Tao Lao's appearance may not have been much to look at, but as he drifted over now, his broad sleeves billowing in the wind, he carried a certain otherworldly air that commanded respect. Moreover, the aura radiating from his body clearly indicated a cultivation at the third level of the Emperor Realm.
Ying Fei glanced sideways, let out a savage laugh, and moved with lightning speed to subdue the last remaining Mitian Sect Elder, slapping a sealing restriction onto his body to lock down his cultivation. Then his figure flickered left and right as he advanced to meet Tao Lao.
Of the thirty-two Demon Kings of the Primordial Ancient Lands, in terms of raw strength, Ying Fei might not rank in the top three, but in terms of speed, none could match him. Even the three Sacred Spirits would have to concede that point.
In the blink of an eye, Ying Fei had closed the distance to within a hundred zhang of Tao Lao and was still rapidly closing in.
Yet Tao Lao, flying straight toward him, remained completely unruffled. He reached down and patted a cloth pouch at his waist, then flung it directly at Ying Fei.
The pouch's mouth gaped open in the wind, aimed squarely at Ying Fei, and from within erupted a tremendous suction force. A howling gale whipped up as the pull intensified.
Ying Fei did not underestimate the situation. He did not know what kind of Artifact this pouch was, but anything wielded by a third-level Emperor Realm powerhouse would hardly lack power. His figure zigzagged in an evasive pattern as he tried to avoid the pouch's opening.
To his surprise, the pouch suddenly swelled at tremendous speed, expanding until it was larger than a house. From inside it, a massive cyan handprint shot out, clawing directly at Ying Fei.
Ying Fei was startled. He instinctively tried to dodge, only to discover with horror that the demonic energy within his body was boiling and destabilizing, as though something had thrown it into chaos. Caught completely off guard, he was snatched up by the giant handprint, pain flashing across his face.
The cyan handprint seized Ying Fei and immediately retracted, shrinking back into the pouch. Ying Fei vanished along with it. Tao Lao raised his hand and retrieved the pouch.
"Old Eagle!" Xi Lei's face changed drastically. He cried out in alarm, eyeing the pouch with extreme wariness. As a fellow Demon King, he knew full well how formidable Ying Fei was, yet this speed-focused Demon King had been captured without the slightest chance to fight back, stuffed into a pouch as though he were nothing. Had he not witnessed it himself, he would never have believed it.
He knew this was not the white-haired old man's own ability, but rather the power of that peculiar Artifact pouch. He had no idea what kind of object it was to possess such a miraculous effect.
Over on the other side, the poisonous mist Xie Wuwei had unleashed was churning violently, a clear sign of his emotional upheaval.
Meanwhile, Mi Qi, who had been forced into retreat by Xi Lei, burst into laughter. "Thank you, Tao Lao!" His painstaking preparations had paid off. In that moment, he felt nothing but admiration for his own foresight.
Against any other third-level Emperor Realm cultivator, Tao Lao might not have had such an easy time. But these were Demon Kings, and dealing with the demon race happened to be Tao Lao's specialty.
Seizing the moment while Xi Lei was distracted, Mi Qi shot backward, breaking free of Xi Lei's entanglement in an instant. He landed beside Tao Lao and cupped his fists. "Tao Lao, these scoundrels have gone too far. I humbly ask for your continued assistance."
Tao Lao's expression remained blank. He gave a slight nod. "Say no more."
Things had already progressed to this point — he had intervened whether he wanted to or not, so he might as well see it through. The sudden appearance of three Demon Kings here had caught him off guard as well. Capturing all three would complete his mission. Even without Mi Qi's request, he would have continued.
"Old dog, die!" Xi Lei roared, lightning arcs crackling across his body as a phantom of a fierce beast flashed and vanished behind his back. His fury was genuine. He had assumed that coming with Yang Kai to the Mitian Sect would be a simple matter of crushing all opposition. Who could have guessed that Ying Fei would be captured the moment they exchanged blows? Ying Fei's capture was a loss of face for the entire Primordial Ancient Lands — Xi Lei would not let this stand.
Facing Xi Lei's blazing rage, Tao Lao remained utterly calm. His response was equally direct: he tossed the cloth pouch into the air once more.
Xi Lei's charging figure ground to a halt as he looked up and saw the pouch opening its mouth directly above him. A powerful suction force poured down from within. That alone might have been manageable — with his strength, he could have resisted the pull. But the critical problem was the cyan handprint that shot out from the pouch again. The moment it appeared, Xi Lei felt his demonic energy grow chaotic and unstable.
That sent his soul into a panic. He instantly understood how Ying Fei had been captured.
Before he could resist, the cyan handprint seized him and dragged him straight back into the pouch.
This time, Tao Lao did not retrieve the pouch. Instead, he formed a series of hand seals, and the pouch's mouth swiveled to aim at the mass of poisonous mist hanging in the air.
The mist was Xie Wuwei's doing. When the battle had erupted, he had pulled several Mitian Sect Emperor Realm cultivators inside it. No one knew how the fight within was going, but judging from the panicked screams of the Mitian Sect Elders, Xie Wuwei held a decisive advantage.
The cyan handprint emerged once more, though noticeably dimmer than before — it seemed to be a consumable, unable to withstand more than a few uses before fading entirely.
But having seen what happened to Ying Fei and Xi Lei, Xie Wuwei dared not take any chances. The mist churned violently as his figure burst out of it, fleeing at top speed toward Yang Kai's position.
The cyan handprint pursued him like a parasite clinging to bone, impossible to shake. Its speed was extraordinary, and before Xie Wuwei had fled very far, it caught him and swiftly retracted.
Only after Xie Wuwei had been sucked into the pouch did Tao Lao form another seal. The pouch's mouth cinched shut, floated back to his hand, and was tucked away at his waist where it hung.
This entire sequence of events had unfolded in the span of a flash, leaving everyone's eyes unable to keep up. The three Demon Kings had arrived with overwhelming battle intent and menacing momentum. The people of the Mitian Sect had seemed utterly powerless to resist — yet a white-haired old man and a strange cloth pouch had turned the entire situation on its head, leaving every last person stunned.
Li Jiao and the Emperor Realm cultivators from the Lilong Palace had no desire to advance any further. The moment they had made a show of attacking, they had recoiled in terror.
If the three Demon Kings were no match for the white-haired old man, what chance did they have?