In the Peach Blossom Spring, peach blossoms were red and willows green.
The vivid, resplendent landscape of red peach blossoms and green willows suddenly seemed to spin like a whirlpool—spinning, writhing.
It appeared—the big boss was opening with a smooth little combo!
Shang Daoling propped his chin in midair, smiling: "Wow, what impressive magic. I'm so scared."
"Though this Illusion Arts is rather ugly. Take these colors—sigh, they're all so poorly coordinated, so gaudy. You've probably been cooped up here for over a century, building carts behind closed doors, never seeing how far the outside world's painting and calligraphy have progressed." To be fair, the Peach Blossom Spring conjured by the serpent monster was far inferior to the peach blossom painting he'd seen at the Calligraphy and Painting Bureau that day.
And even more inferior to the Lotus Heaven Enlightenment of the Vast Sea Map that painter had presented to him.
He had just thought of that so-called Lotus Heaven painting when Lotus Heaven already spoke in his ear: "You're too reckless, little Shang. Stop showing off and pay attention to the battle."
Show off less—villains die from talking too much.
Of course, he wasn't just a villain but also the male lead. The ordinary rule that villains die from talking too much probably didn't apply to him, but seeing him so reckless, she couldn't help but feel mischievous and want to poke at him.
"You're so busy mocking this Green-Ringed Sea Serpent Plus Pro Max that you haven't even noticed the others charging up to attack."
Sure enough, the next moment, peach red, willow green, water blue, apricot yellow—countless vivid colors in the illusion transformed into pillars of light that shot toward him, swift and fierce, stirring up gusts of bloody wind, shaking the earth and mountains.
Shang Daoling dodged with a few flashes, easily evading the dense assault.
His crimson robe fluttered in the wind as he leisurely came to a stop inside a stone cave. As it happened, the cave was painted with murals—auspicious clouds swirling, heavenly light shining everywhere. Against the backdrop of the painting, he truly seemed like a graceful crimson roaming dragon soaring through the clouds.
He was heard to laugh: "Sect Leader, your words are mistaken. Of course I knew it was preparing to attack. I merely—wanted to see what abilities it had. As for me, I most enjoy waiting until my prey has exhausted all its tricks before slowly torturing them, slowly killing them."
Oh really? Don't just be putting up a tough front again!
Over there, the human face atop the giant serpent had already furrowed its brow slightly.
It seemed quite puzzled—why this superior prey it had deliberately lured in was still muttering to itself while in danger, wearing a leisurely attitude as if it didn't regard it at all.
The next moment, the human face's originally deliberately indifferent, downcast eyes suddenly snapped open, glaring over in fury—
More than a dozen enormous hands beneath its snow-white Daoist robe swung at Shang Daoling one after another. Shang Daoling sneered, swept his black sword, and in an instant severed five or six of its wrists. But in a flash, white grass leaves—or rather, white threads—wrapped around the severed wrists in tangled coils, and soon all its severed hands had regenerated. In just a few seconds, the serpent monster was full of vigor again, launching an even fiercer assault.
The gaudy illusion behind it also suddenly transformed into nests upon nests of vivid long serpents. The serpents pouring out of their nests filled nearly half the underground cavern, numbering no fewer than a hundred thousand. An endless stream of demonic serpents surged forward, and even with Shang Daoling's superb swordsmanship, a thin bead of sweat seeped onto his pale forehead.
Rong Chunsong interjected a few comments amid the chaos: "Looks like you've run into a demon that's imitating you—it can regenerate too. I told you, didn't I? Stop being so reckless. If you hadn't wasted time jabbering with it earlier and just gone straight for a fatal blow, none of this would've happened. Now it's unleashed a whole brood of snakes to bite you, and you can't even get close to it."
Shang Daoling's expression turned a bit cold: "Don't lump me together with this ugly thing, would you?"
This Ghost Immortal really was… Fine, then he'd show her what he was truly capable of. But just as he was about to channel his sword, two blurry white shadows suddenly appeared ahead.
White sword-wielding figures, cutting down the hundreds of long snakes surging toward him from his side.
Rong Chunsong thought to herself, Hm, where did these two people suddenly come from?
She tapped and tapped, zooming in on the image to take a look. She'd seen the sword technique they were using in a sword manual. Could they be the vengeful spirits of that pair of senior and junior disciples from the Youtian Sect? In just a few seconds, she'd already formed a conjecture. Their spirits still lingered here—was it to help outsiders who'd strayed into this place, or were they waiting for someone who could thoroughly defeat this snake demon? Ah.
Despite the unexpected aid, Shang Daoling's expression was anything but pleased.
Two meddlesome ghosts had actually shown up to ruin his hunting game… and right when he'd wanted to show off in front of that woman.
Usually he could tolerate that Ghost Immortal's interference, but for two random wandering ghosts from who-knows-where, he had no such patience.
He gripped the pitch-black sword hilt tightly for an instant, and a crimson radiance surged upward—like fire, like flame, like blood-soaked red lotuses—sweeping across the entire underground cavern.
All the demon snakes were burned to ashes in that red light.
Shang Daoling narrowed his eyes slightly and looked. Not far away, the two white phantom figures stood on a cliff edge.
Those two ghosts had actually dodged—they hadn't been cut down along with the rest. They had some skill after all.
Seeing its kin and offspring all reduced to ashes, the giant snake let out a long shriek. But the moment it opened its mouth, countless yellow talisman paper cranes had already covered its tongue.
The paper cranes exploded one after another, blood splattering from the human face's mouth.
"There, much quieter now." Shang Daoling watched the giant snake's forked tongue blasted into a spray of blood and smiled with satisfaction.
The tongue was destroyed, yet the human face still let out hissing wails.
