Dragon Canon

In the blink of an eye, the evening glow had spread across the sky above the realm of Qingming, dyeing most of the heavens blood-red. Yet this crimson hue was different from the previous blood curses; it looked exceptionally clear and bright.

No matter how magnificent the scene might be, Wei Yuan still sensed the scent of danger!

He immediately sent a mental message. The cultivators standing by at over a dozen array nodes received their orders and activated the array at once. At the same time, several old bells within the domain rang out, their tolls echoing far and wide. Nearly a hundred cultivators, who had been busy with their respective tasks, immediately dropped what they were doing upon hearing the bells and rushed at full speed toward their assigned array nodes.

Once in position, they sat cross-legged on the floor. As the already-activating array began to draw upon their Dao energy, a vast, faintly visible barrier of light appeared, enveloping everything within three thousand zhang of the central peak.

Alarm bells also rang out in the five newly established cities. All mortals immediately dropped whatever they were holding and fled toward their cities’ respective administrative centers. The very lesson they had learned upon entering the realm was how to protect themselves from a Great Warlock’s blood curse. They knew that as soon as they heard the bells, they must run at full speed toward the administrative center. If they could escape into the protective array’s range before the blood curse descended, then their lives would be spared.

Yong’an City had long since established defenses against Blood Warlocks. The other five cities were situated further out on the periphery, so their very first task after their locations were determined was to set up defensive arrays. Only then did they begin building houses and cultivating the land. Wei Yuan had also assigned at least ten Dao Foundation stage cultivators to each city to ensure that the great arrays could be activated at critical moments.

Moments later, seven light barriers of varying sizes appeared within the realm, each with a distinct hue.

The redness in the sky grew deeper and richer, yet it was nothing like a blood-red cloud. On the contrary, it was clear and translucent, as if the sky itself was naturally red.

Soon, wisps of red mist began to drift down from the sky. The light screens of all defensive arrays flashed simultaneously as they began to repel the patches of red mists. Inside Qingming[1], the pool of blue water began to recede slowly.

Eroded by the red mist, the pure qi and vitality accumulated within the entire domain began to deplete at an extraordinarily rapid pace!

Wei Yuan was taken aback; at this rate the domain’s reserves would be exhausted in less than an hour. The power of this blood curse was far greater than in any previous instance.

In a moment of desperation, Wei Yuan directly injected a wisp of blue qi into Qingming. Sure enough, the rate at which the realm’s sustaining energy was being consumed slowed considerably. When he injected another wisp of blue qi, the rate of consumption was halved outright. Seeing that the method was effective, Wei Yuan proceeded to inject a dozen or so wisps of blue qi into the realm stone in one go; not stopping until there was enough to sustain the realm for twelve hours.

The fortune itself was slowly being consumed; it took about a quarter of an hour from the moment it was infused until it was completely depleted. Wei Yuan made a rough calculation and deduced that, assuming the intensity did not change, sustaining the barrier for just two hours would consume about ninety wisps of blue fortune.

Wei Yuan checked out the eight hundred or so blue qi inside his sea of consciousness and steeled his resolve. If he had to use them all, then so be it. He could always earn more—but only if his people survived this battle.

The blood curse appeared calm and unassuming, but its power was so terrifying that, despite all the energies the realm had accumulated so far, it wouldn’t have lasted even an hour if not for his fortune. How many humans had the Shamans sacrificed this time? Three thousand? Five Thousand? Maybe even ten thousand?

Wei Yuan stepped out of the room and looked up at the sky. His vision suddenly expanded rapidly,allowing him to see as far as a hundred li away!

The sky was not something one could gaze upon at will. Normally, when Wei Yuan stood on the ground and looked out in all directions, he could see as far as a hundred li. But if he was standing in the sky, then he could see no further than twenty li, even without any clouds to obstruct his view. Everything beyond twenty li was a blur.

If one wished to see farther, they would need to fly higher. But the higher one ascended, the more severe the interference and suppression on one’s perception became—and not in a linear fashion. When looking upward, even an Avatar could only see fifty li, while a True Lord could only see a hundred li.

But at this moment, a special passage seemed to have opened up in the sky, allowing Wei Yuan’s gaze to instantly cross a hundred li and behold a pair of immense, ruby-like eyes looking down from above!

The instant he saw those eyes, a thunderous boom echoed in Wei Yuan’s mind, as if something had exploded. Then, darkness engulfed his vision, and he instantly lost consciousness.

......

After what seemed like an eternity, Wei Yuan faintly heard a voice calling out.

He tried to listen more closely, but the voice remained elusive. He couldn’t make out a single word. He simply sensed instinctively that it was calling out to him.

A moment later, Wei Yuan’s mind cleared slightly, and his thoughts began to stir. He instinctively sensed that something was wrong with him. Everything in front of him was pitch black, and he couldn’t see a thing.

At the moment, Wei Yuan felt as if he was submerged in the deep sea, surrounded by utter darkness. He instinctively sensed the surface above and began to swim upward.

