Cindy Mu asked, "Has this place been invaded by the Great Ruins? Otherwise, why must we leave before nightfall?"
Quinn Shepherd shook his head and didn't elaborate.
The group waited outside the hall for a moment. Suddenly, the sky darkened and thunder rumbled faintly. Quinn looked up to see that, though it had just been sunny, thick storm clouds were now rolling in from nowhere.
It was already winter, and the cold weather rarely brought thunder—let alone lightning. Yet these sudden clouds came with thunder.
The clouds grew denser and heavier, blotting out the sky. Then a torrential rain poured down. Everyone hurried to shelter under the eaves; the rain was relentless and icy cold.
Even in this season, any rain should have been light, but now it was a downpour.
A dozen flood‑dragons crowded together, coiling around the bronze pillars to avoid the rain. Dragon‑Qilin napped at the doorway, where he could stay dry.
The stag trotted over to Dragon‑Qilin, lowered its head, and used its antlers to flip Dragon‑Qilin out of the doorway, then lay down in his spot.
Dragon‑Qilin was furious at being tossed out and soaked by the rain. He stomped over, jaws wide, ready to bite. The stag leapt up, shaking its massive antlers, ready for a fight.
Suddenly, steam began to rise from the ground. Long Yu reached out to catch a handful of rainwater and exclaimed in surprise, "The rain is hot!"
Quinn's heart stirred slightly. He reached out—and sure enough, the rain falling from the sky was boiling hot, scalding like water fresh from the fire!
He hurried out from under the eaves, unleashing his yuanqi to force the rain to part on either side, keeping it from touching him.
Looking up, he saw the sky had turned pitch-black. Lightning rolled through the clouds, thunder rumbling from a thousand li away, racing overhead at incredible speed before rolling off to the other side—covering more than two thousand li in a blink!
This wasn't the sound of ordinary thunder!
Warren Moran and the others also stepped out from under the eaves, craning their necks to watch. The storm clouds grew thicker and more ominous—bolts of lightning crisscrossed the darkness, slicing open the clouds in a terrifying display.
And the rain from the sky was growing even hotter.
"Something's happening up there... Dragon-Qilin, let go of that stag!"
Quinn turned and barked the order. Dragon-Qilin released his jaws from the stag's neck; the furious stag tried to strike back, but Dragon-Qilin promptly sat down on it like a mountain, pinning it helplessly beneath his bulk.
The thunder overhead grew even tighter and more intense, like giants pounding war drums, while the lightning gathered into swirling masses, illuminating the darkness.
Layers of heaven eyes opened in Quinn's pupils. He peered into the clouds—and suddenly glimpsed figures flashing at breakneck speed, leaping and fighting above the storm!
On the other side, Wang Moran, Long Yu, and Mu Qingdai from Little Jade Capital, having studied techniques like Heavenly Eye and Divine Eye, all activated their spells to look up at the sky, and couldn't help but cry out in astonishment.
Suddenly, the thick and heavy storm clouds were ripped apart, and a tall, imposing figure appeared amidst the darkness, wielding two giant sabers. For an instant, his face was illuminated by lightning—fierce, wild, and savage!
"Grandpa Butcher!"
Qin Mu cried out in shock. He had seen Butcher's madness before—back in Oldridge Village, Butcher often went berserk, even hacking at the Village Chief. Only when facing Qin Mu did Butcher ever show a hint of gentleness.
His cry had barely left his mouth when several more figures appeared in the rift in the clouds, charging at Butcher!
"The clouds just now were split open by Grandpa Butcher's saber!"
As he realized this, the clouds closed up again, thunder rumbling. But that rolling sound wasn't thunder at all—it was the deafening roar of figures moving at incredible speed!
Butcher's saber had split the sky, its heat boiling the rainwater in the clouds—no wonder the rain kept getting hotter!
At that moment, Qin Mu suddenly saw a majestic continent falling from the sky, piercing through the clouds. The continent was covered with mountains and rivers, lush and verdant, but it was perfectly inverted above the ground, as if about to collide with the Everpeace Empire—a terrifying sight.
"Aba!" Mute said solemnly.
"That's right, it's Village Chief!"
On his back he still carried the cylindrical forge—a blackened, long-cold iron furnace.
The forge had long since gone cold, black as charcoal.
Mute Smith clenched his fists, and his yuanqi erupted—suddenly, the forge on his back blazed to life, flames roaring.
The blood flood-dragons stopped, some perched on railings, others squatting atop stone lions, some resting on the steps, and still others appearing on the roof of the hall behind Qin Mu and the others.
All around was darkness. Heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by rough, violent breathing—steady, but filled with suppressed rage.
Mute Smith's chest rattled and shook; suddenly, the Imperial Disc flew out, dropping neatly into Qin Mu's hand. Without turning, Mute Smith raised his hand and made a series of gestures.
Qin Mu hung the Imperial Disc on his chest and said gravely, "Grandpa Mute wants us to retreat into the hall! Dragon-Qilin, get up—don't crush that poor stag!"
