“Do you agree?” Qi Xia asked again. “It’s only eight ‘participants.’ You’re taking an awfully long time to think about it.”
“I know exactly what kind of person you are, so I can’t afford to be careless with any decision,” Qinglong chuckled. “After all, this is a big deal. I need to take it seriously.”
Qi Xia tapped the table. “Qinglong, if even *I* can’t pull off ‘making Tianlong die unexpectedly,’ then you’ve got no one else to turn to.”
“This place keeps producing overconfident ants every now and then. I’m not worried about running out of options.”
“You really believe that?” Qi Xia said. “How many years do you think you’ll have to wait before someone like me shows up here again?”
Qinglong fell silent. After several seconds, he pointed at the paper on the table and asked, “How much of this about the eight strangers can I trust?”
“Asking me that is pointless,” Qi Xia shook his head. “If you see me as a partner, you can trust every word I say. But if you think I’m a liar, then you’ll only believe half of what I say about them.”
Qinglong slowly stood up, picked up the paper, and said softly, “Qi Xia, in my eyes, you *are* a liar.”
“Then choose which half to believe,” Qi Xia replied. “Maybe it’s only the ‘names’ half.”
Qinglong scoffed and turned away, holding up the paper. “Fine, I’ll handle this for you. But if you want it done without a trace, it’ll take at least a year to make all their current teammates disappear gradually. That way, no one in ‘Taoyuan’ will remember them.”
“Good,” Qi Xia nodded. “Qinglong, there’s one more thing.”
Qinglong stopped at the door, clearly displeased with Qi Xia’s tone, but he had no better option.
“No matter how close to failure my actions may seem, you *cannot* interfere,” Qi Xia said. “I need you to trust me completely and keep supporting me. That’s how I guarantee Tianlong’s disappearance.”
Qinglong turned his head slightly, his voice cold. “That’s too absolute. How am I supposed to know when you’ve *actually* failed?”
“Qinglong, remember this,” Qi Xia said. “The moment you choose to interfere, *that’s* when I’ll truly fail.”
…
Qinglong slowly opened his eyes and looked at Xiao Ran in front of him.
“Qinglong… what’s wrong?” Xiao Ran forced a smile. “I can’t… breathe… Can you let me down…?”
Qinglong listened carefully, trying to figure out which of Qi Xia’s teammates she was.
Among the women, she didn’t know what his “immortal arts” were, meaning she couldn’t be one carrying “exquisite artifacts.” She was too foolish to have the nerve to strike a mutually beneficial deal with Qi Xia.
So she was just the “filler” Qi Xia had mentioned.
But if even Qi Xia had lied about her… how could she be ordinary?
Qinglong felt the situation slipping out of control. Was Qi Xia *really* targeting Tianlong in this chaos?
The two “Tianxingjian” generals he sent hadn’t laid a finger on Tianlong. He was certain Tianlong would still be sitting unharmed when he returned to the room.
“I’ll have to kill him myself…” Qinglong looked at Xiao Ran again, deciding to give her one last chance. “Say ‘Qinglong, wait for me.'”
“W-what?”
“Say it.”
Seizing the moment, Qinglong unleashed his “Soul Snatcher,” controlling the woman before him.
Xiao Ran, bewildered, stammered, “Qinglong… wait for me.”
Just as Qinglong expected, the moment those words left her lips, his “Soul Snatcher” vanished without a trace. He had lost all control over her.
Who in this world was truly loyal?
She was clearly a weapon of unimaginable destructive power.
He didn’t know how Qi Xia had achieved such a bizarre effect, but the result spoke for itself: as long as this woman existed, his “Soul Snatcher” would be useless.
“Qinglong… why don’t you understand…?” Xiao Ran said bitterly. “Whatever you ask… I’ll do it…”
Before she could finish, Qinglong tightened his grip.
“Persistent ghost,” Qinglong sneered. “You think you can drag me into eternal damnation?”
Xiao Ran barely had time to process what was happening before her tongue was forced out, her lungs starved of air, her eyes bulging grotesquely.
“Qing… long…” she strained to speak. “I’m here… to… help… you…”
She reached up, touching Qinglong’s wounded forehead. “You’re… hurt… Let me… help…”
“Then help me by dying,” Qinglong grinned. “Dying by my hand is a dignified end for you.”
*Squelch.*
A strange sound erupted as blood gushed from Xiao Ran’s seven orifices, organs and brain matter spraying onto the walls and Qinglong’s face.
Her arm slid limply from his forehead. She hadn’t resisted, even in death.
Her neck, crushed to a thin thread in Qinglong’s grip, left her face twisted in a horrifying death mask.
Still unsatisfied, Qinglong tore her apart in front of the watching “ants,” her corpse collapsing like a dismantled toy. The characters sliced across her chest were now fully exposed.
Qinglong stomped on the four words, grinding her chest into pulp beneath his foot.
“Your scheme’s been foiled, Qi Xia,” Qinglong sneered. “Show me what else you’ve got.” He strode out, casually swatting aside a few more “ants.”
Just as he was about to “Leap” back to the battlefield reserved for “Tianxingjian,” something caught his eye.
The corridor ahead was lined with motionless “participants” and “zodiacs”—some leaning against walls, others bowing their heads—like hundreds of statues stretching into the distance.
“What…?” Qinglong frowned. What was happening? Why were so many people frozen like this?
He’d monitored Qi Xia’s movements extensively but never heard of anything like this.
Time was of the essence. More than these “participants” and “zodiacs,” Tianlong’s fate mattered most.
This battle *had* to end with Tianlong’s death, or all their efforts would be for nothing.
He vanished in a flash, leaving the “ants” behind—completely unaware that farther down, more and more “participants” and “zodiacs” had begun standing still, heads slowly lowering.
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