"A Poison Flood Dragon!"
Han Li's heart clenched, and a rare look of fear crossed his face.
This spirit beast was vivid crimson, its body stretching a hundred zhang in length — nearly identical to the Ink Flood Dragon he had encountered before. It was a genuine flood dragon, and not just any variant. It was the dreaded Poison Flood Dragon, notorious among dragon-kind for its ferocity.
From the spiritual light that flowed across its crimson scales — dense enough to be almost tangible — it was unmistakably an eighth-level spirit beast.
The inexplicable pressure it radiated was something Han Li had only ever felt from those Nascent Soul old monsters.
Flood dragons were among the few celestial spirit beasts that had persisted since ancient times. Not only did they cultivate far faster than ordinary spirit beasts, but once they achieved mastery, their Magical Power and divine abilities far surpassed those of cultivators at the same level. For a pure-blooded flood dragon, it was not even impossible to slay an enemy of a higher realm.
If the records in the ancient texts were accurate, then although this Poison Flood Dragon was only an eighth-level spirit beast, it could hold its own even against a ninth-level opponent without giving an inch.
How could Han Li not be alarmed by this?
He nearly fled on the spot, but his reason held — he dared not act rashly.
Two streaks of light were hurtling toward this location from the distance, and from the look of them, they bore no friendly intent. Escaping in the chaos would be far better than revealing his position through premature movement.
Even so, Han Li quietly draped the Blood-red Cloak over his shoulders and, with a subtle flick of both hands, materialized the Five Elements Ring and the Spirit Net in his grip.
Only then did he feel somewhat reassured.
By now, the Poison Flood Dragon had ceased its long roar. It twisted its massive dragon head and cast a glance at the giant turtle still desperately resisting the lightning, a flicker of something strange passing through its eyes.
Then, an eerie blue radiance erupted from its body, and its colossal form rapidly shrank and reshaped within the glow.
Moments later, where the enormous beast had been, a humanoid figure roughly the size of an ordinary person now stood.
Its head remained the same hideous dragon head, utterly unchanged, but its body and limbs had transformed into a human-like form. Crimson scales covered it from head to toe, and a thick, heavy tail still hung behind it, swaying back and forth ceaselessly.
Seeing the flood dragon's transformation, Han Li felt a chill of horror deep in his heart.
The humanoid Poison Flood Dragon stood bare-handed atop the waves as though walking on flat ground, its body not swaying even slightly.
But after assuming human form, the creature's emerald-green eyes casually swept in Han Li's direction — toward his hiding spot. The frigid, sinister intent within that gaze sent ice flooding through Han Li's entire body, and cold sweat poured from the palms gripping the two ancient treasures.
Fortunately, at that very moment, the golden light and the red radiance from two different directions arrived at nearly the same time.
The Poison Flood Dragon immediately lost interest in Han Li. Its cold gaze turned toward the three figures who had revealed themselves in the sky.
Within the golden light was an elderly Daoist of otherworldly bearing — a celestial immortal come to earth. A treasured sword hung at his back, a whisk rested in his hand, and he wore a brilliant golden Daoist robe embroidered with the Eight Trigrams. He stroked his beard as he studied the humanoid Poison Flood Dragon, his face a picture of shock. Yet behind the astonishment, a glint of greed flickered through his eyes.
Standing not far from the Daoist was a pair of middle-aged men with strikingly similar features. Both had ashen, corpse-like complexions and wore eye-catching crimson robes identical down to the last detail. The only difference was that one carried an enormous red gourd on his back, while the other held a ghost-headed cane roughly a zhang tall.
The two men first glanced down at the giant turtle and the Poison Flood Dragon, then at the Daoist across from them, their expressions utterly blank. They said nothing.
Of these three, the old Daoist possessed early Nascent Soul cultivation, while the two middle-aged men were merely at the late Core Formation stage. What puzzled Han Li, however, was that these two red-robed men conducted themselves with complete composure before both the Poison Flood Dragon and the Nascent Soul Daoist, without the slightest trace of fear.
"Heh heh! I never expected to run into Fellow Daoists Huo here. This old Daoist is truly remiss!" The old Daoist's eyes darted back and forth for a moment before he suddenly addressed the two red-robed men with a warm smile.
"Nor did we expect to encounter Senior Jinxia at a place like this. Might Senior be planning to hunt the two spirit beasts below? If so, my brother and I would gladly yield them to you." The red-robed man carrying the gourd twitched his face slightly, his expression unchanged, and spoke evenly.
Upon hearing this, the old Daoist felt a surge of frustration.
The Poison Flood Dragon below was equivalent to a ninth-level spirit beast. No matter how confident he was, he did not believe he could take it down alone.
Had it not been for the sharpness of his magical treasures, he wouldn't even have dared set his sights on the creature!
After furrowing his brow several times, the old Daoist simply cleared his throat with a dry cough and spoke plainly: