Quinn Shepherd, Warren Moran, Cindy Mu, and Ronnie Long were all badly beaten, unable to move. Ronnie’s legs were shattered, Cindy was knocked out cold, Warren’s bones felt like they’d been smashed to gravel, and Quinn’s worst wound came from that punch he took while shadow-stepping—almost enough to break him apart even in his shadow form.
Ronnie Long lay there with his neck twisted at an odd angle, tongue hanging out. He’d managed to wrench his own neck during that last desperate move—nearly snapped it clean off.
He lay there and watched the Dragon-Qilin lumber over, tongue lolling. The beast slathered him with a wet swipe, flipping him over like a pancake, then gave him another lick for good measure. Ronnie’s tongue still hung out, refusing to go back in.
The Dragon-Qilin kept at it, licking Ronnie until he was soaked through and through.
His whole body tingled and itched—that raw, aching itch that comes when bones knit and tendons reconnect. Panicking, he channeled his yuanqi, trying to set his bones straight before they healed crooked.
If he messed up the alignment, he’d be stuck crooked forever, healed but all bent out of shape. That would be a disaster.
Warren Moran lay nearby, watching as Ronnie got slathered in drool. The Dragon-Qilin’s tongue was like a giant spatula, flipping their senior brother over and over as if afraid he’d get burnt. Warren couldn’t help but snort and giggle.
The boy laughed so hard his wounds burst open, tears streaming down his face from the pain.
Then the Dragon-Qilin lumbered over, tongue out. Warren’s laughter died instantly as the beast’s sticky, furry tongue draped over his face like a wet blanket, rolling him over just like Ronnie.
After dealing with Warren, the Dragon-Qilin turned to the unconscious Cindy Mu, giving her a thorough lick that left her drenched. Cindy jolted awake, mortified, but chose to keep playing dead rather than face the embarrassment.
The Dragon-Qilin lumbered toward Quinn, who weakly protested, "Don’t lick me! Ronnie, how’s your leg holding up? There’s a jade vial of dragon spittle in my Glutton Dragon Pouch—just rub a little on me and I’ll be fine…"
"Lick him! Big Fatty—Big Dragon, you’ve got to lick him too!" Ronnie Long shouted hurriedly.
Warren Moran nodded furiously. "We all got licked—no way he gets a pass! Big Dragon, go for it!"
Cindy Mu popped open her eyes, dropping the act and laughing, "Share the good times, share the bad—Dragon-Qilin, get him!"
Quinn’s face went pale as he tried to crawl away. The Dragon-Qilin pinned his pant leg with one paw. Unable to budge, Quinn snapped, "Dragon-Fat, I’m covered in poison! If you lick me, you’ll be dead in seconds—bleeding from every orifice!"
The Dragon-Qilin hesitated, but the other three burst out laughing. "Who puts poison on themselves? Dragon-Fat, go ahead and lick him! If you croak, we’ll handle the burial!"
Relieved, the Dragon-Qilin gave Quinn a thorough licking—flipping him upside-down, soaking him completely. After all, Quinn was his food master, so he had to be extra careful, licking him with more care than anyone else.
Quinn’s face turned ashen as he got flipped and slathered over and over. He didn’t even struggle—just lay there, resigned to his fate.
The Dragon-Qilin pulled back his tongue, noticed Quinn’s hair was a mess, and carefully licked it smooth until it gleamed.
"Enough, Dragon-Fat…"
Quinn, deadpan, said, "That’s enough. Seriously, stop licking… There, it’s perfect, okay? Please, just stop."
Seeing him get mad, the Dragon-Qilin reluctantly pulled his tongue back and sat beside Quinn, front paws together like a loyal dog.
A stubborn lock of hair drooped over Quinn’s left eye. The Dragon-Qilin hesitated, glanced at Quinn’s thunderous expression, then couldn’t help himself—his tongue darted out and licked the hair back in place.
Quinn lost it.
…
The giant stag sprawled on the ground, all four legs broken. Earlier, Quinn and the others had shrunk down and battled the Dragon-Keeper Lord atop him, leaving the poor beast battered but thankfully still alive—just badly hurt.
Seeing the Dragon-Qilin heal Quinn, the stag puckered his lips and called out, "Hey, Fatty, lick me! Lick me!"
"Pfft!"
The Dragon-Qilin spat out a mouthful of dragon spittle in front of the stag, puffed up with pride. "Rub it on yourself!"
The stag fumed, but healing came first. He awkwardly shuffled over and rubbed his wounds in the dragon spittle, wincing with every move.
Watching the stag wriggle around in his spit, the Dragon-Qilin felt deeply satisfied. "This dead deer always shows me up in front of my food master—let’s see him embarrass me now!"
For Dragon-Qilin, this was better than any meal or curry favor—pure bliss, right here and now.
Gradually, Quinn and the others regained some strength, sitting up and circulating their yuanqi to flush out internal bruising and prevent lasting injuries.
The three Little Jade Capital disciples had medical training too, but compared to Quinn, their skills were a bit lacking—too rough around the edges.
Quinn forced out his own bruising, then used yuanqi to squeeze out the bone fragments bit by bit. With a low shout, he sent his Primordial Spirit flying out to inspect every inch of his body and the state of his divine treasuries.
He examined himself with meticulous care, then pulled his Primordial Spirit back in, swallowed a few Spirit Buddha Pills to quickly replenish his energy, and started refining medicine to treat hidden injuries.
