Chapter 118: The Handwriting of That Lord

Billions of threads of prison-light erupted, scattering like flaming meteors as they rampaged through the void, piercing the firmament like a dense swarm of primordial arrows.

This Prison-Sealing Heavenly Dragon, the most formidable divine manifestation of the formation arts, devoured stars and eclipsed ancient celestial bodies, its overwhelming, unstoppable momentum seemingly poised to annihilate everything within the spiritual universe.

"What do we do? This Ninth Killing Formation has gone completely berserk. Even with our Xuan-light augmentation, it will be incredibly difficult for the four of us to push the Saint's remains through that," cried Daoist Yellow Toad.

"It is of no concern. The curse upon these Saint's remains is the bane of all spirits and forces; the Prison-Dragon deity will not only fail to stop it, but will instead be drained dry," Xia said. Calm and composed, her beautiful eyes burned with intensity. She was well aware of the black remains' capabilities and, facing the Prison-Sealing Heavenly Dragon, she focused solely on channeling her Xuan-light, ignoring all else.

She had not wanted to reveal her trump card in such a situation, as it was ultimately somewhat precarious. The ideal scenario was for Feng Shang to be trapped and immobilized, allowing her to then rely on the supreme, wicked curse of the black remains to annihilate his physical body and soul.

"Fairy Xia, are you certain?" Sensing the encroaching danger, Huo Zhuo felt his own existence under immense threat; if that prison-dragon were to strike, he would lose at least sixty percent of his Master-level divine body.

"Naturally. A hundred-zhang radius around these black remains is an absolute forbidden zone; even the laws of space-time will rot away."

The lifeless skeleton, wrapped in black mist, was stained with dark marks in many places. The interior of the skull, in particular, was deep and bottomless, as if hiding something sinister—its aura chilling and bone-deep.

Bang!

Propelled by the four streams of Xuan-light, the Saint's remains struck the prison-dragon like a bolt of lightning. To be precise, the skeleton plunged into the very heart of the prison-dragon, the disparity in their sizes immense.

"Roar!"

The Prison-Sealing Heavenly Dragon let out a ruthless, piercing cry, its nine claws sweeping down from the heavens. The dragon’s roar shook the star-sea with vast power, and boundless prison-fire ignited, upturning stars and collapsing the firmament. It released such intense heat and killing intent that the world seemed on the verge of being refined into nothingness. The surging prison-tides engulfed everything, causing the starry sky around the four Masters to continuously melt and collapse.

"Look, this is the power of the Ninth Killing Formation. It cost me nine stellar-grade energy cores to forge this invincible phenomenon. Their souls will be burned to ash!" Standing on the planet Xuanming and gazing into the distance, Feng Shang finally smiled, delighted to see the soaring aura and the all-consuming prison-fire.

"The Ninth Killing Formation is indeed formidable. Young Master Feng, once we break through this sealed space-time, please use this formation to capture those who took my young master," said Old Yuan, his heart shaken by the overwhelming power of the formation.

"Easily done, easily done..."

"Wait a moment. Have you noticed that the dragon's power is waning?"

Suddenly, Qing Tian-e’s expression tightened.

"Power is waning?"

Hearing this, Feng Shang quickly focused his gaze. He saw four brilliant streams of Xuan-light, carrying something, rampaging within the Prison-Sealing Heavenly Dragon, while terrifying black mist spilled out continuously. Within the mist, the skeleton floated, its throat bones gently undulating. A vast number of curse-runes flowed out like thousands of ants gnawing at energy, causing the dragon’s aura to plummet.

"What is that?" Feng Shang's expression darkened instantly.

"An omen—something extremely evil," Silver Flame said, his eyes solemn. "There is a supreme decay within it. It gives me the feeling that even a pinnacle-grade divine weapon would be defiled if it touched it."

Feng Shang frowned and invoked the 'Creation from Nothing' energy beside him. "Go, test it."

