Chapter 1700: Shadow Crystal

Those electric arcs were clearly quite powerful. Despite the raging blue flames, they merely flickered slightly without budging an inch.

After a brief stalemate in the air, the enormous claw shadow was evidently no match for the massive silver disk formed by the six Dharma wheels below. It shattered inch by inch under the silver light, ultimately collapsing.

Unhindered, the giant disk let out a hum and shot straight toward the puppet’s head, aiming to sever it.

Before it even descended, the space below twisted amidst flashes of spiritual light, emitting eerie undulations as if being cleaved apart.

Seeing this, the Thunder Roc puppet opened its maw and spat out a thick blue arc, as wide as a water vat. The arc transformed into a blue electric flood dragon, claws bared, lunging fiercely and striking the disk squarely.

With a thunderous *boom*, silver light and blue arcs intertwined.

The silver disk spun rapidly, trembling as it let out a mournful cry. Cracks appeared on its surface, and with another flash of light, it split back into six Dharma wheels, tumbling back toward the six diminutive aliens.

Meanwhile, the Thunder Roc’s body crackled with renewed electric arcs. With a deafening roar, it vanished in a flash of light.

The next instant, a blue arc flickered above the three war chariots, and the Thunder Roc reappeared. With a flap of its wings, it swooped down with a gust of foul wind.

The six aliens, though startled, remained composed. In unison, they raised an arm and pressed a palm swiftly against the armored puppets before them.

The three puppets’ eyes gleamed crimson as their bodies erupted with bursts of blue light, swelling rapidly in size.

In the blink of an eye, their masks fell away, revealing towering, green-faced, fanged demonic figures over thirty feet tall.

Six massive ghostly claws slashed through the air, unleashing over a dozen black-blue claw streaks that shot toward the Thunder Roc.

Then, the demons reached behind their backs, grasping twelve silver javelins that had similarly enlarged. The javelins transformed into silver pillars and vanished without a trace.

The void erupted with the sounds of wind and thunder!

The Thunder Roc, expressionless, opened its maw and spat another blue arc. With a press of its claw, an invisible force bore down.

Meanwhile, the six aliens retracted their arms, chanting incantations as their bodies swelled several times over. Over a dozen treasures of various kinds flew from their bodies, transforming into radiant beams of light that joined the assault.

Explosions erupted continuously in midair, waves of shockwaves rolling outward. Dazzling flashes of light made it nearly impossible to look directly at the scene.

The battle raged for a full hour.

When the explosions abruptly ceased and the spiritual light finally dimmed, the Thunder Roc puppet—now missing half its body—plummeted from the sky, vanishing mysteriously into the ruins below.

The three war chariots hovering in the air and the three armored puppets, now restored to their original forms, were also heavily damaged. One puppet even had a gaping hole the size of a bowl in its chest, piercing straight through where its heart would be.

Had it been a living being, such an injury would have been fatal. But as a puppet, it endured.

The six aliens themselves fared little better. Most of the dozen or so treasures orbiting them were destroyed, and their armor was charred black, riddled with dents and nearly ruined.

The six buffalo-like beasts, however, remained unharmed, though they panted heavily, sweat dripping from their bodies.

In summary, while the six aliens emerged victorious against the Thunder Roc puppet, it was a pyrrhic victory—they suffered heavy losses as well.

Yet, upon seeing the puppet crash, the six aliens grinned in delight and immediately urged their chariots downward.

Just then, a cold voice drifted lazily from a nearby cloud.

“Good, very good. Fellow Black Confucian cultivators, by eliminating this puppet, you’ve saved us some trouble.”

As the words faded, the cloud erupted with radiant light, revealing over a dozen figures in varied attire.

At their forefront stood a man in a yellow robe, his youthful face adorned with three short golden horns on his forehead, gleaming conspicuously.

Behind him stood a row of men and women of varying ages, all similarly horned, though their horns differed in color and shape.

At the sight of these figures, the six aliens’ expressions darkened. One of them, seemingly their leader, rasped in a grating voice, “The Horned Race! Why are you here? Have you been tracking us?”