The handsome young man deliberately raised his open hand to his ear, making a gesture as if he were listening intently to sounds in the distance.
"What's that you said? Sorry, too quiet—I can't hear you."
The next moment, even more paper cranes exploded from the giant snake's mouth, boom after boom.
"That's more like it—speak up so I can hear you! Alright, alright, I heard you. You want me to kill you? I'll grant that wish soon enough."
Rong Chunsong genuinely felt this male lead was waaaaay too much like a villain. How could there be a protagonist who resembled a villain this much?
Whether it was popping champagne mid-battle or spouting arrogant trash talk with such gusto, he was exactly like those villain bosses who were destined to be struck down by justice.
Sure enough, provoked like this by him, the snake demon had already entered its second phase.
It raised all its winding limbs, each forming hand seals, like a thousand-armed Guanyin. The immortal cables flowing through its dozen or so hands blazed with brilliant light.
In the chaos of battle, his crown had been shattered, and his white hair floated in the magic light like a giant sea lily. But when the view zoomed in, one could see that among the white hair, there were countless pale-faced Wraiths. The Ghost Immortal beside him said, "This pair of master and disciple has been lingering here, no doubt waiting to defeat this demonic entity."
What a waste of concern. Who needed the help of these two ghosts?
Especially when he heard the Ghost Immortal say, "What a pity, what a pity, to see such a talented one fall."
What was there to pity? What was there to sympathize with? Was there no shame in those who had not mastered their craft?
With a flick of his long sword, several streaks of crimson Magic Light burst forth, and the giant serpent roared in fury.
The white-haired man and the Wraiths squeezed onto the rope all howled together, and the sea water surged with violent waves from half the underground cavern. The serpent submerged itself and moved swiftly—
[Prompt: The target has no legs and cannot be selected. The skill "Lotus Step Light Shift" cannot be used.]
Ah, forget it.
Then I'll use "Tender Hand of Soft Jade." I just drew it a few days ago. It just so happens this thing has over a dozen hands—perfect for it.
[Skill "Tender Hand of Soft Jade": After use, the target's hands become incomparably soft and tender, like the fresh shoots of early spring. Truly made of water's bones and jade's carved flesh, delicate as a newborn, naturally possessing a fragile, irresistible charm—the softest, lightest, most beautiful creation in all the world.]
With a ding, the serpent's massive hand, which had been rising from the pitch-black seawater, suddenly became weak and powerless, unable to attack. It drooped limply, as if idly playing with the water's surface.
Shang Daoling snorted, "No need for your help."
Though he said that, a faint smile curled at the corner of his lips.
What a perfect example of saying one thing while meaning another.
It was truly… annoying as hell. This little two-person cult of hers, just the two of them playing house, and she still had the audacity to pull rank on him every day with her precious hierarchy. Guest Fourteen, Left and Right Protectors—with his abilities, it would only take a month or two to surpass all that. She'd just wait and see.
The Wraiths clinging to that giant serpent were more formless than the snake-men, more ferocious than a thousand snakes.
The pain of hundreds of human faces gnawing at his arms—he paid it no mind at all.
This little scrap was nothing compared to being locked in that dungeon. Back then, that ox-nose Daoist's immortal sword had descended continuously, sawing through his arms without pause for twelve whole hours. This current pain was barely a tickle. What mattered more was making that Ghost Immortal take a good, long look at his skill.
With its serpent tongue blasted to shreds and all its arms severed, the enraged serpent fiend's white hair whipped wildly. From the sea surface rose a white storm of Wraith faces, like a tornado over the ocean. In an instant, it had spiraled hundreds of meters into the air.
But a crimson light seeped out from the very base of the storm.
Then, like a coiling red dragon, it erupted layer upon layer, surging straight to the summit. The red of vivid robes, the red of fresh blood, the red of the inferno—a ghost lantern's line revealed a peach-blossom face of red. In a gap between wind and wave, the young man's gorgeous features were half-shredded into indistinct flesh by the gnawing Wraiths, but the dripping blood, the everted meat, the ghastly white bone—all healed in an instant, leaving only traces of blood staining the corners of his eyes and brows, like two smears of rouge. Bathed in the red light, he was like a martial performer on stage, combining strength and beauty. Classical. Handsome. Eerie.
Shang Daoling let out a cold laugh.
The crimson light broke straight through the storm, piercing through the serpent's humanoid head in one strike, severing head from body. Just like its false idol.
The giant serpent crashed to the ground, but from its severed neck, white threads continued to emerge like silk being drawn, slowly stitching its wound back together.
Among the two white figures, the feminine one shouted at him: "Fellow Daoist, you need to cut open its back and pull out the white tendon!" Her voice was hollow and distant, as if carried on a desolate wind.
Fellow Daoist, my ass. Don't try to claim kinship with me.
Shang Daoling, being ordered around by someone else, felt quite displeased. But recalling that the Ghost Immortal wanted him to finish this quickly, his slender hand sheathed in black gloves had already drawn a dagger from the sheath strapped to his thigh. Cold light spun, plunging into the giant serpent's spine.
A flash of pigeon-blood red. Then, a vast spray of blood burst forth, splattering for miles.
Twirling lightly in the air, the red dagger that had sliced open the immense serpentine body landed back in a hand covered by a black glove.
Pulling out the gleaming white serpent tendon, Shang Daoling's black brocade boots stepped onto the serpent fiend's severed head. Satisfied, smug, he waited.
Corpses of snake-men strewn everywhere. The corpse of the colossal serpent. The wind carried a whiff of blood, stirring his excitement even further.
He wanted to hear what that Ghost Immortal would say.
A moment passed.
Her voice came, just as he'd expected, quickly.
"Little Shang, you really showed off again this time!"