Boom…
Boom…
The deafening drumbeat continued to ring out, echoing through every corner of the village like the pulse of some colossal heart.
At the horizon, thick layers of clouds blocked most of the sunlight, letting no warmth through.
Boom…
The climax of the Dragon Calling Parade had finally arrived at the man-made Heavenly Pit behind the village.
It was a vast, circular deep pit, its rim lined with ring after ring of rough stone stands, layer upon layer.
On those stands, villagers had already packed in tightly, shoulder to shoulder. Most were bare-chested, displaying bronze or dark sinewy muscles, their faces painted with patterns made from a mix of cinnabar and soot.
They didn’t speak.
They just silently, rhythmically beat the large drums hanging before them.
And at the edge of the Heavenly Pit, on the steps leading down to the bottom, the Dragon Statue—fused from flesh and unknown materials—was being carried by dozens of strong villagers working together.
They chanted in unison, their steps heavy, accompanied by the drumbeat that ceaselessly echoed across the pit.
Step by step, they brought the Dragon Statue down to the bottom.
The ropes used to secure the statue scraped against the stone walls, letting out a creak, creak sound.
Then, as the statue truly reached the center of the pit floor, there came a thunderous CRASH.
The Dragon Statue fell into the pit, kicking up a cloud of murky dust and rubble.
The drumming on all the stands paused for a beat, and the tourists standing by the railing above the pit gasped in amazement.
In the dim light at the bottom of the pit, a priest draped in a heavy black robe, wearing a wooden mask on his face, slowly emerged from a room at the edge.
The mask had no features—only a horizontal slit for seeing.
He held a scepter of unknown material in his hand, walked barefoot, and began to dance around the edge of the Dragon Statue, muttering indistinct prayers that stirred unease in the hearts of those who heard them.
Boom-boom, boom!
On the stands, the rhythm of the drums changed, becoming erratic—sometimes fast, sometimes slow; sometimes heavy, sometimes light.
Above the Heavenly Pit, Qiu Qiqian and the others, who had arrived earlier, were carefully sensing the changes in the Nether Breath around them.
The situation now… was strange.
Although the Nether Breath was more concentrated than before, they still couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of that Guiyi.
“That guy… sure knows how to hide deep,”
Xia Xinglian said coldly, staring down at the Dragon Statue.
With a flick of her finger, a tentacle had already emerged from the shadows at the bottom of the Heavenly Pit, ready to destroy the statue the moment she detected anything wrong.
“So… you still haven’t found it?”
Isana asked, her eyes closed, her hands resting on Yao Xueyue’s shoulders.
This was her way of preventing herself from falling under another Cognitive Modification.
“Not yet… for now,”
Li Meng replied, standing beside Qiu Qiqian, watching the Dragon Statue below.
The priest continued his ritual, and the clouds in the sky grew thicker, as if they were about to press down at any moment, making it hard to breathe.
Yet despite this, the tourists still gathered by the railing, eyes fixed on the Dragon Statue at the bottom of the pit.
There, amid the priest’s incantations, Village Chief Hu Yue was holding a long cloth soaked in what looked like animal blood, walking step by step toward the statue.
“Since… the Dragon Lord fell, strange phenomena have frequented the mortal world, dangers lurking everywhere…”
He muttered something as well, his voice at one point drowning out the priest’s lines.
Reaching the center, he faced the dragon’s head of the statue directly, his eyes devout.
“The Azure Heaven shows no mercy, human hearts are no longer as they were. I beseech… the Dragon Lord to open its eyes, vanquish all demons, and grant us a peaceful world!!”
He draped the still-dripping cloth over the statue’s eyes.
In an instant, a piercing crack of thunder resounded from the sky.
Blood began to seep from the Dragon Statue’s eyes, trickling down its cheeks, drop by drop, onto the stone platform below.
Then…
CRASH!
The Dragon Statue… collapsed.
“What… you struck already?”
Seeing this, Yao Xueyue above instinctively thought Xia Xinglian had done it and asked her.
“No, I haven’t done anything yet,”
Xia Xinglian shook her head in denial.
Beneath her sunglasses, her eyes grew even colder.
Beyond the railing, the tourists let out another gasp of amazement, but oddly, they didn’t seem surprised.
It was as if the statue’s collapse was just part of the Dragon Calling Parade’s routine.
“Ooh——”
“Ooh——”
On the stands, the men who had been drumming stopped their actions and simultaneously let out a chant, yet it carried no sense of sacredness.
At that moment, Village Chief Hu standing on the stone platform suddenly fell to his knees with a thud, his upper body pitching forward, his head slamming heavily onto the ground.
Almost at the same time, sensing something terribly wrong, Xia Xinglian commanded the tentacle that had been lying in ambush to strike at the fallen chief.
“Urgh… Aaaah!!!”
With a miserable scream from Village Chief Hu, a huge crack split open on his back.
What leaked out wasn’t hot blood or a pale spine, but a vast cloud of Red Mist.
Thump…
From within the Red Mist came a heartbeat.
In that same instant, the tentacle that had been aimed at the chief suddenly halted, hovering just a few centimeters away from him.
Thump…
From within the Red Mist came a second heartbeat.
Thump…
From within the Red Mist came a third heartbeat.
The silhouette of a dragon began to coalesce above the Heavenly Pit.
In the village, inside the shrine, all records of the “dragon,” all depictions of the “dragon,” and even every villager’s mental image of the “dragon” began to tilt toward “it.”
“Miss Xia Xinglian? Miss Xia Xinglian?!”
Seeing Xia Xinglian suddenly freeze in place, Li Meng called out tentatively.
When there was no response, she quickly grabbed her and shook her, turning her away to prevent her from continuing to stare at the gradually forming “dragon.”
Qiu Qiqian also noticed Yao Xueyue’s condition—her eyes were glazing over, exactly like Isana’s before.
In a rush, Qiu Qiqian used her Black Arm to cover Yao Xueyue’s eyes, trying to slow the Cognitive Modification that way.
Thump… thump…
Thump… thump…
The heartbeat continued.
Thunder and lightning began to flash within the dark clouds above.
“What… happened just now?”
Isana asked with her eyes closed.
She could feel the eerie silence around her.
No drumming, no gasps from the tourists—only the faint sound of a heartbeat creeping into her mind.
“Isana, listen. Yao Xueyue and Miss Xia Xinglian seem to be affected too… I’m going to teleport you all into my Inner World. Stay there for now. Li Meng and I will handle the rest.”
Seeing that she couldn’t wake Yao Xueyue, Qiu Qiqian informed Isana of her plan.
Since some Nether Bodies could also unfold their Inner Worlds, saying this shouldn’t expose anything.
“Mm. Understood.”
Seeing Isana nod in agreement with her eyes still closed, Qiu Qiqian nodded back, then raised her hand and teleported them, along with some other affected people nearby, inside.
Unfortunately, as a Mei-class entity, her Inner World couldn’t accommodate too many external beings without risking collapse.
She could only put in those closest to the Heavenly Pit and the villagers already inside it for now.
ROAR——
An earth-shaking dragon roar forced Qiu Qiqian and Li Meng to refocus on the Red Mist that had spread above the Heavenly Pit, still pulsing with heartbeats.
Suddenly, a sharp dragon claw tore through one side of the Red Mist like breaking out of an eggshell.
Then, eyes that seemed to fuse countless pupils appeared from within the Red Mist, looking down upon the creatures that worshipped it.
Finally, came the bloated, winding body…
It was the body recorded in all the village’s scriptures, depicted in countless murals, known to every villager and every person present from myths and legends…