Chapter Fifty-One: Doomed!

From the tone of her cries, it was clear that Nan Feng Xiaolang had also suffered grievous injuries. Her calls sounded so fragile, so powerless and pale beneath the savagery of Zuo Hao's violence.

Zhou Yu forcibly suppressed his impulse to rush forward. As he moved, he did his best to keep silent, gently parting the wild grass. What met his eyes was a clearing; the grass here had been reduced to ashes or powder by the energy unleashed in the violent battle, with a few spots still smoldering, wisps of blue smoke rising into the air.

Abuli was crawling, his mouth filled with blood that dyed his once-white teeth a ghastly crimson. About ten meters away, Zuo Hao had Nan Feng Xiaolang pinned to the ground, tearing at her clothes.

With a vicious tug, Zuo Hao ripped off Nan Feng Xiaolang’s pink undergarment, exposing her pale, flawless breasts. Two madly greedy flames instantly flashed in his eyes. Nan Feng Xiaolang struggled with all her might to cover her chest with both hands, but Zuo Hao slapped her hard across the face, knocking her unconscious.

Her hair, disheveled from the struggle, spread messily across the grass. Her chest was bare and dazzlingly white, heaving gently with each breath, the movement creating soft waves. Zuo Hao gazed at the beauty beneath him, licked his lips, and cursed, “Damn! The Nan Feng clan’s little vixens are just as tasty as I imagined! I’ll make sure to have every last woman in your whole tribe!” He began tearing off his own shirt.

Just as Zhou Yu was about to make his move, he suddenly realized there was another person present. This one, too, was bald—Morrison!

At the same moment Zhou Yu noticed Morrison, the latter seemed to sense him as well and looked in his direction.

Morrison nodded at Zhou Yu, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

At this, Zhou Yu abruptly rose from the grass, parting the wild tufts as he stepped boldly into the clearing. “It’s not even night yet, and you’re already so eager to pounce on a young girl, baldy?”

Zuo Hao, who was fumbling with his belt, started at the unexpected sound, nearly losing his nerve. He spun around and, seeing Zhou Yu, his eyes narrowed with a vicious gleam and his new scar twisted into a grimace, making him look even more like a consummate villain.

“There’s a road to heaven, but you refuse to walk it—you’d rather barge into hell! Hahaha! Do you remember what I said? I swore I’d torture you to death!”

“Do you dare to kill me?” Zhou Yu replied.

“Why wouldn’t I dare?” Zuo Hao sneered, throwing Nan Feng Xiaolang aside and getting to his feet. He stared at Zhou Yu as if seeing a dead man. “What do you think this place is? If I kill you here, no one will ever know. Those other poor fools don’t even know if they’re alive or dead, probably fighting for their own survival. Who’s going to intervene?”

“Or do you think you can take on the two of us alone? Just because you’ve opened the meridians in your arms, you think you’re invincible? Let me tell you something! Low-level cultivators are always just that—you’ll never become a demon general! Oh, my mistake, I forgot—you’re about to die by my hand.”

Zhou Yu yawned, his tone icy cold. “You talk too much. Let me make it simple: tonight, you die.”

Zuo Hao stared at him as if he were an idiot, then, after a few moments, suddenly roared, “Who do you think you are? You think you can threaten me? Are you stupid? Damn it! I’ll kill you first, then have my fun with that little bitch!” For some reason, Zuo Hao seemed especially excited, his eyes bloodshot. He shot a furtive glance in a certain direction.

“Zhou… run…” Abuli struggled to lift himself, his voice barely a whisper, so weak it was almost inaudible. “The holy beast… is here… run…”

At last, Abuli could hold out no longer and collapsed in a heap. No one noticed that where his body touched the ground, a faint golden glow began to shimmer, just as it had the night he was provoked in the martial hall.

Zhou Yu started. A holy beast? The image of the little white creature he’d seen before being swept away by the tornado flickered through his mind. He was about to look around when Zuo Hao launched his assault.

Zuo Hao must have guessed what Abuli had said. Even if he hadn’t understood, the mere hint of a holy beast’s presence was enough to make him determined to kill everyone who might have heard. Even Morrison, loyal as he was, would eventually have to be dealt with—but that could wait, since Morrison was both devoted and powerful.

Seeing Zhou Yu distracted, Zuo Hao wasted no time and hurled his fist forward. Was it despicable, shameless? Only the living get to judge such things—Zuo Hao was long accustomed to fighting dirty.

His fist glowed with a dazzling, multicolored energy, so dense it looked ready to burst free. This meant Zuo Hao’s strength was nearing the level of a mid-rank demon general, and from the colors swirling around his fist, it was clear he possessed more than one type of elemental energy—a rare phenomenon indeed.

Just as Zuo Hao thought his sneak attack would succeed, Zhou Yu instinctively crossed his arms to guard his chest—a movement so practiced it seemed almost reflexive. After the first time he’d been ambushed by Zuo Hao, Zhou Yu had spent time pondering how to avoid such attacks. He’d settled on drilling a few basic defensive maneuvers every day, hoping that muscle memory might one day save his life.

Zhou Yu’s greatest strength lay in his arms, and they also recovered the fastest. Thus, every defensive technique he practiced relied on them.

With a thunderous bang, even though he managed to shield his chest, Zhou Yu was still sent flying several yards by the force of the blow. Regaining his balance in midair, he landed with one hand braced against the ground, glaring fiercely at Zuo Hao.

Zuo Hao was mildly surprised, but then shrugged indifferently. “Not bad. You actually managed to block that.”

Zhou Yu curled his lips and, expressionless, retorted, “Don’t use the same move on me twice!” Quoting a line from a knockoff Saint Seiya, he even managed to imitate the hero’s cold demeanor.

Zuo Hao advanced again, and Zhou Yu rose slowly to his feet, walking toward him step by step. A moment ago, Zhou Yu had carefully surveyed the battlefield, especially the places where smoke still drifted. One such spot was a round pit, its surface sealed with thick ice and exhaling wisps of white chill. If Abuli was right, the sacred qilin must be inside that pit.

As Zuo Hao approached, he layered himself with several kinds of beastly power. Meanwhile, Morrison had also risen and was closing in on Zhou Yu from another direction. The enormous dragon with its massive rump had already been summoned, circling overhead. At the first opportunity, it would unleash a deadly breath attack.

“Dead for sure…” Zhou Yu muttered under his breath.

“Only just realized that, have you? Are you stupid?” Zuo Hao snarled, suddenly launching another attack. The beastly aura cloaking him took shape, manifesting dozens of monstrous forms.

PS: Lalalalala~ I’ve been writing so happily lately, so very happy~~