After an unknown amount of time, Wei Yuan’s consciousness suddenly broke through the surface of the water. Only then did he fully regain his senses and slowly open his eyes.

What met his eyes was a dark red hue, a color that seemed to swirl and drift everywhere like spreading blood.

“Husband, are you awake?”

The sudden voice startled Wei Yuan awake. He looked toward the source of the sound, but felt as if his body was rusted. His movements were laborious and heavy, and even the simply act of turning his head was an extraordinary struggle.

Fortunately, his vision chose this moment to clear up slightly, revealing the canopy of a large bed. The bed was exquisitely crafted, with intricate patterns carved into the canopy, the four posts, and the back wall. However, Wei Yuan’s vision was still blurry, and he couldn’t quite make out the details of the carvings.

Once more, Wei Yuan struggled to turn his head. The room was a blur, but he could vaguely make out a thick red candle burning on the table. On the other side of the room was a floor-standing candle holder holding several red candles. All the candles were lit, but their flames were a deep red that cast a reddish hue over everything in the room.

A figure sat at the foot of the bed, veiled and clad in a deep red gown—a newly wed bride.

Outside the window, someone seemed to be playing a flute, its melancholic, wailing notes seemingly telling a story.

Red was everywhere in the room. It was only now Wei Yuan realized that the quilt covering his body was red, and so were the pillows and bedsheets. This, it seemed, was the legendary bridal chamber.

It was at this moment the sound of an erhu[2] drifted in through the window, occasionally punctuated by a few notes of guzheng[3]. They seemed out of place.

Wei Yuan felt very cold, like it was the dead of winter outside and the fire in the room had gone out. The quilt was cold and damp, offering not a hint of warmth.

“Husband, it’s getting late. We should rest.”

The voice was beautiful and gentle. There was also something indescribable about it.

At that moment, Wei Yuan felt as though a veil had been drawn over his primordial spirit; he had this persistent sensation that there were many things he couldn’t recall. Yet the voice possessed an inexplicable magic that made him feel as though he had known her for a very long time—as though today was meant to be their wedding night.

Wei Yuan regained a bit more strength. He was now able to support his body. As he slowly sat up, his vision cleared a little more.

The moment he left the bed, the unusual cold in the room became even more biting. Everything he saw seemed devoid of warmth, including the bride in her crimson wedding gown. Wei Yuan instinctively shivered.

“You drank too much tonight, husband. Are you still not feeling well?”

“Yes, I can’t hold my liquor....”

The moment the words left his mouth, the voice sounded so unfamiliar that Wei Yuan startled himself.

But the bride didn’t seem to notice anything amiss and urged him again, “It’s getting late. We should rest.”

Wei Yuan moved to the edge of the bed and set his feet on the floor. Only then did he realize he was also dressed in wedding attire. As he stood up, he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye near the bed’s corner. When he turned to look, he saw it was just a spiderweb.

The servants are slacking off again....

Wei Yuan swept the spiderweb away with a flick of his sleeve, unexpectedly stirring up a cloud of white dust. He paid it no mind, though, and walked over to his bride, for she was urging him again.

Wei Yuan placed his hand on her veil. Just then, he heard the sound of an instrument from outside the window again. This time, it was a bamboo flute. Its melody was winding and mournful, as if someone was saying:

“Don’t lift it!”

“If he lifts the veil, he’s finished.”

Wei Yuan felt as though he heard someone speaking, yet he also thought it must be the sound of the flute. He didn’t dwell on it, because he felt it was indeed getting late, and he should rest.

So, he lifted the crimson veil and saw Zhang Sheng’s face.

It was as if a thunderbolt had struck him in the head!

Crack!

A shattering sound echoed in Wei Yuan’s mind, and the world before his eyes suddenly cracked into countless fissures, shattering. The bride in her crimson wedding gown and the bridal chamber covered in dust and cobwebs scattered among the fragments, gradually fading into the distance.

His consciousness plunged back into darkness.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when a voice called out to him again: “Husband, wake up.”

Wei Yuan opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the canopy. This time, his vision was much clearer, and he could make out the relief carvings on the canopy. In the relief, several hideous little ghosts were carrying a blood-soaked, humanoid figure toward a large table. Seated around the table were seven brides dressed in crimson wedding gowns, and the one in the center was holding a bloodstained kitchen knife. Her hands were slender and pale, and the blade of the knife was already notched in several places.

A sudden thought struck Wei Yuan: Why did he feel that his vision was clearer this time? Could it be that he had seen this before?

“Husband, it’s getting late. We should rest.”

Wei Yuan slowly turned his head. The bride was sitting at the foot of the table, her wedding gown a piercing shade of red.

1. The realm stone. It’s a pain trying to differentiate them =.=” ☜

2. The erhu is a Chinese two-stringed bowed musical instrument, more specifically a spike fiddle, that is sometimes known in the Western world as the Chinese violin or a Chinese two-stringed fiddle. ☜

3. The zheng, or guzheng, is a Chinese plucked zither. ☜