Nine Venoms Sect Founder - Chapter 133: The Fisherwoman (2)

In a distant world of endless strife and monstrous battles, clad in Devil Essence, a colossal golden crow clashed with ancient dragons, immortal phoenixes, dreadful leviathans and other titanic beasts—cleaving his way through their ranks to rush into a towering, dark-purple portal. Alas, a step before his goal, his body shook, forcing him to crash from over ten-thousand meters of altitude. The Devil Essence became a chaotic mess of flickering energies, blood dripped from the golden crow’s eyes, and his bestial face twisted with endless rage. “How…who was it that interfered and ruined my future? Weeping Soul…even you…failed me?!” Confused and weakened by his Plan B’s loss, the true Nakula spat, but how could the terrible enemies surrounding him miss this golden opportunity? Each flashed monstrous smiles at the collapsed crow and dropped on him with ravenous hunger.

…

In the Obsidian Soul Stone Mine, a scream of rage, despair and unwillingness tore through the Abyssal River. A whirlpool formed at its center, and from it shot out a 99 meters tall treant whose eerie eyes locked on the 27th Landgrave. Desperate, the treant dropped at the last Landgrave’s side, and stretched its elongated branches at its corpse. “Master…master!” In a last, pointless attempt, Weeping Soul shook the 27th Landgrave’s body, poured in his essence, attempted to fix his body…but failed at all corners. Few could challenge True Death, and though the Reverend had many skills, resurrection wasn’t one of them—to say nothing that the Landgraves were all puppets to begin with. Tears dripped down the Weeping Soul trunk’s eyes.

A complete failure. Despite all his preparations, this expedition resulted in a complete failure. In Weeping Soul heart, his massive breakthrough was never the principal goal. First and foremost, he had to ensure two things: the 27th Landgrave’s safety and the Abyssal River mistress’ fall. Everything was going smoothly. Success couldn’t escape his palm. But who could expect that the easiest task, the 27th Landgrave’s safety, would become the starting point of his failure. And this…was but one person’s fault.

The treant’s eyes shifted to Harun, whose body slowly integrated the lightning cracking and piercing through his diamond-like flesh. “You…it’s all your fault. One after another, you’ve pushed a succession of variables into this clash and ruined centuries of hard work. Were it only me, I wouldn’t care. My companions’ loss, I can endure. But how dare you…how dare you…interfere with Master’s dreams?! How dare you force me to fail him?!” Boundless malevolent energies teemed from Weeping Soul’s treant form. Grief Essence rippled across the air, outpacing the Soul Essence Weeping Soul excelled at.

Attached children often wish to make their parents proud. It is common knowledge and a desire most of them confronts at least once. In the Heavenly Dream Land, Ancient Beasts had long been erased. But some Three-Legged crows survive, safe-kept in eggs by hundreds of thousands of years old deities. Weeping Soul was one such case. Born without parents, he escaped covert slavery thanks to Nakula’s protection, and only saw the world as his master wished him to.

All along, the Reverend lived his Master’s dream while desperately wishing to make that truth Nakula so often told him about a reality. But beyond that truth, Weeping Soul simply hoped to make Nakula proud. He breathed for those moments when the Golden Crow would smile at him and whisper, “Good job.”

He wasn’t the only one. Silav, the Serpent Lord who lived to live up to the Serpent Emperor’s legacy. Lord Revelation, of the Dharma Seeking Temple, who only wished to study beside Golden Cicada. The Devil Princes who, in one way or another, once pursued their unreachable father’s recognition. So many overbearing experts driven by such a simple goal. For some reason, Harun and Birandar saw themselves in Weeping Soul’s grief. But having passed the Suffering stage, Harun didn’t lose his composure, and with a tone that some of his teammates found insensitive, replied:

“According to your faction’s fifth elder, you are a Tree-Legged Crow. Strange…you do realize that Nakula exterminated your kind, right? Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. The Serpent Emperor cleaned up the primordial dragons, ancient rocs and leading phoenixes, who consorted with the reptiles. Of all the few primordial specimen, your Three-Legged Crows should have carried the most descendants, but Nakula’s ascendance as the Golden Crow and marriage to your ancestor led to your lineage’s extinction. Nowaday, celestials only know the words Golden Crow, making your kind a relic of the past. How did it come to this? You are not an idiot and can figure it out on your own.”

“You are correct. But I will still kill you,” Weeping Soul straightforwardly replied. Unlike what Harun expected, the words flew by the Reverend’s ears. Better than anyone, he knew that his bloodline’s extinction was the fruit of his master’s deeds. However, he didn’t care. The bond nurtured across all these years by Nakula’s side went far beyond any illusory sense of belonging. Strangely, Harun felt relieved. Perhaps because using kinship to destroy a man’s mind brought him no joy?

The teary-eyed fruits littering the Reverend’s branches radiated dark-gray energies. The branches swayed to mirror Weeping Soul’s excitement at ripping Harun’s heart out of his chest.

Birandar and Jiyan were about to rush back in, but Harun’s voice cut them mid-move. “Beloved, the extraordinariness I love so much in you will be needed later on. Birandar, do your master a favor and behave,” Harun said, unknowingly speaking the most effective words on those two. Though they both wished to press on, Birandar and Jiyan glanced at one another, and suppressed their urge.

Their eyes narrowed, but unwilling to disturb Harun’s well-crafted plans, they stood back. Going a step further, Jiyan sat crossed-legged, falling into a silent cultivation session. Birandar soon imitated his clan mistress, leaving Mukri to watch over them.

Harun’s mano a mano clash with Weeping Soul had yet to take off when, from the Abyssal River’s whirlpool, a golden light column rose and shafted through the broken ceiling—piercing the sky.

Harun and Mukri glanced at the phenomenon. Birandar snapped out of his cultivation trance, leaving only Jiyan in the dark. Expecting this turn of events, Weeping Soul didn’t shift focus, aiming both for Harun and the entity at his back. The light column faded away, revealing a voluptuous woman garbed in a skimpy red dress. Standing at about 1.78 meters, with a slightly bronzed skin and blood-red eyes, that woman looked past Weeping Soul, locking her eyes on Harun with an almost ravenous hunger.