Chapter 105: Myriad Forms of Dragon Abyss, Revealing the Ancient Yellow

The tremor of the Dragon Abyss's earth pulse stirred up a three-thousand-zhang magma wave. Lu Qingyang, clutching his bleeding right arm, sank to the ground beneath the Dragon Suppression Pillar. The taotie patterns on the surface of the nine bronze pillars were awakening, and ancient shamanic blood, reeking of rust, seeped from every line.

Thirty zhang away, Chijiao Guard Commander Ao Lie cracked his Dragon Scale Whip, splitting the rock wall. From the flying debris, a disheveled old beggar suddenly emerged—this fellow actually used a chipped clay bowl to catch the scorching magma. As he tilted his head to drink, a snake-shaped tattoo on his Adam's apple glowed faintly.

“Hot wine with Dragon blood, how wonderful!” The old beggar wiped sparks from his beard, then suddenly slammed the clay bowl towards Ao Lie’s face.

The Chijiao Guard Commander retreated three zhang in horror, as if he had seen something terrifying. His body was struck by a powerful force, sending him flying backward uncontrollably.

Just as he retreated, the magma that had been in the bowl suddenly seemed to come alive, rapidly solidifying into a blazing fire snake. This fire snake, with astonishing speed, coiled around the Chijiao Guard Commander's Dragon horn, wrapping tightly and preventing him from breaking free.

The Chijiao Guard Commander's eyes widened, staring at the scene before him in disbelief. He recognized the origin of this fire snake and couldn't help but exclaim, “Drunken Old Man of the South Sea? You old immortal are still alive!” His voice was filled with shock and fear.

Lu Qingyang seized the opportunity to roll towards the bronze altar in the southeast corner, his Qingming Sword knocking away three broken steles engraved with star maps. The moment the inscriptions flew into the air, Wanbao Louzhu Su Meiniang's Flow Splitting Thorn grazed his ear and pierced into the altar. A pearl from her coral hairpin fell and rolled into a crack in the ground, activating a dormant Ancient Witch Puppet Formation.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently, accompanied by dull rumbling sounds. Twelve bronze corpse Puppets, like bamboo shoots after rain, burst out from underground. They were covered in thick copper rust, exuding an ancient and decaying aura.

Just as people were astonished, there was a sudden movement in the chest cavity of the third bronze corpse Puppet. A hand, like white jade, slowly extended from within. The hand was as warm and smooth as mutton-fat jade, forming a stark contrast with the surrounding bronze.

The owner of this hand was none other than Hehuan Sect Saintess Yunshang, disguised as a corpse Puppet! Her appearance caught everyone off guard; who could have imagined such a beautiful woman hidden within this seemingly terrifying corpse Puppet?

Yunshang's fingertips held a peach blossom note, which was emitting a cloud of pink mist. Amidst the swirling smoke, a faint fragrance wafted. Her lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile as she looked at everyone and softly said, “Little Lord’s blood smells sweeter than Dragon marrow.”

A Dragon roar echoed from deep within the earth pulse. Third Prince Ao Qin, stepping on his Heaven Burning Halberd, broke through the rock layers. Behind him followed a green-robed scholar carrying a zither, each string of the Scorched Tail Zither wrapped with a Flood Dragon tendon.

“How does Elder Yin Jiuyou’s corpse poison taste?” The scholar’s lips curled into a playful smile. He gently plucked the shang string of his zither, and the string produced a clear sound, like a celestial melody.

However, these seemingly beautiful notes contained endless killing intent. The sound waves, like an invisible force, swept over with astonishing speed, heading straight for Lu Qingyang.

Lu Qingyang’s face changed drastically. He felt the terrifying power of these sound waves and quickly channeled all his cultivation to try and block the attack. However, the blood clot he had just formed instantly shattered under the impact of the sound waves, and blood gushed out again.

“Ah!” Lu Qingyang screamed, his body uncontrollably flying backward, crashing heavily against the wall, then collapsing to the ground.

