Chapter 521 — Blinded by Greed
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
Emperor Yanfeng rose in anger, his gaze flickering, and said, "Return the wine jar to me!
" Xing'an remained seated where he was, hand still clamped over the jar's mouth, holding it out toward him. Slowly Emperor Yanfeng stretched out his palm; the reaching out of that hand seemed to cost him unimaginable difficulty, and so short a distance took him the span of half a stick of incense.
By the bonfire, Shen Mu, Xu Shenghua and the rest said not a word, their eyes fixed on the two men's hands.
Xing'an's hand was utterly steady, the arm gripping the jar motionless as a carved thing, while the arm Emperor Yanfeng extended trembled faintly — and not only the arm: his five fingers shivered without cease, and every shiver dealt Shen Mu and the others a shock beyond compare. Each tremor of his arm, each quiver of his fingers, was the equal of casting one divine power; dimly one could see his vital essence condensing to the utmost, turning into countless tiny flood dragons among the lines of the skin of his arm and palm. Beneath his skin, too, true dragons seemed to coil, gathering strength — yet that strength was not perpetually at its fierce peak; it waxed and waned, taut and then slack.
What he cultivated was the Nine Dragons Emperor Art, which he had once taught to Shen Mu; Shen Mu in turn had passed on to Ling Yuxiu another version of the Nine Dragons Emperor Art, comprehended within the lair of the true dragons, and Ling Yuxiu had passed it back to him. Emperor Yanfeng had always been a peerless genius; his Nine Dragons Emperor Art had originally been nothing outstanding, but he had kept refining that art, developing its power to the ultimate, until at last he achieved something extraordinary — enough to stand on a par with the Three Great Holy Lands. After obtaining the art from the true dragons' lair, he had utterly refined away the hidden ailment in his body; his divine treasury was stronger than before, so firm that even Xing'an acknowledged it, holding that his divine treasury had already attained the Divine Realm.
This time he had crossed the Divine Bridge and stepped into the realm of the gods, his cultivation more vigorous than ever. Seeing the true-dragon power beneath the skin of his arm wax and wane, waxing and waning with such mastery, Shen Mu and Ling Yuxiu were both deeply shaken, gaining no small measure of insight and understanding.
The Nine Dragons Emperor Art Shen Mu had passed to Ling Yuxiu was likewise not the complete true-dragon art; he had been unable to decipher all of the dragon-script upon it. Later, with the help of Bai Qingfu and his sister, Shen Mu deciphered more of the dragon script, raising the art another level — but after returning to Jingping, he had not yet found time to pass the fuller version on to Ling Yuxiu.
That Emperor Yanfeng, working from fragments, should have cultivated it to such a degree, refining the Nine Dragons Emperor Art until it seemed on the verge of entering the Dao, was truly inconceivable. And yet, even with his true-dragon divine power about to enter the Dao, before Xing'an he still advanced with difficulty. Every inch his palm pushed forward cost him boundless hardship; his manifold transformations of divine power, well concealed as they were, seemed shabby beside Xing'an's mountain-steady hand.
At last Emperor Yanfeng's hand closed upon the jar's mouth. In that instant Xing'an crooked a finger and flicked it, his index finger stabbing at the emperor's palm. Emperor Yanfeng flicked a finger up in answer; the two fingers met, and from within the wine jar came a faint sound of wind, as though stirred by the force of their fingers.
At the mouth of the jar their fingers were like shadows, exchanging in swift succession — who knew how many strikes.
"Crack. " Emperor Yanfeng's expression shifted slightly: the middle-finger ridge of his knuckle had broken.