"The way you're talking, it's as though you've seen it with your own eyes. Didn't you say you've never entered the Fallen Demon Valley?" Something stirred in Han Li's mind, and he deliberately probed further.
"Hmph! Just because I haven't seen it doesn't mean I haven't heard. When I first entered the valley, several of my old friends — though their abilities were far inferior to mine, they were by no means ordinary cultivators — joined forces, yet only one of them managed to escape with his life barely hanging by a thread. That alone shows you how fearsome the Ancient Demons' dark arts truly are." The Grand Arcane Lord snorted several times, clearly intending to make Han Li take heed.
Han Li smiled at this and was about to ask more when a pained roar suddenly erupted from the black qi fleeing in the distance. At once, a violent tornado swept through the dark demonic mist, scattering it all and revealing the "Marquis of Nanlong" within.
The moment Ancestor Linghu and the white-robed woman caught sight of him, their expressions changed drastically and they both drew sharp breaths.
Was this still human?
The "Marquis of Nanlong" before them had completely transformed into a two-headed, four-armed monstrosity. From a single neck — one head thrust forward, the other back, one large and one small — protruded two hideous heads, and from his shoulders, both front and back, grew four abnormally long demon arms that extended past his knees.
The face of the front head was covered in patches of purple scales, with a white horn several inches long sprouting from its forehead. Yet judging by the brows, eyes, nose, and overall proportions, it was still the original head.
But the second, slightly smaller head that had forced its way out from behind the first's neck was entirely monstrous in appearance.
Though it too had a horn on its forehead and scales on its cheeks, its face was green-skinned with bared fangs. Between its dark lips, which opened and closed, a tongue — black-red and tinged purple, covered in fleshy barbs — lashed out over a foot long before snapping back. Like a venomous snake.
Even more chilling were its eyes. The pupils were narrow as slits, gleaming with a cold silver-white light, and as they rolled about, they held not a single shred of emotion. One look confirmed they were something no human could possess.
It was not just the head. The body below the neck and all four long arms were similarly sheathed in deep-purple scales, densely packed and impenetrable. The tips of all ten fingers had grown bone-spur-like nails that, as they opened and closed, flashed with silver-white light — razor-sharp and terrifying.
Seeing this blood-curdling spectacle, Ancestor Linghu and the white-robed woman were inwardly shaken, but as Nascent Soul cultivators who had survived untold years, they were not about to be cowed so easily. The moment the "Marquis of Nanlong" revealed his form and stood rooted in place, they simultaneously directed their treasures to attack.
The five-colored pillar of light flashed, instantly engulfing the "Marquis of Nanlong."
Ancestor Linghu was overjoyed and seized the opportunity — the massive white ring immediately descended upon him.
The Demonic Soul's front head was expressionless, resembling a corpse, but the rear head split into a wide grin, a hint of mockery curling at the corner of its mouth.
Seeing the great ring flash and suddenly materialize overhead, plummeting straight down, he — encased within the five-colored pillar — lightly waved all four arms, and with a flash of purple light across his four demon hands, caught the massive ring firmly in his grasp. Not a trace of sluggishness.
Ancestor Linghu was startled, but he immediately intensified his hand seals. The ring blazed with radiance, trembling violently as it struggled to break free, but the four great hands gripped it like iron casts — utterly immovable.
The rear head of the Demonic Soul let out a sinister laugh, then abruptly opened its mouth and spat out a blob of liquid black as ink, striking the ring squarely.
The ancient treasure, once shimmering with spiritual light, let out a mournful wail upon contact with the black liquid, its glow extinguishing entirely. At the same time, it turned pitch-black, flickering with an eerie dark luminescence.
"My Mingyang Ring?!" Ancestor Linghu cried out in shock. The instant the ring changed color, his spiritual connection to the ancient treasure was severed completely, and his face drained of all color.
This Demonic Soul actually possessed the means to corrupt an ancient treasure and seize it for its own use — utterly inconceivable.
At this moment, three of the Demonic Soul's four hands released the ring, leaving only one gripping it, waving it gently. An overlapping cascade of ring-phantoms bloomed forth. Both heads wore satisfied expressions.
"Not bad, not bad! I was just worrying that I had too few usable treasures at hand. This one will serve." The front head of the Demonic Soul spoke in human words. At the same time, the other three arms swept across its body, and with another flash of light, two more items materialized — a black flag and a small sword that also flickered with dark radiance. The final hand remained empty.
"Heh heh! Though I can only demonic-corrupt a few of your cultivator treasures at most, these few alone will be enough to handle things for a while." The Demonic Soul let out a cold laugh.
As for Han Li, he had been distracted earlier while setting up the formation, which caused his golden arcs and fireballs to slow and fall far behind. As for the swarm of Gold Devouring Beetles — they had been keeping pace well enough, but the moment they saw the Demonic Soul reveal its two-headed, four-armed form, they shrank back in apparent fear, only circling restlessly in place.
Han Li's heart clenched. Through their spiritual connection, he could feel the beetles' instinctive terror, and a wave of alarm and doubt surged through him.
What unsettled him even more was that witnessing this demon's two-headed, four-armed art immediately reminded him of the illustrations in the True Records of the Brahma Saint and the three-headed, six-armed demon statue enshrined in Perfected Cang Kun's cave dwelling. He wondered what connection existed among these three.
As for the flag in the Demonic Soul's hand — it was none other than the Wind Flag ancient treasure that the old man surnamed Lu had used to command violent gales. The small sword also looked remarkably familiar — after a moment's thought, he recalled it was one of the ancient treasures found among the remains of a long-dead cultivator. He had not expected both had been corrupted and turned to use.
But regardless of what connections truly existed, now was certainly not the time to seek answers. He had to enrage this demon and lure it into the Great Metal Sword Formation.