119: Chapter 120 Prince-Level Distant Shadow

The moment the Unnamed Attendant finished speaking, the dense mass of egg patterns on his ankles opened in unison.

The dark, sunken fissures were like countless tiny mouths suddenly awakened, each small throat madly spewing out grey threads.

The old nail Wen Zhao had driven into the ground beneath him suddenly bent, the shaft emitting a piercing metallic wail, as if some ancient Magical Artifact were enduring a strain beyond its limits.

Qiao Ye, being the closest, instinctively raised his shield, the old scars on its surface appearing as ferocious as a beast in the firelight.

Instructor Han Tiecheng's voice rolled in from the tent entrance like a thunderclap: "Retreat!"

Two black iron pressure bars were instantly pushed up by the grey threads, emitting a teeth-grinding screech.

The Unnamed Attendant's shoulder and knee bones were gripped from within by some invisible giant hand, and though he did not stand up, he was forced into the shape of an eerie bridge.

Beneath the bridge was his face pressed against the grey ground, that pieced-together visage rapidly losing its human shape; above the bridge, grey-black parasitic threads drilled out from the gaps in his armor, his teeth, the corners of his eyes, and every pore on his body, like an evil plant suddenly forced to maturity, madly stretching out its filthy roots.

The Temple Inspector raised a hand to apply the seal, fingertips already touching the cold-glowing Temple Seal.

Lu Jin barked an interruption: "Do not use the outer seal!"

The Inspector's fingers froze in mid-air, just three inches from the Unnamed Attendant's brow: "The Outer God parasitic threads have already burst; according to Temple regulations, we must seal it immediately!"

Lu Jin's gaze was locked tight onto those grey threads, watching them like sharks that had scented blood, madly crawling toward the field-sealing line: "Did you not see enough of how the outer fire buckle was tainted just now? Using the outer regulations again is merely handing it a second key."

The Inspector's face was extremely ugly, the veins on his forehead throbbing, but his seal ultimately did not descend.

Young Master Pei Tiange also spoke in the same breath, his voice as cold as if it had been dredged from ten-thousand-year black ice: "Pei family lines, retreat three squares."

Pei Chengxu immediately relayed the order, and the Pei family attendants all retreated, their movements uniform and synchronized. This time, no one argued, for everyone understood—the thing before them was no longer an existence that could be suppressed by ordinary rules.

The Unnamed Attendant spewed more and more grey threads; they did not collide chaotically but were precisely controlled by some higher will, splitting into three strands.

The first strand clung toward the Half-Gate Fire Line, as if to lick the residual warmth of the Royal Court remaining on that ancient gate; the second strand wound toward the outer edge of the Living Registry Anchor, like a venomous snake coiling toward its prey's heart; the third, the thinnest and most sinister, was like a tongue with an acute sense of smell, sliding silently toward the edge of Lu Jin's Divine Domain projection, its target pointed directly at the egg tray in Wu Fu's arms.

Wu Fu's pupils suddenly turned vertical, and dense nest patterns erupted on the back of her hands holding the egg tray: "It is smelling me." Her voice was cold and thorny, yet the tail end trembled slightly, "Lu Jin, it is smelling my tray; it wants to taste what is inside!"

Grey Pupil was already standing by the Priest Well, the sacrificial staff in his hand not yet brought down. Those grey eyes were fixed on the trajectory of the three grey threads, as if reading an ancient sacrificial text written in filthy blood, every character exuding an evil that made one's spine chill.

"It is looking at three places." Grey Pupil's voice was low and slow, as if coming from deep underground, "The gate, the anchor, the nest. It does not want one person; it wants the Foundation of the entire line."

The black fire in Lu Jin's palm sank, and the fire line along the edge of the Half-Gate lowered with it. The firelight shifted from blazing to somber, like a beast that had retracted its claws, re-evaluating the weight of its prey.

"Grey Pupil, purification sacrificial sequence."

"Wu Fu, dead shell powder."

"Wen Zhao, do not pull the old nail."