Seeing this, the scholar slowly put away the shang string, his smile growing brighter: “I am Mo Xian from Tianji Pavilion, here to claim Your Excellency’s head for wine money.” His voice was calm and indifferent, as if this was a trivial matter.

The entire Dragon Abyss suddenly fell into an eerie balance. The remnants of the Witch Tribe in the northwest corner were carving a blood sacrifice Formation, the scarred man leading them chanting obscure incantations with each stroke; in the southeast, the Loose Cultivator Alliance's Flying Swords formed an Eight Trigram Formation, and the leading old Daoist priest swept away the magma rain with his whisk.

In the northeast corner, Shadow Pavilion assassins quietly appeared, their black robes embroidered with silver threads bearing the number “37”—these figures restrained each other yet harbored their own ulterior motives, like magma raindrops solidified by the Dragon Suppression Pillar's magnetic field, ready to collapse at any moment.

“It’s so lively, everyone,” Lu Qingyang suddenly tore open his blood-stained robe, revealing a flashing Witch Tribe blood talisman over his heart, “Why not bet on who gets this first?” He flicked three fire marrow pearls, stolen from Ao Lie’s Dragon horns, with his finger. The pearls landed to form a Three Talents Formation.

The old beggar's clay bowl, Yunshang's peach blossom note, and Mo Xian's zither string struck simultaneously. The shockwave from the collision of the three spiritual powers overturned three bronze corpse Puppets—from the abdominal cavity of one of them dropped half a scroll of the “Witch Canon.” As the pages scattered, the revealed spring palace illustrations surprisingly concealed ancient Formations.

Su Meiniang suddenly giggled and threw out a golden silk net. Each bell on the net was engraved with a different School emblem: “Why must you heroes resort to violence?” The various sect tokens falling from the net smashed towards the blood sacrifice Formation. The scarred man roared and swung his knife, cutting the golden silk. Among the splashing fragments were hidden Shadow Pavilion's Soul Chasing Nails.

Lu Qingyang took the opportunity to plunge the Qingming Sword into the Formation's eye. The sword reflected the Mysterious Grey Robed Man twenty zhang away, who had been observing with cold eyes all along—this person had not uttered a single word from beginning to end, but his shadow had three heads and six arms more than others.

The dome of Dragon Abyss completely collapsed at this moment. The Nine Heavens' fierce winds, carrying meteor fragments, crashed into the battlefield. Lu Qingyang pulled Yunshang's scarf and swung towards the top of the Dragon Suppression Pillar, while Mo Xian's zither music, pursuing him from behind, sliced through three stalagmites.

When his fingertip touched the groove at the top of the pillar, the earth pulse Spiritual Qi of the entire Dragon Abyss suddenly reversed. All the Cultivators' Magic Treasures began to hum uncontrollably—the old beggar's wine gourd spurted weak water, Ao Lie's Dragon Scale Whip bloomed with ice flowers, and even the Mysterious Grey Robed Man's shadow twisted into an ancient totem.

“So that’s how it is!” A trace of blood spilled from Lu Qingyang's lips, yet he laughed wildly, his laughter mixed with violent coughing, each cough sounding as if he was about to cough out his lungs.

He laboriously raised his hand and slowly pressed the last half of the bronze key into the top of the pillar. In an instant, the nine Dragon Suppression Pillars seemed to be activated, suddenly projecting a giant star map. The star map shimmered with mysterious light, as if it were a microcosm of the Universe, dazzling to the eye.

However, what was even more shocking was that this star map clearly reflected the bronze giant gate, which was awakening a thousand li away! That door was tightly shut, but from its crack, a skeletal hand extended. The hand was dry and pale, as if it had endured long ages.

Most surprisingly, the skeletal hand wore a Witch Tribe ring, which was identical to the Garland on Su Meiniang's chest! This discovery made everyone gasp, and countless questions and speculations arose in their minds.