Dragon-Qilin quickly got up. The stag collapsed, panting heavily, its tongue lolling out.
"Ptooey!" Dragon-Qilin spat a mouthful of dragon saliva onto the stag.
"You brute! What a waste—that was several bottles' worth of Dragon Spittle Elixir!" Qin Mu howled in anguish.
The footsteps in the darkness drew nearer. Two enormous flood-dragons appeared first, their mountain-sized heads, long necks, and sharp claws looming—and then, gripping their backs, a pair of scaled feet emerged from the shadows.
The boiling rain poured down like a waterfall, drenching the towering figure who stepped out of the darkness. The rain polished his scales until they gleamed, reflecting flashes of lightning.
The two flood-dragons halted. A bolt of lightning tore through the darkness, illuminating the towering figure.
Dragon-Keeper Lord.
His head was almost bald, with only a few strands of hair left, and his face was as black as charcoal—Dragon-Keeper Lord!
"You think you can stop me?"
His gaze cut through the darkness like lightning, shining on Mute Smith and his blazing forge as if to pierce him through. His voice thundered: "You think you can block me? Hand over that thick-headed brat who burned my hair, and I'll grant you a whole corpse!"
Mute Smith was unfazed, scratching his head.
"Grandpa Mute, he's talking about me!"
Qin Mu poked his head out from the hall, looking honest and sincere. "Dragon Lord, I'm the one who burned off your hair. I didn't mean any harm! You asked me to feed the dragons, so I did a great job—they just followed me instead. Then I saw your hair chasing after us, looking so ugly and ruining your image, so I took the liberty of burning off those three thousand troublesome strands."
Dragon-Keeper Lord's eye twitched, but he refused to look away from Mute Smith—he knew that if he did, he might be struck down in an instant.
"So, you're one of the Pioneer Era's leftovers."
His gaze fell on the blazing forge behind Mute Smith, and he sneered, "You're a descendant of the pseudo-Heaven Court's Heavenly Works Division, aren't you? The gods enfeoffed your ancestors as artificers, and you built Carefree Haven and the Ark to reach it—but you never made it. The gods sealed you all away, thinking you'd die in there, but some of you escaped! Why don't you speak?"
The blood flood-dragons stopped, some perched on railings, others squatting atop stone lions, some resting on the steps, and still others appearing on the roof of the hall behind Quinn and the others.
All around was darkness. Heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by rough, violent breathing.
Mute Smith's chest rattled and shook; suddenly, the Imperial Disc flew out, dropping neatly into Quinn's hand. Without turning, Mute Smith raised his hand and made a series of gestures.
Quinn hung the Imperial Disc on his chest and said gravely, "Grandpa Mute wants us to retreat into the hall! Dragon-Qilin, get up—don't crush that poor stag!"
Dragon-Qilin quickly got up. The stag collapsed, panting heavily, its tongue lolling out.
"Ptooey!" Dragon-Qilin spat a mouthful of dragon saliva onto the stag.
"You brute! What a waste—that was several bottles' worth of Dragon Spittle Elixir!" Quinn howled in anguish.
The footsteps in the darkness drew nearer. Two enormous flood-dragons appeared first, their mountain-sized heads, long necks, and sharp claws looming—and then, gripping their backs, a pair of scaled feet.
The boiling rain poured down like a waterfall, drenching the towering figure emerging from the darkness. The rain polished his scales until they gleamed, reflecting the lightning.
The two flood-dragons halted. A bolt of lightning tore through the darkness, illuminating the imposing figure.
Dragon-Keeper Lord.
His head bore only a few strands of hair, and his face was black as charcoal—the Dragon-Keeper Lord!
"You think you can stop me?"
His gaze sliced through the darkness like lightning, shining on Mute Smith and his blazing forge as if to pierce him through. His voice thundered: "You think you can block me? Hand over that thick-headed brat who burned my hair, and I'll grant you a whole corpse!"
Mute Smith was unfazed, scratching his head.
"Grandpa Mute, he's talking about me!"
Quinn poked his head out from the hall, looking honest and sincere. "Dragon Lord, I'm the one who burned off your hair. I didn't mean any harm! You asked me to feed the dragons, so I did a great job—they just followed me instead. Then I saw your hair chasing after us, looking so ugly and ruining your image, so I took the liberty of burning off those three thousand troublesome strands."
Dragon-Keeper Lord's eye twitched, but he refused to look away from Mute Smith—knowing that if he did, he might be struck down in an instant.
"So, you're one of the Pioneer Era's leftovers."
His gaze fell on the blazing forge behind Mute Smith, and he sneered, "You're a descendant of the pseudo-Heaven Court's Heavenly Works Division, aren't you? The gods enfeoffed your ancestors as artificers, and you built Carefree Haven and the Ark to reach it—but you never made it. The gods sealed you all away, thinking you'd die in there, but some of you escaped! Why don't you speak?"