Chapter 903: Chapter 532: The Brisk Autumn Air Invites Murder (Part 3)
Great Li Emperor’s Tomb, the central hall of the crypt.
The final nine breaths.
"Apart from that outsider warrior, I also envisioned another fellow’s Great Dao landscape."
High above, the purple-clad sword spirit gazed down at the heart lake below.
"If the outsider warrior’s Great Dao is the distinct divide between the evil dragon and the dragon carp, yin and yang coexisting, then the magic dragon slain and consumed by the warrior to complete his Great Dao also had a set of Dao techniques, related to... evil dragon and dragon carp."
Zhao Rong furrowed his brow, nodding lightly: "Six breaths."
Gui turned, arms behind his back, speaking directly: "What is a magic dragon? To become demonized. The dragon carp dives, crossing the alert line into the abyss, allowing an evil dragon within the abyss to swallow it... simple."
"Dragon carp turns into a magic dragon, elevating its physical and cultivation realm."
It spoke concisely.
The one-armed scholar of mid-Tranquility Realm heard this, took a deep breath, and exhaled two words: "Three breaths."
The sword spirit’s voice suddenly deepened.
"Nine breaths. Currently, your Dao dragon carp can only stay submerged for nine breaths. Even so, it comes at a great cost. Once nine breaths pass, I must help your dragon carp escape, or else... it won’t return."
Its speech was rapid.
"Zhao Rong, entering the martial path to grade, nine breaths, is it enough?"
After Tranquility Realm, warriors and Dao cultivators go their separate ways.
Dao cultivators focus on spiritual energy cultivation, grand Heavenly Will Golden Core...
Warriors continue refining their physique, climbing the nine grades of the martial path...
In the same realm, warriors are invincible in close combat.
Nine breaths into demonization, elevating the physique by one realm, is equivalent to... a Third Grade warrior.
The one-armed scholar carried a bloodied sword sheath in one hand, slowly walking into the blood circle drawn at the center of the hall.
He turned, rested the sheath on the ground, nodding his head lightly.
"Enough."
However, the sword spirit most familiar with this breeding evil dragon pool abyss, upon realizing its intervention might assist the one-armed scholar’s plan, didn’t relax but instead sighed softly for some unknown reason.
It turned its head away, no longer observing the harmonious coexistence of the dragon carp and evil dragon on the heart lake below.
The next moment.
Zhao Rong and Gui, both silent, looked towards the crypt entrance simultaneously.
There, a pitch-dark tomb passageway awaited.
The time had come.
The magnificent and dark hall.
Blood dripped from the one-armed scholar’s severed arm.
In the southeast corner, a flickering orange light swayed, casting the vertical shadow of a candle on the wall.
Everything... silent.
No sound came from outside.
No sound of the ’giant beast’ shaking the tomb’s restrictions!
Gui whispered, "That old brute, did it... leave?"
Zhao Rong stared at the quiet tomb passageway, silent.
The sword spirit’s tone involuntarily lifted, "Zhao Rong, did your wife or Zhu Yourong arrive in time? Scaring away or killing that old brute!"
Zhao Rong still remained silent.
He suddenly turned his head, looking at the lone candle in the southeast corner of the central hall.
Gui let out a big sigh of relief, noticing Zhao Rong’s oddity, curiously asking, "Say something, hey, what are you looking... at that ghostly lamp you put in the corner?"
"Huh, why is its flame always flickering, the body of the flames is crooked."
Zhao Rong stretched out three fingers, feeling something within the hall, and slowly turned his head.
He softly spoke: "There is wind."
The wind blew the candle.
Gui was startled, "Wind? Where did wind come from in this sealed crypt?"
The one-armed scholar felt a certain airflow from behind, turned, and scanned the area, finally... landing his gaze on the large dragon coffin.
Gui followed his gaze, suddenly exclaimed in surprise: "Wind from the dragon coffin?"
Zhao Rong looked around the secret crypt, then looked down at the dragon coffin from which wind leaked, pursing his lips.
No one knew what he was contemplating.
The sword spirit couldn’t help but repeat, "Wind leaking from the dragon coffin! Well done Zhao Rong, truly heaven does not seal off all paths, this truly is your destiny, meant not to perish!"
It exclaimed in delight: "Zhao Rong, there must be something strange inside, probably a hidden exit, otherwise where is the wind coming from? Quick, open it, investigate, see if we can escape! While that old brute outside hasn’t stirred, we must act quickly!"
Hearing the sword spirit’s hasty suggestion.
The one-armed scholar did not move.
He stood there for a moment, his calm gaze retracting from the dragon coffin as if nothing had happened.
Within the empty blood circle in the hall’s center, the one-armed scholar suddenly began another strange action.
Carrying the sword sheath, he continued to walk inside the blood circle.
His steps were halting, occasionally turning and twisting.
Dragging one end of the sheath on the ground, blood stained the floor along the way.
Zhao Rong’s movements were leisurely.
As if in no haste.
This time, he was no longer drawing a simple circle with the bloodied sword sheath but rather...
As his footsteps traced, dark red blood gradually sketched a peculiar pattern on the cold, black floor.
Gui gazed at this initially harmonious and beautiful pattern on the floor, but the more he looked, the more mysterious and eerie it seemed.
"This is..."
"A six-pointed star."
After the one-armed scholar completed the last stroke of the six-pointed star, he paused, answering silently in his heart.
Gui: "......???"
I understand every word you said, but what do they mean together!
Zhao Rong saw the sword spirit’s self-doubt and puzzlement, yet didn’t explain.
Of course, it did not recognize this; even before Gui fell, he was a mighty being wandering the unknown beyond.
But this six-pointed star pattern belonged to Zhao Rong’s past life, a world likely never seen in this realm, its ignorance normal, knowing it would be uncanny.
The one-armed scholar quietly laughed inside.
At this moment, in the crypt’s grand hall, from the ceiling looking down, one would see this scene:
Centered on the dragon coffin, a mysterious blood-red six-pointed star ’bloomed’ in all directions.
A blood circle connected the six points of the star, surrounding it and the dragon coffin.
In the southeast corner of the hall, a white candle burned silently, its flame flickering.
Once more, intimidated by the strange things the sword master brought out, the purple-clad sword spirit, always priding itself as a senior, felt unsatisfied, crossed its arms and remarked haughtily:
"What’s funny, what six-pointed star... a ghost rune, hey, should we go or not, open the coffin, why waste time drawing this thing?"
The one-armed scholar dragged the sword sheath, calmly walked into the blood-red six-pointed star, beside the dragon coffin, lightly leaping up, sitting atop.
Drawing eerie blood circles, sketching mysterious six-pointed stars, placing ominous ’ghost-blowing lamps’... certainly not for the sword spirit to see.
At this moment, in the crypt’s central hall.
He sat alone atop the dragon coffin, his white robe soaked in blood, laying the sword sheath across his knees, softly, "He’s already here."
"What do you mean ’he’..." The sword spirit began to say but abruptly stopped...
"What are you drawing?"
The one-armed scholar, facing the long, dark tomb passage, suddenly encountered an ancient, hoarse voice emerging.
An old, disfigured scholar leisurely walked out from the dark where he’d been standing for some time.
With a light laugh, he inquired.
...