The bright, divine energy, soft and brilliant, full of lively spirit, hesitated for a moment before rushing forward. However, it turned back halfway and circled back to Feng Shang’s arm, projecting a sense of reluctance.

"Even you are afraid?" Feng Shang was startled and looked toward the scene again.

At this moment, the Prison-Sealing Heavenly Dragon had completely withered. Its roar was faint, and its aura had plummeted, as if it had aged from a vibrant youth into a stumbling, elderly man at sunset. The strongest manifestation of this Ninth Killing Formation had crumbled so rapidly that it was completely unexpected!

"Is it over just like that?" Feng Shang was shocked, finding it hard to believe.

Little Huang clutched her small hands, shivering as if from cold. Her fair, jade-like face was filled with tension. She tugged at Feng Shang’s sleeve and said, "Brother Feng Shang, stop fighting these people. Huang-er feels uneasy."

"Brother Feng Shang, let’s go. The Ninth Killing Formation cannot stop them. At least remember their appearances; we can come back to deal with them later," Qing-er urged.

Hearing this, Feng Shang’s expression was complex. He patted Little Huang’s head and glanced at Xia and Daoist Yellow Toad in the distance. After much hesitation, a look of unwillingness appeared on his face.

"Damn it, I’ll have to use one of my 'Reversal Slips'."

Feng Shang gritted his teeth. He possessed vast quantities of destruction slips and endless stellar energy; in his treasury, there were still many treasures he hadn't yet brought out, but his own strength was simply too lacking. Four Masters of the cultivation realm, carrying a Saint’s corpse—this was far beyond what he could currently resist.

"I should also contribute my share."

Just then, a young man sighed softly and stepped forward. He was dressed in clean white robes, elegant and refined, with a scholarly air. Ever since they had left Nine-Star City, his presence had been so low that he was often overlooked. Now that he stood out, although he didn't say much, it seemed a bit like overestimating his own abilities...

"Master Nameless, do you have a way?"

Qing-er blinked her bright eyes, looking at the young man in surprise. This young master’s origins were mysterious, his methods profound, and his potential was astonishing—Grandpa Nine-Star and Grandpa Nine-Crazy both held him in the highest regard. But his cultivation level was only at the 'Severing Reversal' stage; how could he stop four Masters?

Could it be...

Qing-er’s eyes widened, remembering the remark Grandpa Nine had made when he first met the young man.

"I don't know if it will be of any use."

The young man shook his head, simply taking a scroll from his snow-white sleeve. He slowly unrolled a corner, revealing elegant, iron-hooked calligraphy. A single character was written there, the brushwork ethereal and lively, possessing an indescribable divine charm.

"This is! You are!!"

Suddenly, Old Yuan’s eyes widened, revealing a look of disbelief. His voice rose by several decibels as he finally understood why he had always felt a sense of familiarity with the young man.

It was the calligraphy of *that* lord!

"Go."

The young man whispered and tossed the scroll. The partially unrolled scroll traced an elegant arc across the starry sky, plunging into the space-time where the prison-fire lingered.

In the opposite sky.

Huo Zhuo shuddered, his lips trembling. He quickly retracted his Xuan-light and scanned his surroundings, his expression one of profound shock.

"Lord? Is it you? Are you here?"

This was entirely out of character for him. Usually, he was either carefree and uninhibited, or cold and unapproachable, occasionally displaying decisiveness or sinister charm, but he was never one to be so flustered. However, the sudden appearance of that lord’s aura was too familiar, too significant, and too overwhelming for him to remain calm.

Suddenly, Huo Zhuo's gaze fell upon the scroll, and he locked onto it with a desperate intensity.

"Huo Zhuo, why have you stopped? Are you mad? Quickly, augment the Xuan-light! We are almost there!" Yellow Toad shouted in a panic.

The scroll floated lightly, like a feather, and gently draped over the Saint's remains...