an all-out assault.

Diro, Tuoba, and Tuoao shrieked in realization, Diro thrusting a finger at Ji Xia.

Tuoba and Tuoao hefted their weapons and charged at Ji Xia in great strides. Their movements were swift, tearing through the air and leaving ghostly afterimages; together with dozens of Bloodfang warriors behind them, their charge carried the momentum of a massive army.

Ji Hao gripped his spear tightly, eyeing Tuoba and Tuoao with nervous tension.

Ji Xia placed a steadying hand on Ji Hao’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “Do not act. Trust your mother! Hao, your mother has a gentle temper, but if she truly loses her patience, even your father is afraid.”

As if to confirm her words, a blanket of gray mist surged over the ground, swiftly enveloping Cold Creek Valley and the surrounding forests for dozens of miles. Tuoba and Tuoao, weaving through the mist, stumbled as if drunken, their steps growing faltering and chaotic.

Diro and his men were only a few hundred yards from Ji Xia and Ji Hao; with their strength, Tuoba and Tuoao could have closed the distance in the blink of an eye. But with the gray mist in place, the space between them seemed to stretch endlessly. No matter how long Tuoba, Tuoao, and their warriors ran, they remained hundreds of yards away from their targets.

Within the gray haze, countless shadowy figures appeared, their forms vague and twisted, radiating an aura of malevolence. Their faces were blurred, their features indistinct, yet all who beheld them felt an uncanny sensation—as if those eyes, wide and hungry, watched Tuoba, Tuoao, and their followers like a pack of wolves.

Whirlpools of gray mist spun up, enveloping the figures of a dozen Bloodfang warriors; when the mist dissipated, those warriors had vanished without a trace. Only their armor and weapons remained, not even a single hair left behind.

Diro stood frozen, his eyes wide in disbelief, as raging currents of wind circled him like blades, shielding him tightly. Yet faced with the gray mist and these unimaginable beings, he was helpless, lacking any means to counter them.

“Shamanic magic—so this is the true witchcraft of the ancient rites?” Diro gritted his teeth, his eyes flickering in turmoil.

The Blackwater Wujiao gazed uneasily into the distance, muttering to himself, “Grandfather, where are you? These mountain spirits and water ghosts—I cannot handle them alone! Where are you? Only you can drive them away; only then can we kill Ji Xia!”

Three hundred miles away, in a deep ravine, a gigantic raven with a wingspan of over fifty yards floated silently in the air.

A hazy glow of firelight enveloped the giant raven, and beneath its belly, three sharp talons gleamed coldly. Atop the raven’s head stood an old man clad in animal pelts and crowned with a beast-skull helm, gripping a bone staff, gazing coldly down in silence.

Unlike the other old shamans of the Fire Raven Tribe, this elder was tall and powerfully built, standing half a head taller than Ji Xia—well over four meters, a veritable giant. The bone staff in his hand was over two yards long and as thick as a grown man’s thigh; it was more like a battering ram than a staff of magic.

Coiled in formation below, a one-hundred-yard-long, one-horned serpent spat poisonous mist and icy breath toward the three-legged raven in the sky.

The elder who had, together with the Blackwater Wujiao, captured Jiang Xue alive on that day now stood atop the serpent’s head, eyeing the giant raven and the elder above with deep apprehension.

“Ji Zhuo, I did not expect you to come here. What is your Fire Raven Tribe up to? Since you are personally protecting Ji Xia, why did you have him removed from the position of war chief?”

Ji Zhuo snorted heavily, barking out in a rough voice, “This is the Fire Raven Tribe’s family matter. What does it have to do with you stinking worms?”

“Leave, or die here! Though it won’t be easy to kill you, I’d very much like to try!”

With a heavy stamp of his foot, Ji Zhuo signaled the three-legged giant raven, which opened its beak and unleashed a torrent of viscous, golden-red flames that poured down from the sky like a flood.