“Reveal yourself, vile demon, or face my wrath!” Ming Ying's voice rang out as he brandished his sword, the cold gleam of its blade reflecting the flickering lantern-like eyes emerging from the water.

A thin, forked tongue flicked out from beneath the lanterns, carrying droplets of foul-smelling venom. As the venom hit the murky river, it spread a dark, inky stain across the water.

“Be cautious, this serpent is highly poisonous!” Ming Ying tightened his grip on his sword, his expression vigilant.

“Draw it to the shore,” Zhou Cen commanded, his gaze darkening as he calculated the distance. With a swift motion, he summoned his spirit sword and slashed at the river.

A massive wave erupted from the previously calm river, black droplets of water spiraling into the air. As they threatened to fall back down, a series of dazzling sword lights wove into a net, catching the black water mid-air.

Moments later, a searing flame ignited along the sword net, turning the black water into black smoke.

Simultaneously, Ming Ying leaped into action. He formed a sword gesture with his left hand and raised his sword high with his right, spinning mid-air. “Ten Thousand Swords Return to the Origin!”

With a fierce shout, countless swords shot out from around Ming Ying, their sharp edges gleaming, exuding a chilling killing intent.

“Wow,” Jin Hong gasped, her mouth agape like a country bumpkin, marveling at the spectacular sword display.

Xing Miao glanced at Ming Ying's showy techniques, then at Ling Ji, who continued eating quietly. She suddenly felt sympathy for this self-important elder.

Flirting with the blind—utterly pointless.

He’d be better off taking a practical approach like Zhou Cen. No wonder Zhou Cen was a deputy director while Ming Ying remained just an elder.

“Hiss, hiss!” The giant serpent, forced out of the water by Zhou Cen's initial strike, had no time to react before being bombarded by Ming Ying's swords. Though its scales were tough as iron, some swords found their mark.

“Hiss!!” The serpent's eyes reddened with pain, tears streaming down its face as its lantern-like eyes shot a death glare at Ming Ying.

Ming Ying shivered under its hateful gaze. Why did it feel like he had killed his entire family?

But he hadn’t killed any serpent demons recently. Not even a related species—wait, he had been chasing a yellow dragon not long ago.

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Realizing this, Ming Ying's gaze shifted from Ling Ji to the serpent. “Could it be? Is that yellow dragon your father?”

Remarkably, they did look alike. The father was earth-colored, and the son was dung-colored—both equally ugly.

“Hiss!!!” The serpent, enraged by the mention of the yellow dragon, coiled itself like a spring and launched at Ming Ying like a cannonball.

Ming Ying dodged swiftly, tossing several talismans from his storage pouch.

“Boom.”

“Hiss!!!”

An explosion echoed, followed by a piercing scream that drowned out the thunder.

Jin Hong covered her ears but couldn’t resist glancing at the sky.

“Who do you think will win, my lord?”

“Who do you hope will win?”

After a moment's hesitation, Jin Hong decisively chose Ming Ying. “That serpent is too ugly.”

She had heard Ming Ying's earlier comments and shared his sentiments. Given the yellow dragon died at Ling Ji's hands, she didn’t want the serpent to win, out of both personal and principled reasons.

However, Jin Hong found it odd that the serpent only attacked Ming Ying. Zhou Cen had initiated the fight, and Ling Ji killed the yellow dragon, yet it fixated on Ming Ying.

“Maybe it's picking the weaker target?”

“Ming Ying carries the yellow dragon's demon core, possibly triggering a familial response,” Xing Miao explained, turning away from the serpent's suffering. “This child is quite filial.”

In demon society, there was an unspoken rule: hurt one, expect retaliation. Killing the young warranted a vendetta from the old. Thus, demon battles rarely ended in death unless the hatred was insurmountable.

“Your observation skills need work; that's a female serpent,” Ling Ji interjected, casually finishing her meal.

“A female?” Xing Miao and Jin Hong exclaimed, examining the serpent more closely. Its grotesque, dung-colored body and menacing features were repulsive.

“Moreover,” Ling Ji added nonchalantly, “she's not the yellow dragon's daughter; she's his mother.”

“What?!” Xing Miao, Jin Hong, and even Zhou Cen, returning from the river, were shocked. “That defies logic!”

If Ling Ji weren’t so powerful, they would’ve dismissed her claim. Demon strength typically increased with age; it didn’t make sense for a mother to be a serpent and the son a dragon.

“Our lord is always right,” Jin Hong defended Ling Ji, puffing up with pride. “If it seems impossible, it's because you're uninformed.”

Zhou Cen, having calmed down, nodded at Jin Hong's retort. “You're right.”

As deputy director, Zhou Cen had seen numerous schemes and plots. This situation reeked of conspiracy.

“Something’s off here,” Zhou Cen muttered, his mind racing. “Ming Ying, keep it alive.”

“Got it a long time ago,” Ming Ying replied, though the serpent's aggressive attacks had left little room for thought. Now, adjusting his aim, he slashed its side instead of delivering a fatal blow.

A spray of blood accompanied a large chunk of flesh falling, resembling a giant brown lump from a distance.

“So weak,” Ling Ji remarked, disappointment evident in her cold eyes. “The serpent is indeed weak.”

Jin Hong echoed Ling Ji's sentiment.

She had realized the serpent's strength lay in its size and brute force, not skill. Manipulating water was a basic trait for aquatic demons.

“Humans are weak too,” Ling Ji said, sitting on a clean rock, her disdain extending to Ming Ying. His techniques, though flashy, lacked substance.

“They’re far inferior to the cultivators of my time.”

Zhou Cen's face reddened at her critique. He had hoped Ming Ying would impress her, but he intervened instead, joining the battle.

With Zhou Cen's help, Ming Ying quickly overpowered the serpent, leaving it wounded and whimpering.

“Thud!” Zhou Cen's heavy sword struck the serpent's head, forcing it to spit blood and collapse into a deep pit.

“Impressive sword,” Ling Ji finally praised Zhou Cen's black iron sword. “I didn’t expect you to wield such a heavy weapon.”

“Your praise honors me, elder,” Zhou Cen replied, caressing the sword's edge with a fond smile.

“Hiss, hiss,” the serpent tried to rise from the pit, but Ling Ji's harsh words made it tremble and collapse. “Hiss...”

The sound faded into a whimper.

The trio's eyes turned to Ling Ji in awe.

“Your powers are incredible,” Jin Hong was the first to flatter.

“Your abilities grow stronger by the day, elder,” Xing Miao added.

Ming Ying, watching his flattering junior, refrained from lecturing, hearing Zhou Cen’s sincere praise. “Truly, Ling Ji's power is unmatched.”

Ming Ying: “…”

Should I join in the flattery?

“Curious,” Ling Ji mused, inspecting the serpent. “Though weaker than its son, it submits to my bloodline. Its lineage is purer than the dragon's.”

As the dragon, ruler of all scaled creatures, commands aquatic demons, making a lowly serpent submit is easy.

Had the serpent not been blinded by rage, it would’ve recognized Ling Ji's superiority and not dared to defy her.

“Who fathered your son?” Ling Ji asked the serpent.

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