"Primordial Spirit!" Cindy Mu blurted out, her face full of shock.
Warren Moran and Ronnie Long were just as stunned—Quinn shouldn’t be able to form a Primordial Spirit at his current level, yet here he was, pulling it off!
Quinn’s Primordial Spirit was still faint, almost like a shadow, but it was definitely real.
Forming a Primordial Spirit at the Six Directions level gave Quinn a huge head start in cultivation. He’d progress much faster than others, and since Primordial Spirit was a key combat technique after reaching the Heaven-Man realm, starting early was a massive advantage!
Just now, when Quinn used his Primordial Spirit to inspect himself, it left everyone baffled—they had no idea how he’d pulled it off.
"The Human Emperor really is something else—I’m totally convinced," someone muttered.
Ronnie Long sighed, "Forming a Primordial Spirit at Six Directions, and even sending it out of your body… The Human Emperor’s talent and insight really are unmatched!"
Quinn shook his head and walked over to Cindy Mu to check her injuries. "I’m not some unrivaled genius. Forming a Primordial Spirit at Six Directions isn’t that amazing—Lynn did it too. It’s not that hard. We both kind of stumbled into it, and then our Primordial Spirits popped out."
Ronnie Long was speechless and just shook his head.
Warren Moran said seriously, "So the Sixth Princess of Everpeace has a Primordial Spirit too? That country’s no joke—the younger generation is packed with talent. If we just sit in Little Jade Capital and stagnate, we’ll get left behind!"
He grew anxious. Little Jade Capital had tons of divine arts, each one strong enough to start a sect, but Everpeace’s reforms were blazing ahead. Laws, dao, even divine abilities were changing fast—if Little Jade Capital didn’t keep up, they’d be obsolete.
Like Quinn and Lynn Ling’s dual cultivation—forming Primordial Spirits at Six Directions. That’s a sign the whole system is shifting.
Quinn and Lynn hadn’t realized their breakthrough would shake the whole cultivation world. If they figured out a method and spread it, they’d be hailed as grandmasters—on par with the Imperial Preceptor, maybe even surpassing him!
The Imperial Preceptor’s creation of the three basic sword forms was another sign of change, laying the foundation for his status as a grandmaster.
But forming a Primordial Spirit at Six Directions was even more important than those sword forms—it would benefit every cultivator. Every realm—Six Directions, Seven Stars, Heaven-Man, Life-Death, Divine Bridge—would see a huge leap in power!
Warren shared his thoughts with Quinn, who paused and said, "I hadn’t thought of that… but you’re right. Once we get back to the capital, I’ll talk it through with Lynn—maybe we’ll crack the secret."
He used his Bixiao Heaven Eye to scan Cindy Mu inside and out, spotting all sorts of hidden injuries. Then he refined a spirit pill and handed it to her to take.
Cindy felt a little embarrassed under his scrutiny, reminding herself, "He’s a miracle doctor… he’s a miracle doctor…"
Then she heard Quinn mutter under his breath, "Women’s bodies are built different from men’s… They don’t have that thing, so how do they pee…?"
Cindy’s cheeks flushed bright red and she glared at him.
Quinn hurried over to check Ronnie Long’s injuries, and after a while, he’d finally healed both Ronnie and Warren Moran.
The Dragon-Qilin shuffled over and mumbled, "Cult Master, about these swords in me…"
He still had a dozen flying swords stuck in his body.
Quinn shot him a look and sneered, "Is my hair still messy?"
"Perfectly neat! Wait, there’s one stray hair…"
The Dragon-Qilin had just stuck out his tongue when Quinn flicked his fingers like a sword. Whoosh! More than a dozen flying swords shot out of the Dragon-Qilin’s body, blood spurting everywhere.
The Dragon-Qilin howled in pain.
"Why don’t you lick yourself now!" Quinn growled.
Still, he grabbed bottle after bottle of dragon spittle, poured it over the wounds, circulated his yuanqi to squeeze out the bruising and seal up the injuries.
The Dragon-Qilin tried to butter him up. "Cult Master, I did great this time—so, about my meals…"
Quinn ignored him and went to help the stag, who was in much worse shape—twice as many swords stuck in him, still wriggling around in dragon spittle.
Quinn shook his head, set the stag’s bones, poured out a dozen bottles of dragon spittle to stop the bleeding, and pulled out the swords one by one.
Warren Moran, feeling much better, ran over and picked up the stag’s antlers, sticking them back on his head.
"Young master, you put the antlers on backwards," the stag reminded him.
"Oh!"
Warren quickly yanked the antlers out, spraying blood everywhere. The stag howled in pain. Warren flipped the antlers around, jammed them back in, and begged Quinn for a bottle of dragon spittle for the wound.
Quinn treated the other flood-dragons too, busy for ages. Suddenly, outside, the sky blazed snow-white, then snapped pitch-black, then brightened again.
Everyone rushed to look outside. The torrential rain stopped, and a straight crack split the sky—like a giant sword had sliced it open!
"What’s that…?"
Quinn’s heart pounded as he murmured, "Solar-Shooting God Cannon…"
Red threads suddenly rained down from the cracked sky. Quinn reached out to catch one, but his face fell and he dodged aside at the last second.
The red threads drizzled down in front of the palace, and wherever they landed, flowers burst into bloom and wild grass shot up everywhere.
Heavenly blood fell, as if High Heaven itself were weeping.
A god had fallen.