Chapter 217: Warmth After Death
In the depths of the far southern ocean, a streak of light suddenly halted, and the Holy Light Angel materialized.
His body had been pierced by the Tathagata Sword, leaving him grievously wounded—so severe that even divine blood could not mend it.
He had to return to Snow Old City as quickly as possible to receive sustenance from the altar.
But in the northern sky, a black mountain range appeared, blocking all his paths.
No matter which direction he chose, he could never bypass that black mountain range.
That mountain range could move; it was a Frost Wyrm Dragon.
Even in the Holy Light Continent, or even in the legendary prehistoric world of light, the Frost Wyrm Dragon was the noblest and rarest of creatures.
But this Frost Wyrm Dragon was not yet fully grown. Under normal circumstances, the Holy Light Angel might have been cautious, but he would never have retreated without a fight.
The problem was that his injuries were too severe now. He could only rely on his pure white wings to maintain speed, ensuring he wouldn’t be caught, but he dared not act rashly.
Yet as time passed, his wounds worsened, and finally, the moment of a decisive battle arrived.
The sun shone on the mirror-like sea surface. Mist gradually rose, bringing a stuffy heat.
The Holy Light Angel turned to look at the horizon.
A black line sped toward him at high speed, then abruptly stopped.
Amid a storm-like dragon roar, a black-clad girl stepped through the air.
The languages of the divine race and the dragon race were very close, and the Holy Light Angel could understand her meaning.
“I am indeed heavily wounded, but I still have the power to kill you.”
The Holy Light Angel’s face was abnormally pale, almost translucent, yet his expression was extremely solemn.
In that complex language, he said in a low voice, “In these ocean depths far from the continent, I believe no one can help you.”
At the very beginning, he had tried to cross the Snow Ridge back to the Demon Domain, flying for a long time over the continent’s belly, even successfully evading the little black dragon’s interception several times. But at the final moment, he chose to give up, because he sensed that ahead on his route, some extremely powerful auras were waiting for him.
Some of those auras were like the sun, some like an ancient well, and some were simply a blade.
Clearly, those human strongmen were waiting across the continent to slay him.
The Holy Light Angel dared not take the risk. He left the continent and headed deep into the southernmost sea.
What he called a decisive battle was actually a struggle for survival amidst death.
That Daoist and that white-clad girl still had more important matters to handle in White Emperor City, such as the life and death of that young man.
As long as he could kill this Frost Wyrm Dragon, no one on this continent could match his speed.
Then, as long as he chose his route in advance and avoided those human strongmen scattered across the continent, he might very well return to Snow Old City.
A sacred chant flowed like water from the Holy Light Angel’s thin lips.
His expression grew even more solemn, supremely dignified, utterly devout.
His aura also became much stronger.
He placed all his hope and glory into the battle that followed.
…
…
The little black dragon’s expression was far from serious; it couldn’t even be called earnest.
Watching the Holy Light Angel’s aura continuously strengthen, she didn’t feel like she was facing a great enemy at all. Instead, she looked at him as if watching a fool perform.
She suddenly recalled something her father had said to her many, many years ago.
“Those angels, because of their pride, are foolish—best to kill them.”
Yes, Father.
These angels are indeed as stupid as you said.
The little black dragon felt a touch of sadness.
Between the azure sky and the seawater, there was no wind, no sound.
Suddenly, the sea stirred, churning endlessly as if boiling.
Dozens of islands, large and small, slowly rose from the sea.
On those islands lay dragons of all sizes and kinds.
This was Dragon Island, where all the dragons of this world lived.
At this moment, the sun was overhead—it was their time to bask in it.
Dozens of dragon roars rose and fell, some majestic, some violent, some frivolous.
Dozens of dragon bodies, like mountain ranges, stretched across the sky, blocking all the sunlight.
Dozens of dragon breaths, some terrifyingly powerful, some still very weak, fell upon the Holy Light Angel.
The Holy Light Angel was silent for a moment, then lowered the light spear in his hand.
In the seawater, he sank toward the darkest depths.
He kept his eyes open, watching the sunlight on the sea surface.
He felt neither cold nor fear; instead, he felt a certain warmth.
…
…
The reason the Southern Sea’s waters were warm was that there were few clouds there, and the sunlight was intense.
The reason the Red River’s waters were not cold was that a small amount of the Wildfire beneath the Sky Tree and the earth had leaked out through rock crevices.
Today, the Wildfire that had seeped out was especially abundant, making the river even warmer. The red algae grew joyfully, and in no time, they dyed the river an even deeper red.
On ordinary days, the Yu Jing, which fed on red algae, would be happily eating, occasionally slapping the river surface with their broad, flat tails, creating a spectacular sight.
But today, these creatures, possessing a considerable degree of intelligence, had long since dived to the deepest riverbed, not daring to surface.
The river was so calm it looked like a red satin ribbon.
Both banks were already empty of people.
White Emperor City was in an uproar.
Especially around the courtyard on the west side, separated from the Xiang clan estate by a ravine, the crowd was dense and dark, a sea of heads.
The buildings inside the courtyard had completely collapsed. Broken bricks and shattered beams were everywhere, covered in yellow sand, making it look as if it had been abandoned for decades.
The palace’s grand formation had been broken, and that Holy Light Angel had already died, but the priests around the courtyard had not left.
Linghai King and other leaders of the state religion, even though grievously wounded, still stood guard at the courtyard gate.
Tang Thirty-Six’s face was pale, and he had to lean on the little girl who sold rouge to stay upright.
They hadn’t left because the Demon Lord was still inside.
But they couldn’t enter either, because the entire courtyard was now surrounded by the Red River Demon Guards.
Xiao De, along with the clan chief and over a dozen of the Yao race’s strongest warriors, stood at the courtyard gate.
The two sides faced each other in silent confrontation.
Suddenly, sounds came from behind.
The state religion priests parted like a tide.
Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong walked forward.
Hundreds of swords rose into the air, forming a sword array in the sky.
Xiao De showed no sign of stepping aside.
He looked at Chen Changsheng and said, “This is His Majesty’s will. Please forgive me.”
…
…
The meadow around the Celestial Pavilion, nourished by the river’s moisture, remained a tender green.
The green stone slabs on the street, dampened by the earlier mist, gleamed with an oily sheen.
White Emperor gazed at the commotion around that distant courtyard, watching the rain-like swarm of swords in the sky, and a hint of admiration appeared in his eyes.
Chen Changsheng’s sword path was even more formidable than the rumors suggested.
Shang Xingzhou walked to his side and said, “No one can stop the person I want to kill—not even you.”
He wasn’t referring to Chen Changsheng, but to the Demon Lord.
Killing those two Holy Light Angels was, for him, only the most basic goal.
If he could also kill the Demon Lord, then humanity could be said to have achieved a complete victory.
Even White Emperor wanted to leave the last Holy Light Angel a path to survival, let alone the Demon Lord.
So he posed a question to Shang Xingzhou.
“After you die, which of your students will inherit the human race?” (To be continued.)