Swish!
A streak of silver light sliced through the night, as gentle as the wind yet harboring a sharpness that seemed capable of severing space itself. Old Shadow, the commander of the Shadow Guards and a Foundation Establishment expert who had once caused countless storms in the underworld, had not even recovered from the shock of the Buddhist sonic wave before he felt a sudden, icy chill across his throat.
He stood frozen, slowly lowering his head. A vivid crimson line gradually materialized across his neck. The pitch-black daggers slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a sharp clatter. He raised his hands to his throat, as if desperately trying to hold onto his final shred of life force, but it was futile. The light in his eyes rapidly faded. The gaunt frame of a grand expert collapsed silently beneath the ancient Bodhi tree.
Uncle Sword retracted his blade. The ordinary wooden sword remained unsullied by a single drop of blood. He looked at the corpse at his feet; in his eyes, there was no joy, only a profound sorrow. For such an expert to willingly become a hunting dog for another, only to meet his end at the gates of Buddha... it was truly a tragedy.
With their leader slain, the will of the remaining Shadow Guards completely crumbled. They ceased to be mindless killing machines, reverting to panicked, headless beasts frantically seeking a path of escape. But the Arhat Array of the surviving monks shifted from defense to encirclement. The assassins' fate was sealed.
Uncle Sword paid no heed to the aftermath. He turned and walked toward the meditation room. Lam Vy had already run out, her eyes red-rimmed. "Uncle Sword, are you alright?"
"I am fine," he shook his head. "But I fear the matters here... are not yet concluded."
Both his gaze and Lam Vy's simultaneously shifted toward the main hall, where Grandmaster Phap Chan remained seated as if nothing had occurred.
Meanwhile, at the Manor of the Marquis of Vinh An.
The secret chamber was gloomy and bone-chilling. Tao Chinh and Black Crow stood before the eerie altar, their expressions extremely grave. The altar was not carved from stone; it appeared to be cast from the bones of innumerable unknown creatures. It was pitch-black, engraved with ancient Shamanic runes that writhed like crawling worms. At its four corners stood four demonic skull statues; within their hollow eye sockets, emerald-green flames flickered weakly.
And in the very center, the largest emerald flame blazed ferociously. It emitted no heat; conversely, it radiated a yin-cold, evil aura that felt capable of sucking a person's very soul into it.
"This... this is the 'Altar of the Seven Souls'!" Tao Chinh, a man of vast knowledge, recognized it with horror. "It is the most wicked altar in legend, used to sacrifice souls and commune with existences in another realm! Vinh An... what was he trying to do?"
"Lord, the Marquis is nowhere to be seen!" Black Crow reported.
Tao Chinh narrowed his eyes, an incredibly ominous premonition settling over him. He circled the altar, observing carefully. Then, he stopped at a hidden corner in the rear.
There, a figure clad in imperial robes sat cross-legged, his back facing them. But the figure possessed not a shred of vitality. The entire body had withered into a desiccated husk; all blood-qi and the soul itself had seemingly been drained dry.
It was the Marquis of Vinh An!
He had not escaped. He had offered himself as the final sacrifice!
"He was mad!"
But it was already too late. The central emerald flame, having absorbed the entirety of the Marquis's life force and Foundation Establishment cultivation base, suddenly erupted violently, soaring several zhang high.
From within the flames, a raspy, ancient, and bewitching laughter echoed out—a laughter that did not belong to the Marquis.
"Excellent! Bravo for a loyal dog! My centuries of nurturing you were not in vain. Your life force shall serve as the finest nutrient for my descent."
The emerald flame slowly contracted, transforming into an ethereal silhouette. It was an old man clad in a black robe far more ancient than the current dynasty. His face was obscured; only his eyes—two flickering orbs of emerald fire—were visible.
"Descendants of Lac Viet... the Sword Cultivator of the Duke's Estate... the rats of the Six-Feathered Gate..." The ethereal figure swept his gaze over Tao Chinh and Black Crow. "You performed a very entertaining play. But it is time for the curtain to fall."
"Who are you?!" Tao Chinh roared, drawing his saber as the majestic aura of a grand expert erupted from him.
"Me?" The ethereal figure laughed, a smile full of condescension. "I am an existence you can never hope to resist."
"I," he ground out each word, "am one of the Twelve Sacred Envoys of the 'Sacred Dynasty'."
"I have come today to reclaim a few things that rightfully belong to us."
Having spoken, he wasted no more words. He merely gave his sleeve a light flick. The entire manor shook violently. The Altar of the Seven Souls suddenly shattered. An earth-shattering surge of black miasma erupted from beneath the ground, transforming into a colossal black dragon. It roared, piercing straight into the azure sky, flying toward an unknown destination.
"That is..."
"The Dragon Veins! He has extracted a portion of the capital's Dragon Veins!" Tao Chinh cried out in horror.
The ethereal Sacred Envoy laughed uproariously. "This is merely a bit of interest. The true game has only just begun. Deliver this message to that descendant of Lac Viet: the legacy of his ancestors will, sooner or later, belong to the Sacred Dynasty. Tell him... to wash his neck and wait."
With those words, the ethereal figure turned into a wisp of green smoke and dissipated into the air, as if he had never existed.
Tao Chinh stood there, stunned, his entire body running cold. He knew that in this game, though they had defeated the Marquis of Vinh An, they had provoked an existence ten thousand times more terrifying. A true tempest was about to descend upon all of Dai Viet.