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Ao Kun

After crossing the death zone, the scene ahead suddenly opened wide.

At the end of the path lay a vast circular platform, entirely paved with pure white jade.

The platform floated above the waters of the Jade Pool, surrounded by mist and clouds.
Spiritual energy filled the air like gentle rain.

At its center was a spring barely a few feet across—but the liquid flowing from it was no ordinary water.
It shimmered with seven-colored radiance, thick and luminous like liquid light.

The purity of its vitality and aura—
it was from this spring that all the surrounding life force emanated!


Yet the moment they stepped onto the white jade platform, the serenity vanished.

The spiritual richness brought no comfort; instead, an even deeper, more terrifying pressure descended—
far greater than what Bai Chan or even the chaotic laws had unleashed before.
It was as if a mountain had materialized upon their chests, crushing their hearts and souls.

At the platform’s center, the spring still rippled with its seven-colored light,
and above it, the rift in the seal hung open like a bleeding wound,
from which threads of dark red miasma continually dripped.

Before that spring and rift stood a towering figure.

He wore a suit of dark armor traced with golden patterns, his frame as broad and unyielding as a mountain.
Simply standing there, he seemed to anchor the entire core of the Jade Pool—
a divine sentinel guarding heaven’s gate, or perhaps a demon god suppressing the mouth of hell.

His face was sharp and handsome, yet his eyes were deep, glacial, and utterly devoid of mercy—
cold enough to freeze eternity,
and filled with the arrogance of one who viewed all life as crawling ants.

This was Ao Kun, Chief Guardian of Penglai Island.


His gaze swept across the battered, exhausted group—
lingering briefly on Margaret, where the faint aura of royal blood flickered around her.
A hint of disdain flashed in his eyes before his focus locked—like a predator—onto Dustin.

“This place is not for ants such as you to tread.”

Ao Kun’s voice wasn’t loud, but each word carried a law-bound resonance,
hammering into their very souls.

A’Long and the two guards groaned, blood spilling from their lips as they nearly collapsed to their knees.

Margaret and Qingzhu trembled violently, faces pale as snow.

Only Dustin stood firm, his body straight as a pine.
An invisible current of sword intent flowed around him, quietly dispersing the crushing aura.

“Is Penglai Island your private domain?” Dustin said calmly.

“We came only to seek a chance at survival. There is no offense intended.”

Ao Kun’s lips curved into a cold, mocking smile.

“Survival?” he sneered. “You step into this place only to die.
Your flesh and souls becoming sustenance for the Dragon Lord’s resurrection—

that is already the highest honor ants like you can hope for.”

He didn’t even grant Margaret the chance to plead.
Their intentions, their struggles—none of it mattered to him.

His eyes never left Dustin.

“Especially you… Your body and spirit hold great potential.
You would make a fine puppet vessel.

Once refined, you will serve as a powerful Dragonblood War Puppet.”


Even before his words faded, Ao Kun did not move.
He merely lifted his left hand casually,
his fingers weaving through the air like a musician plucking the strings of an unseen instrument.

A strange and ancient seal formed in the void.

The moment it appeared, the spiritual energy around the spring began to boil—
the vibrant aura and dripping dragon blood miasma surging together violently!

Hummmmm—!

The space itself groaned under the strain.

Then, from around the spring, four blood-red pillars of light shot skyward—
each laced with multicolored radiance from the spring’s essence.

Within those pillars, four humanoid figures slowly took shape, solidifying before slamming heavily onto the platform—
forming a line between Ao Kun and the group.


They were puppets—humanoid constructs,
each roughly human in height, their bodies forged from dark, metallic material
with the dull sheen of blackened gold.

Across their surfaces pulsed countless blood-red veins,
like living vessels filled with molten corruption.

They had no faces—only smooth heads with two glowing crimson points where eyes should be,
pulsing with murderous hunger and destruction.

The aura they exuded was both dead and alive
the deathly stillness of corpses fused with the violent vitality of dragon blood and the Jade Pool’s spiritual liquid.

Their claws glinted like dragon talons, sharp and cold enough to slice air itself.

Each one radiated power no weaker than Bai Chan after consuming the Dragon Blood Rebirth Pill
and together, their shared origin made their energies resonate,
forming a deadly battle formation that sealed off all escape routes.


“These are the Dragonblood War Puppets,” Ao Kun said impassively,
as though discussing mere curiosities.
“Forged from the corpses of fallen cultivators,
refined with dragon-blood miasma and the Jade Pool’s essence.

They possess undying battle will—and a fragment of the Void Dragon’s power.”

He gazed down from above, his tone distant and cold.
His eyes finally returned to Dustin, and his voice carried a cruel finality:

“If you can defeat them,

perhaps you will have earned the faintest qualification to glimpse Penglai’s true secret of immortality.”


The moment his words fell,
Ao Kun’s figure—and the crushing pressure with it—
dissolved like a mirage into a streak of dark-golden light,
vanishing into the sealing rift above the spring.

He came abruptly, and departed even more mysteriously—
as though he had never been there at all.

But the four Dragonblood War Puppets remained.

Their eight crimson eyes flared like twin pairs of demonic stars,
locking squarely onto Dustin.

A torrent of killing intent surged outward—
a tangible tide that flooded across the white jade platform in an instant. - Marinien

Comments

Anonymous said…
thanks for the update, Admin Marinien

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