Wen Zhao gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning pale from excessive force, the tail of the nail searing his palm and emitting sizzling white smoke: "I can hold for two more breaths."

"Hold for three breaths," Lu Jin said, his voice containing no room for negotiation, only an undeniable certainty, "For the extra breath, I will compensate you with a good nail later, taken from the public account of my vanguard line."

Wen Zhao's forehead was covered in cold sweat, but the corners of his mouth twitched in this torture-like ordeal, pulling into a stubborn arc: "Put it on the tab."

Young Master Su Jiuheng immediately chimed in from the side, his voice carrying the shrewdness typical of a merchant and a lightness that seemed exceptionally precious in this situation: "I'll bear witness; I love keeping such accounts. Remember to come to me when calculating the interest later."

In the tent, tightened to the point of freezing, these words squeezed out a bit of humanity, like a breath of hot air suddenly blown into the depth of winter, allowing everyone's stiffened fingers to relax by half.

The next instant, the armor on the Unnamed Attendant's chest exploded with a roar.

It was not fire that exploded, but a layer of damp grey membrane inside that was ruptured from within by some force.

The grey membrane flipped outward, revealing a very small eye—that eye grew in the center of his sternum, possessing no whites, only circles of black-gold throat patterns slowly rotating around the pupil, as if some ancient totem were awakening.

When it opened, all the fire lines in the tent dimmed for a breath, as if even light had chosen to submit before this eye.

The Temple Inspector's back went cold, his voice as dry as sandpaper rubbing against bone: "Prince-level Distant Shadow... a Prince-level Distant Shadow of the Wicked Throat Royal Court..."

Grey Pupil stared at that eye, slowly chanting a syllable.

That syllable did not seem to come from his mouth; it was more like it rolled out from those egg patterns—damp, thin, carrying the rustling sound of bone powder being ground in a throat, every tremolo sounding like it was scratching directly on one's brain marrow: "Serom."

The eye on the sternum moved.

It did not look at Grey Pupil, nor did it look at Young Master Pei Tiange.

It bypassed all field-sealing lines, bypassed those Human Race defense lines standing in strict formation, and looked straight at the Half-Gate.

The back teeth of the Royal Court Half-Gate went slightly cold under its gaze, like a subject being stared at by a more ancient existence; the ring of fire patterns on the outer edge of the Living Registry Anchor was also pressed downward by that stare, the anchor body emitting a low hum, as if resisting, and yet also as if in fear.

Lu Jin raised a hand, the black fire pressing against the anchor edge, his voice as calm as if making small talk with an uninvited guest: "Have you seen enough?"

The eye finally turned toward him.

The Unnamed Attendant's mouth opened and closed twice, but the voice that emerged did not sound like his.

It was as if many thin throats were squeezed into a rotten pipe, laughing as they spoke the same sentence, every word carrying overlapping echoes, like millions of insects beating their wings simultaneously: "The Human Race's gate is still so fond of noise. For thousands of years, you always open the crack too wide when you shouldn't."

Qiao Ye felt goosebumps rise all over, his knuckles on the shield turning white: "This thing can speak human language?"

The smile usually hanging on Young Master Su Jiuheng's face had long since been wiped clean, his voice suppressed extremely low: "Things that can speak human language are usually more expensive and more troublesome. Because they understand the rules and know how to use the cracks within the rules."

Lu Jin ignored Serom's mockery, his voice as steady as a rock: "Grey Pupil."

Grey Pupil brought down the sacrificial staff.

In the Priest Well, three rings of grey fire floated up one after another, like three lighthouses rising from the underground.

The first ring pressed onto the Half-Gate Fire Line, stabilizing the gate that was being peered at; the second ring pressed onto the outer edge of the Living Registry Anchor, protecting the anchor line that connected the past with the present; the third ring did not press toward the Unnamed Attendant, but landed on the Purification Spore Shell Lu Jin had taken out.

That Spore Shell was thicker than the test washing tray used in Chapter 96, its outer layer of purification grey shell bearing old cracks, the cracks re-stitched by Work Nest fine threads, like an old armor that had been mended countless times yet remained resilient.

