Chapter Sixty-Seven: That Thing Can Shed Its Skin

The Underworld Wolf-Teeth Mace swelled to several times its size, releasing a formidable surge of lightning that crackled and roared with overwhelming might. The group retreated, dodging the massive weapon as it came crashing down.

“Are you from the Candle Dragon Clan?” someone asked.

Fan Lihua strolled forward at a leisurely pace from behind, recalled her mace and slung it over her shoulder like a streetwise rogue. “I already told you: if you didn’t win the bid, you didn’t win the bid. You people are shameless. At least the old ancestor of the Soaring Serpent Clan fought alone, taking on several by himself and claiming victory with true strength. But you lot, just because you heard their ancestor went into seclusion, you ganged up to bully their juniors.”

Qing Yide, suddenly demoted to a “junior” in Fan Lihua’s words, coughed awkwardly. “Lihua, my niece, why have you come back by yourself?”

Fan Lihua didn’t pick up on the subtle implication in Qing Yide’s use of “niece.” She just snorted, “My father is shameless too—he wanted to rob our little goddess, so he’s still guarding the Immortal Treasure Pavilion. I had something private to attend to, so I came back first.”

“Little goddess?” Qing Mo was puzzled.

“The one who boldly bid on both the Sky Pepper Flower and the Golden Crow Seed,” Fan Lihua replied, her eyes full of admiration. In her heart, only such forthright people were worthy of friendship.

“You know her?” Qing Mo asked.

“No, but I’m planning to find a way to get acquainted with her.” Fan Lihua curled her lips with pride, determined to succeed.

Listening to their conversation, the families surrounding the Azure Dragon Clan began to waver. At their head was Fang Yi, leader of the Fang family—the foremost family in the Sacred Realm.

“Could it be that they really didn’t win the Golden Crow Seed?” someone wondered aloud.

“Do you believe whatever they say?” Lu Qin of the Lu family, ranked fifth in the Sacred Realm, analyzed calmly. He was the youngest present at ninety thousand years, but compared to Fan Lihua’s mere two thousand, he was a senior among seniors.

Yet in Fan Lihua’s eyes, no one but her great-grandfather counted as an elder—not even her own father, let alone these others.

“If you don’t believe it, then fight. My great-grandfather is not in seclusion,” she said, her hand slipping into her dimensional pouch, ready to summon reinforcements at any moment.

Fang Yi and Lu Qin clearly hesitated. If Fan Lihua really summoned the Candle Dragon Clan’s old ancestor, it would be far more than just a simple beating. Other than Junyang of the Soaring Serpent Clan, there was no one else as untouchable.

However, with the Soaring Serpent Clan now exiled to the Divine Realm and their bloodline suppressed, they were no longer a threat. Thus, Fan Wuwei, the Candle Dragon Clan’s ancestor, had become the one person nobody dared provoke.

Sensing their fear, Fan Lihua raised her brows. “So, are we fighting or not? Give me an answer quickly.”

The group exchanged glances and grew more polite.

“Are you certain neither of your families won the Golden Crow Seed?” Fang Yi pressed.

“We didn’t, and that’s final. Stop nagging,” Fan Lihua retorted impatiently.

She hefted her massive mace and swung it twice; a wild wind swept out, making everyone’s robes flutter noisily. With a deafening crash, she slammed the weapon into the ground, lightning still arcing from its spikes.

“I’m out of patience. Make your choice now.”

“Very well, we’ll believe you,” Lu Qin replied, stepping aside to clear the way for Qing Yide, Fan Lihua, and their companions.

Fang Yi exchanged a meaningful glance with Lu Qin, then also stepped back.

Qing Yide and Qing Mo, holding onto Qing Zhi, cautiously walked between them. Fan Lihua, however, marched forward without a hint of concern.

Suddenly, Fang Yi lunged at Qing Yide, whose reaction was swift enough to block the incoming fist, though he was forced back several steps.

The commotion immediately caught Fan Lihua’s eye. She turned, only to see that her dimensional pouch was already in Lu Qin’s hand.

“You cunning scoundrels!” Fan Lihua couldn’t bear such treachery. She charged at Lu Qin, swinging her mace with thunder and fire in her wake. Though Lu Qin’s cultivation surpassed hers, he dodged in a most ungainly fashion.

Once again, the Azure Dragon Clan and Fan Lihua’s path home was obstructed.

Meanwhile, Junyang was manipulating the Soaring Serpent Clan’s family crest, slowly absorbing the radiant power of the Golden Crow Seed. After an afternoon of absorption, the seed had shrunk to barely half its original size.

Just as Junyang was about to further activate the crest to continue, a crack suddenly appeared at the center of the emblem.

This was clearly a bad sign.

He immediately stopped, alarmed, and sent his spiritual sense into the family crest.

Inside, the fierce, fanged clan spirit of the Soaring Serpent Clan was in the midst of shedding its skin.

“Shedding?” Junyang was familiar with the process himself—he shed his skin every thousand years—but the clan spirit had never done so before.

The bizarre sight unsettled Junyang for once. He hurriedly stored the remaining half of the Golden Crow Seed in his pouch and rushed to You Xiyue’s room.

“Little Ancestor…”

You Xiyue frowned in half-sleep, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What is it?”

“My clan’s spirit… it’s shedding its skin…”

You Xiyue perked up, astonished. “That thing can shed its skin?”

A clan spirit could manifest, but it didn’t possess a true body—it only appeared corporeal. How could a bodiless Soaring Serpent spirit shed its skin?

You Xiyue bit her finger, drawing blood, but instead of falling to the ground, the blood rose as a mist, drifting through the air. The blood mist wrapped around the family crest, seeping into it and drawing ever closer to the shedding spirit.

This way, You Xiyue was finally able to sense the spirit’s condition. The blue outer layer of the Soaring Serpent spirit was peeling off, revealing tender white beneath.

“Why is your clan spirit… losing its color?”

Junyang was equally baffled. That spirit had been blue for hundreds of thousands of years—why was it suddenly turning white, just like him?

“There’s nothing wrong with it, is there? I only let it absorb half of the Golden Crow Seed, and it ended up like this.” He felt a stab of guilt—not for himself, but for gambling with the fate of his entire clan.

You Xiyue’s blood mist circled the spirit several times before withdrawing and sinking back into her skin.

“No problem—the faith is strong,” she declared.

Relieved, Junyang’s mind cleared, and he suddenly recalled You Xiyue’s earlier actions. Normally, unless the clan spirit manifested, outsiders couldn’t sense it at all, let alone enter the family crest. Yet You Xiyue had managed to do both, even during the clan spirit’s vulnerable shedding phase—when even Junyang’s own senses were faint, and he could only glimpse a blurry shadow.

“Little Ancestor, you—”