Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Blood Moon

It was as if, in a warm, comfortable bed scented with sunlight, someone had suddenly stuffed hundreds of venomous cobras inside. An indescribable chill, damp and cold, surged up along his spine straight to his skull. Ji Hao's pores opened wide, the vital energy of heaven and earth poured into his body, and the Fire Wings of Flowing Light burst open behind him with a deafening crack. He summoned all his strength, racing down the steps at full speed.

It wasn’t that the guards had abandoned their posts; they had all been eliminated. Torrential rain had washed away every trace—no blood, no scent of gore remained. Yet, in their dying moments, the guards’ souls had pulsed violently, stubbornly leaving faint traces near the gateway. Guided by the shadow’s warning, Ji Hao—whose spiritual sense was keener than even the most formidable shamans of the Southern Wilderness tribes—finally detected the lingering chill of souls extinguished near the archway.

The Nine Words Mantra, refined through the Soul-Tempering Pill Scripture, connects with the cosmos and holds infinite mysteries. Ji Hao activated the secret techniques with all his might; his Violet Mansion Pill spun at full speed, waves of soul power spreading outward like an invisible net. Instantly, he “saw” the palpable murderous intent in the air, almost solidified.

He unleashed the Fire Wings of Flowing Light at full strength and fled at top speed, clutching the petite Manman tightly. His body left behind a trail of afterimages; in a blink, he shattered the air with a thunderous “bang,” unleashing nine successive white shockwaves. In a flash, he reached the broken steps high above, and in another moment, he would dash down the long staircase and escape into the dense woods by the lake.

Even then, Ying Yan and the dozen accompanying guards had not reacted. They were powerful, their status exalted; they represented the supreme authority of the Southern Wilderness. In truth, these guards were often little more than servants. As for Ying Yan, his origins were extraordinary, his position beside Manman akin to that of a “grand chamberlain.” In his life, he had never engaged in bloody combat.

In terms of combat experience, Ying Yan and all the guards combined couldn’t match even a tenth of Ji Hao’s. Ji Hao had already escaped hundreds of yards before Ying Yan, bewildered and panicked, finally turned around and shouted, “Ji Hao, you little monkey, what madness are you up to?”

Completely off guard, Ying Yan suddenly caught a faint whiff of blood. The ancient bronze talisman at his waist, engraved with the totem of a three-headed mountain fowl, abruptly lit up. The eyes of the three-headed fowl on the token emitted brilliant green light, swiftly wrapping around Ying Yan.

“Is this...witch poison?” Ying Yan touched his nose, green blood dripping continuously from his nostrils. At first, it was a light green, but in a heartbeat, it deepened to dark green, reeking with a sharp, fishy odor.

Witch poison—not just any, but the most fast-acting, fierce, and deadly of all venomous insect toxins. Ying Yan was no expert, but his nearly thousand years of experience told him this was a blend of at least a hundred poisonous insects.

Such a concoction, blending over a hundred toxins into a terrifying witch poison, was a secret art only inherited by the grand shamans of major tribes like the Bifang or Vermilion Bird in the Southern Wilderness. Lesser tribes could never master such profound techniques, nor had the resources or power to produce such deadly poison.

Faced with the sudden witch poison attack, Ying Yan’s bronze token acted on its own to protect its master, blocking further invasion. Yet a trace of poison had already seeped in, leaving him weakened—his strength diminished by thirty percent.

“Which tribe are you from? Do you intend to rebel?” Ying Yan shouted furiously, not taking any other measures. “Do you realize, if you harm the young mistress, your entire tribe will be wiped out?”

Ji Hao clutched Manman tightly as he fled, fully aware that Manman must not die—at least not while he served as her guard. From his brief acquaintance these past days, Ji Hao knew if this little girl perished, the Fire Crow tribe would face her father’s brutal retribution.

He ran with all his might, and as he did, he heard Ying Yan still shouting threats at the attackers. Ji Hao sighed deeply. The guards had already been slaughtered, their resolve clear—who would heed threats now?

With a single stride, Ji Hao’s figure blurred, trailing afterimages as he was about to dash down the steps.

Suddenly, the sky darkened. A massive, blood-red moon appeared overhead. Thousands of bloody streams descended from the moon, forming a vast net that sealed off the area for miles around.

Ji Hao collided headlong with one of the bloody streams. A resilient, viscous force wrapped around him from all sides, gently bouncing him back. Dizzy and disoriented, he staggered back hundreds of steps, panting hard, forcibly returned to the palace steps.

“Moon...Blood Moon?” Ji Hao looked up in horror at the enormous crimson moon.

“Moon?” Manman looked at Ji Hao in confusion. “What’s a ‘moon’?”

Ji Hao said nothing.

In the night sky of the Southern Wilderness, only countless stars twinkled—there was no moon as Ji Hao remembered, ruling the night sky. Thus, for Manman, the concept of “moon” was entirely foreign; it was the first time she’d heard the word, spoken by Ji Hao.

Ji Hao stared fixedly at the blood moon above. Though it was his first time seeing it, he instinctively called it a “moon.” Yet the blood moon overhead seemed not to be a physical object, but a phantom shadow.

Dim blood mist replaced the fog brought by the torrential rain, rising slowly from the ground. Within the crimson haze, hulking figures emerged one by one, like fierce ghosts.

Clad in heavy armor, every inch of skin but their cheeks encased, the warriors of the Ka Clan grinned menacingly, four shining eyes on their faces glowing with hellish light.

Ji Hao glanced quickly—more than a thousand Ka Clan warriors surged from all sides.

“Four-eyed?” Ying Yan barked, “Ka Clan fiends? You dare! Your past incursions into the Southern Wilderness, kidnapping our people, were already a capital offense. Now you attack our young mistress—do you court death?”

“Done is done—do you think we’re afraid?” Emperor Luo laughed flippantly, strolling out of the mist with a crimson rose in hand. He gave Ji Hao a vicious smile from afar and said leisurely, “That little girl is quite lovely—she’ll fetch a fine price, won’t she?”

Ying Yan roared in fury, and Emperor Luo suddenly pointed skyward. The blood moon flashed, and a streak of crimson light shot down. Ying Yan screamed in agony as his left arm was severed at the shoulder, blood spraying.

The blood moon spun slightly, another flash of crimson. Ying Yan had just drawn a blood jade talisman, but before he could crush it, a streak of blood light cleaved him cleanly in two.

Blood splattered everywhere, his organs spilled across the ground, and even his soul was utterly annihilated by the blood light.

***
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