Inside, it still had three grey chambers—purification grey, Sacrificial Fire residual ash, and dead shell powder, each chamber containing means to deal with different types of contamination.

As soon as Wu Fu saw it, her expression became even worse, as if someone had touched her reverse scale: "I just finished mending this one."

Lu Jin said: "Borrow it for now."

"Every time you say borrow, it ends up shattered." She cursed, yet her movements were faster than anyone's; nest threads curled up a small bone box, the lid opened, revealing grey-white dead shell powder inside.

The powder had no fragrance, nor did it have a rotten smell; it was as dry as burnt old eggshells, every grain exuding a sense of emptiness that made one's heart palpitate.

Wu Fu grabbed a handful and sprinkled it at the entrance of the third chamber of the Purification Spore Shell, her eyes locked onto the eye on the sternum: "Do not give it any living scent. If it dares to lick, I will let it lick a mouthful of empty shell ash and choke it to death."

Hearing this, the Serom Distant Shadow's eye on the sternum slowly turned to look at Wu Fu.

The egg tray in Wu Fu's arms immediately tightened, all the holes on the tray surface closing, and a few Work Rats guarding the tray curled themselves into a circle, blocking the edge of the tray and emitting faint, dense squeaking sounds.

The tip of Wu Fu's tail stiffened; she took half a step back, then stopped, as if pinned to the spot by some instinct.

"What are you looking at?" She hugged the egg tray even tighter, her voice carrying the ferocity typical of a mother beast protecting her young, "If you look again, I'll dig out your eye and string that ring of black-gold throat patterns into a necklace to hang on the side of the tray."

The eye on the sternum did not blink. It seemed to be tasting, evaluating, and memorizing.

That thinnest grey thread immediately changed direction, no longer heading toward the Half-Gate, but instead sliding along the ground toward the edge of Wu Fu's projection, like a venomous snake that had found new prey, adjusting its attack angle.

Grey Pupil held his sacrificial staff horizontally, his voice short and sharp: "Fire."

Lu Jin lowered the black fire by three parts.

The third ring of grey fire immediately closed, forcing that grey thread toward the Purification Spore Shell, like a mouth that had been open for a long time, waiting for the prey to deliver itself to the door.

The Serom Distant Shadow laughed, the laughter carrying a kind of hair-raising appreciation: "A nest that can grow. A spore that can wash. And a half-open gate. Very good, you are much more interesting than the previous batch of gatekeepers."

Lu Jin said: "You talk too much."

He pushed the Purification Spore Shell forward, and the Spore Shell rolled along the ground to the chest of the Unnamed Attendant.

That grey thread did not dodge; it was as if it had long been waiting for this bait, drilling into the gaps of the shell surface, its movements greedy and eager.

The Temple Inspector blurted out: "Don't let it enter the Spore Shell! Once the Spore Shell is contaminated, the entire Magical Artifact will be ruined!"

Lu Jin glanced at him, his gaze like a knife: "Side-witness."

The Inspector was pinned by this glance, the second half of his sentence stuck in his throat.

The side-witness deacon reacted faster, the tip of his pen already landing on the detailed record book, writing rapidly amidst violent trembling: "Purification Spore Shell second combat engagement. Living spore disaster not released. Three empty shell chambers opened."

The grey thread drilled into the first chamber. The purification grey immediately turned white, like rice paper splashed with thick ink.

This time, it did not collide chaotically like the test needle; it opened a small throat in the purification grey, wanting to swallow the entire chamber's grey material, as if learning, adapting, and digesting the Human Race's defense.

Wu Fu's eyes turned cold: "It is eating the ash."

Grey Pupil said: "It is learning purification. This thing has intelligence; it is memorizing our methods."

Lu Jin pressed down with the black fire in his palm, his voice cold and hard: "Then don't let it eat it all."

Grey Pupil tapped the sacrificial staff three times in succession. The third ring of grey fire split into nine fine needles, piercing into the outer layer of the Spore Shell, pinning the purification grey in place.

