17. The Power of the Earth’s Veins

“What an impressive beast—this elephant actually knows how to harness the power of the earth vein?” Bai Zongnan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The earth vein was an unfathomable phenomenon, the essence nurtured by the land itself. Beneath a single vein, energy was contained in unfathomable abundance.

If true energy was like water, then the power of an earth vein was an ocean.

The force of the earth vein was vast and boundless, an inexhaustible, ever-flowing font.

The elephant roared again, striding forward, charging at Bai Zongnan.

The ground trembled; molten rock surged below. Streams of magma spouted from the earth’s fissures, gathering before the behemoth.

At last, they transformed into a sweeping blaze, roaring with consuming fire.

Flames scorched the heavens.

The sight sent chills through all who beheld it.

“This is the power of the Crimson Flame Earth Vein? Did this elephant actually devour an entire Crimson Flame Earth Vein?” Bai Zongnan’s pupils contracted sharply. “No wonder it’s a monster beast! It’s actually able to absorb so much earth vein energy!”

The elephant’s size was beyond immense.

No wonder this was the world of legend—even the resources of the earth veins far exceeded those of the real world, able to nurture such terrifying beasts!

Bai Zongnan was both alarmed and a little regretful.

This elephant from the mythic world was mighty, but ultimately it did not possess the bloodline of the demon race. If it had developed true intelligence, as a great demon, its strength would be even more fearsome, terrifying beyond compare.

But for now, its power was limited to this.

That brought Bai Zongnan some relief.

For as long as it was merely a wild great beast, it was a creature of brute force, devoid of wit.

The elephant roared, charging at Bai Zongnan with renewed ferocity.

“Wretched beast!” Bai Zongnan shouted, throwing a fist imbued with a chilling martial will.

With a thunderous crash, the elephant’s forepaw collided with Bai Zongnan’s fist.

The impact was as if two speeding trucks had smashed into each other—sparks flashed, explosions boomed, the earth quaked unceasingly.

The elephant staggered back seven or eight paces.

Bai Zongnan too retreated three or four steps before steadying himself.

He was quietly astonished.

“What power! If it had been an ordinary martial artist of the first stage, that punch would have shattered all their internal organs.”

“Truly a creature of the demon race—formidable indeed!”

“But you’ve met your match today. Your fate is sealed.”

Bai Zongnan let out a low cry, his energy surging. He struck out with a palm, as if mountains and seas were collapsing, landing fiercely on the elephant’s trunk.

A sharp crack resounded.

The elephant squealed in agony, its massive body thrown into the air before crashing down, gouging a deep pit into the earth.

It roared in pain.

But its ferocity did not abate; it sprang up like a cannonball, flailing wildly as it lunged once more at Bai Zongnan.

“Die!” Bai Zongnan’s gaze was icy as he flicked his wrist. A silver ring snared the elephant’s neck, and he gave it a savage yank.

In that instant, the elephant’s body stiffened; its neck went limp.

A crisp fracture echoed—its neck snapped clean through, blood spraying in torrents, flooding the ground.

Bai Zongnan dragged the elephant’s carcass into the mountain valley.

Within the valley, a tranquil bamboo grove swayed softly in the breeze.

A woman sat at the doorway of a bamboo cottage, weaving.

She was beautiful, dressed in simple white, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her skin fair and lustrous, delicate to the touch.

A true beauty—her features exquisite, her bearing refined, as graceful as a poem or a painting.

She seemed unbothered by the battle raging nearby.

Her slender fingers gripped the silk thread; strands of white mist flowed from her palm into the thread, which grew brighter and brighter, gradually condensing into a single sigil.

The sigil shimmered with light.

She was etching a mystical mark.

When the work was done, the air rippled subtly.

The sigil fused into the very air and vanished without a trace.

Such secret techniques belonged to the art of the Engraver—subtle and difficult to detect.

Suddenly, a piercing shriek sounded from afar.

In the next instant, an arrow appeared out of thin air before the woman, darting toward her brow with terrifying speed.

She swayed slightly, effortlessly dodging, then looked up.

Suspended in midair was a young man, bow in one hand, crossbow in the other, staring at her coldly.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” the woman asked, frowning.

“We meet again,” the young man chuckled. “My name is Wang Lun. And I know you—you’re Yan Po-xi. That’s right, I’ve come for you. So, have you considered my proposal?”

A faint smile curled his lips.

Though not old, the youth had already attained the innate realm—a respectable level of cultivation.

“Wooing me? You think yourself worthy?” Disgust flashed in Yan Po-xi’s eyes.

She found his looks and demeanor utterly distasteful.

He was neither handsome nor dashing, but effeminate and self-absorbed.

Wang Lun laughed. “Whether I’m worthy or not, we’ll see after a bout.”

Yan Po-xi said nothing.

She knew well he was a master of the innate realm.

But so what? Did he truly think he could harm her?

“I come from Liangshan,” Wang Lun said softly.

“I’ve never even heard of Liangshan,” Yan Po-xi replied with a careless smile. “If you’re not an imperial martial artist, please leave.”

“You’re not afraid?” Wang Lun asked.

Yan Po-xi snorted. She did not believe any mere martial artist from Liangshan would dare cause trouble on Erlong Mountain.

“Then let me show you what I can do.” Wang Lun, wasting no more words, threw a punch that unleashed scorching fire, surging forth like a tidal wave.

A thunderous explosion followed.

Yan Po-xi’s face changed dramatically.

The flames were so hot they seemed to scorch the very air; the bamboo around her withered and burned.

The fire’s heat was overwhelming, its force terrifying.

“Mere parlor tricks!” Yan Po-xi gritted her teeth. Suddenly, a mass of thick black demonic energy erupted from her body.

The energy churned, condensing into a lotus to block the flames.

With a violent clash, the energies collided; the lotus was shattered, but the flames were snuffed out as well.

Surprise flickered across Yan Po-xi’s face. “What kind of technique is this?”

Wang Lun smiled. “No need to understand it—you need only remember that you are beautiful, and I like you very much.”

With that, he attacked again.

Flames, blades of force, sword qi, flying swords—he unleashed a barrage of attacks.

“Cheap tricks,” Yan Po-xi replied, her expression dark as she dealt with each in turn, repelling every move.

But now, she finally felt the pressure.

This young man was powerful—far beyond an ordinary first-rank master.

She was irritated.

This stranger was far too bold.

Her master was the chieftain of Erlong Mountain, a true grandmaster of the Celestial Grotto! Even without special treasures, her cultivation alone could crush any first-rank master—this was fact!

And this upstart dared to cause trouble? He must have a death wish.

With a thunderous roar, Yan Po-xi swept her sleeve, conjuring a massive black hand that blotted out a hundred meters, grasping fiercely toward Wang Lun.