“Tracking? You’re not worth the effort. But since you’re here, don’t expect to leave alive. Attack—send them on their way,” the golden-horned youth sneered, issuing a command to his companions.

The Horned Race members chorused their assent, then surged forward in a fan-shaped formation.

“Go!” The six Black Confucians paled, their leader roaring in fury.

The six beasts beneath their chariots ignited with wind and fire, lunging forward as the three chariots transformed into streaks of blue light, fleeing in the opposite direction.

Faint arcs flickered within the blue light, accompanied by thunderous booms—their speed was astonishing.

Yet, the Horned Race members were even more formidable.

Some of them shimmered with spiritual light, transforming into dazzling rainbows. Others formed hand seals and vanished on the spot. Still others flicked their sleeves, summoning spirit beasts or flying treasures, mounting them to give chase at incredible speeds.

The golden-horned youth, however, remained motionless in the air, arms crossed behind his back, exuding absolute confidence.

His confidence was not unfounded. Though the Black Confucians were a notable race on the Thunder Continent, they were inherently poor at flight. In battle, they relied solely on their crafted chariots.

Under normal circumstances or when dominating an opponent, this weakness mattered little.

But now, after a grueling fight and facing a new, overwhelming foe, it became a fatal flaw.

Events unfolded exactly as he predicted. The three chariots had barely flown a thousand feet when bursts of spiritual light erupted ahead, revealing several figures—the Horned Race members who had vanished earlier, now reappearing through some arcane teleportation.

Without a word, they raised their hands, unleashing a torrent of thunder and fire that crashed down upon the chariots.

The six beasts pulling the chariots, though fierce, instinctively halted, spewing blue flames to counter the aerial assault.

In that brief delay, the remaining Horned Race members closed in on their spirit beasts and treasures, encircling the chariots.

Swords, axes, staves—myriad exotic treasures flew from the Horned Race members, descending in a kaleidoscope of colored light.

The six Black Confucians in the chariots exchanged despairing glances. Even so, they refused to surrender without a fight.

With a collective shout, they slapped their battered armored puppets, transforming them back into towering demons. Simultaneously, they formed hand seals, their bodies swelling once more as silver wheels flew from their backs, multiplying into hundreds of silver moons that shot in all directions.

In their desperation, the six Black Confucians managed to hold their own against the dozen Horned Race members for a time.

But both sides knew this was fleeting. Once the Black Confucians exhausted their mana, their doom would be sealed.

Unbeknownst to them—even to the golden-horned youth—a third party observed everything from a ruined pavilion hundreds of miles away, using a peculiar artifact.

The artifact was a translucent white crystal, its surface displaying the life-and-death struggle between the Horned Race and the Black Confucians, albeit from a distant perspective, as if viewed from over ten miles away.

Before the crystal sat two figures: one calm, the other uneasy.

“What’s going on? Why are the Horned Race here? Could they also be after the ruins’ restrictions?” murmured the slender, white-hooded figure—Liu Shui’er, her voice barely audible.

The other, a young man in a green robe with an unremarkable face, was none other than Han Li.

Though his expression was placid, Han Li’s eyes remained fixed on the crystal. At her words, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly before he replied leisurely, “No need to worry, Fairy Liu. These ruins are vast—it’s unlikely they share our exact goal. Besides, we’re still tens of thousands of miles from the restricted area. If they were after the same thing, why bother fighting the Black Confucians? Still, we should proceed cautiously to avoid detection.”

“Your words reassure me, Brother Han. Perhaps we should relocate farther from these Horned Race members. Once Fellow Daoist Shi arrives, the three of us can join forces to breach the restrictions,” Liu Shui’er suggested after a moment’s thought.

“Agreed. But first, let’s confirm the Horned Race’s intentions. Normally, this would be difficult, but Senior Cai has lent you the famed ‘Reflection Crystal’ of the Crystal Race. With it, we can monitor their movements from a thousand miles away,” Han Li remarked, stroking his chin as he gazed at the crystal.

“Though the Reflection Crystal is incredibly stealthy—even Saint-tier beings would struggle to detect it—it can only reflect ordinary scenes. If they employ any shielding techniques, the crystal becomes useless,” Liu Shui’er frowned.