The grey thread could only swallow the outermost layer, and as soon as it swallowed it, that layer of purification grey formed a hard shell inside its throat, as if it had swallowed a handful of red-hot charcoal, choking it to the point of being caught in a dilemma of neither advancing nor retreating.

The eye on the sternum paused, and a faint cough issued from the Unnamed Attendant's throat, as if he had been choked.

Qiao Ye's eyes lit up: "Choked?"

Young Master Su Jiuheng said in a low voice: "Brother Qiao, that you can be so descriptive at a time like this, I admire you."

Qiao Ye had no time to pay him any mind. The second strand of grey thread had already drilled into the second chamber, and the Sacrificial Fire residual ash met it, like a pack of wolves that had scented blood.

Grey Pupil's complexion turned slightly pale; this time he did not burn it down with one strike of the staff, but pressed the Sacrificial Fire into a very thin ring, slowly tightening it against the outer skin of the grey thread, like putting a fire hoop onto a dirty needle.

"It cannot be burned off," Grey Pupil said in a low voice, every word carrying heavy restraint, "The broken end will return to the well, and once it returns to the well, it can never be caught again."

Lu Jin said: "Just keep it trapped."

The Temple Inspector stared intently at the inside of the Spore Shell, the hands of the side-witness deacon behind him trembling, the tip of the pen scratching crooked marks on the paper surface.

Once the grey thread was trapped by the fire hoop, it immediately fled toward the third chamber, like a mouse whose tail had been singed by fire.

The third chamber was filled with dead shell powder. This was exactly the mouthful Wu Fu had been waiting for.

She yanked the nest threads, and the dead shell powder, like a collapsing wall of white ash, buried the entire grey thread.

The grey thread twisted madly in the powder, but the dead shell powder had no living scent, no flesh and blood, no eggs, and no damp heat that could allow it to grow.

Wherever it drilled, there was only emptiness, death, and a barrenness where even despair could be starved to death.

Wu Fu gritted her teeth, grinding them with a clacking sound: "Starve to death. In my ash, you don't even have the nourishment to have a nightmare."

The Serom Distant Shadow's laughter suddenly stopped for a moment.

The eye on the sternum looked toward the Purification Spore Shell, the black-gold throat patterns in that eye slowly tightening, as if re-evaluating the prey before it.

All the grey threads inside the Unnamed Attendant vibrated simultaneously, and the first point of grey dampness on the ground, which had been pressed down by Wen Zhao's old nail, cracked open a circle of fine lines, like a spider web that was disintegrating.

Wen Zhao let out a muffled groan, the old nail bending a bit more, the tail of the nail almost piercing his palm.

Ning Yanqiu immediately raised her hand, a line of cold white from the Cold Mirror Auxiliary Seal pressing over, stabilizing the empty space above the old nail.

The cold color on her fingertips had not yet receded, and this press was very precise, and also very painful, as if stabbing an ice pick into her own blood vessels.

Master Crow let out a low cry on her shoulder, a ring of frost flowers exploding at the edges of its feathers.

Lu Jin did not look back, his voice steady: "Wen Zhao."

"Still here," Wen Zhao's voice was hoarse, as rough as if dredged from an earthenware pot, "The well-bottom line has not broken."

Lu Jin said: "Good."

He raised his hand, pressing the fire line along the outer edge of the Living Registry Anchor down another fraction.

The third chamber of the Purification Spore Shell snapped shut violently.

Snap.

The shell opening locked shut.

The grey thread that had drilled inside was locked in the dead shell powder, like a gecko whose tail had been severed, twisting madly in the darkness with nowhere to escape.

The eye on the sternum immediately contracted, but the Serom Distant Shadow was not angry; instead, it seemed more like it was laughing, the laughter carrying a playfulness that made one's blood freeze: "Stealing my line? Human Race, you are always so fond of picking up things others have dropped on the ground."

Lu Jin said: "Sealing your filthy things, don't inflate your own value. This is not stealing; it is extermination."