The Devil's Old Friend

"What is going on?" Xiao Chen asked. Though he was loath to deal with a devil, there were things he had to know.

"The blood of a god is burning in a mortal body. This is the awakening of divinity—what the secular call a divine inheritance, a descendant receiving a portion of their ancestor's power."

Xiao Chen was surprised, though not as stunned as before. "Is he powerful?"

"No matter how mighty his ancestor was," the devil said, utterly unruffled, "a full restoration of the source divine power is impossible after so many generations. If he can reach the Demigod realm before thirty, that would already be remarkable. But to go further, he must break the shackles of the divine blood within him. Otherwise, his achievements will be frozen for life."

Xiao Chen understood at once. This was exactly what Yizhen and Liu Mu had told him about Demigods—those born as half-gods, descendants of deities who awakened their ancestral bloodline as they aged.

Yet such bloodlines were exceedingly rare. Even within a single family, there might be only one awakening every ten generations, triggered by some external stimulus.

Who was in that hut? What level had he reached? Could it be someone familiar? Xiao Chen was tempted to go see.

"It's merely a revival of source divine power. To become a true Demigod, he'll need at least until thirty. Right now, his strength hasn't increased much. I could kill him as easily as squashing a bug. Or you could," the devil said, his tone light and dismissive, showing the casual arrogance of absolute power.

Xiao Chen strode forward to investigate, but at that moment, the golden light fully converged. A figure burst through the hut's roof and soared into the sky.

"Rand!" Xiao Chen was astonished. It was the golden-haired handsome man, Rand—the one with whom he shared a considerable grudge.

"Xiao Chen!" Rand hovered high in the air, looking down. Surprise registered on his face as well; he had not expected to encounter Xiao Chen here. Without another word, a sheet of golden light poured down like water.

"Slay the God!" Xiao Chen cried softly. Radiant beams shot from his hands, and blades and swords surged upward, shattering the golden waves. Then they reversed course and struck back at Rand.

Rand shot higher, then fled toward the distance. "We'll fight another time," he called back. There was no resentment or anger in his voice. His state of mind seemed calmer, as if he had forgotten the humiliation of his earlier defeat.

"I'll be waiting," Xiao Chen replied. It was unexpected that he now had an enemy who might become a Demigod. But on second thought, it made sense—Yan Qingcheng would not have allied with Rand if he had no potential. She must have seen his future as a Demigod.

But so what if he became a Demigod? Xiao Chen believed that with his own effort, a divine bloodline was no insurmountable obstacle. One of his loose techniques was called "Slay the God." What reason had he to fear a half-god? As long as he cultivated to the highest level, nothing was truly fearsome.

A day later, Xiao Chen arrived at Treefolk Valley, but was disappointed to find that the green-haired youth had already left. The Treefolk were gone as well. Naturally, he could not find Zhao Lin'er, who had fled back to the outer reaches of Dragon Island.

"Are you searching for that old treant? Hoping to make him fight me?" The devil, true to his reputation, appeared soundlessly in the valley. "He is not weak, I admit. But even after shedding his body to become human, he is no match for me. I can tell you plainly—if he discovers the Little Sacred Tree, he will surely try to seize it. As a treant, he needs it even more than I do. He might just tear off all pretense and strike without hesitation."

Xiao Chen did not answer. He walked aimlessly at the island's edge, but he was meticulously searching for the treants.

"You wouldn't actually want to lure him out, would you? Let us fight over the tree?" The devil laughed. "If that's the case, I'd be happy to watch him kill you and take the tree. Then it wouldn't involve me at all. I'd find another opportunity to seize it—that would count as avenging you. Of course, I'd save that little beast."

Keke was fast asleep. Otherwise, the little beast would have charged at him.

After a few days of searching the island's periphery, Xiao Chen found nothing. Several times he approached the dark swamp, and several times he retreated. That was the Death Swamp where the Wheel King and the other two skeletons had once lived.

Xiao Chen's memory of the Undying King—that ten-meter-tall corpse with a pair of enormous rotting wings—was all too vivid. He had not seen it clearly that day, but the dreadful scene of demonic clouds blotting out the moon was enough to prove its power. He ranked it as a threat on the same level as the brutal dragons.

Could he borrow its strength? He had no confidence at all. He might end up unleashing a killing demon as terrible as the devil himself.

Starlit night. Xiao Chen finally entered the Death Swamp again. There was no more time to waste. The devil had grown obviously impatient. If he could not find a way to eliminate him, his own life was in danger.

These days, Keke, the little sleepyhead, had been behaving like a good baby, sleeping soundly for most of the time. Xiao Chen knew it was probably seriously cultivating in its strange dreamlike method.

Corpse miasma drifted like black ribbons, writhing in the stagnant air. The gloomy swamp was deathly still; no bird or beast dared approach.

The devil watched Xiao Chen with a knowing, almost amused expression, following unhurriedly behind him. For the past two days, he had stayed practically at Xiao Chen's side, no longer shadowing him from afar.

After a moment of hesitation, Xiao Chen held his breath and strode into the swamp. A thin film of light emerged to shield him and the sleeping Keke. He advanced through the muddy, dark ground, passing piles of bleached bones. Occasional pale moonlight seeped through the darkness.

Finally, he reached the central zone. Staring at the great mound of bones ahead, his heart crawled with unease. A baleful aura—as evil as black flames dancing among the skeletal heap—pierced straight into his soul. He knew that the ten-meter Undying King lay buried in the mud beneath those bones.

He glanced back at the devil. Xiao Chen felt the urge to retreat, because this fiend clearly knew about this place and yet showed not a trace of fear. That said enough.

"Heh heh..." The devil tried to make his laugh sound gentle, but in the dead silence of the midnight swamp, it was utterly sinister. "I suggest you step back. If the Undying King emerges, the deathly corpse aura might harm you. It's been a while since I last greeted this old friend. I'll catch up with him today."

Xiao Chen was speechless. The two fiends were friends. He retreated in silence, his heart full of bitter realization. On this Dragon Island, his hope of finding someone to counter the devil had apparently been dashed.

"Old friend, I've come to see you." The devil waved a hand, and the entire pile of bones floated up, drifting to another area. Black nether mist erupted violently from below, churning like blazing black flames.

A hair-raising ghostly shriek came from underground. Then demonic clouds covered the moon. Endless black mist surged into the sky, completely blocking the moonlight that had been filtering through the leaves of the towering ancient trees.

A colossal creature emerged from the mire. Its ten-meter-tall body exuded a ferocious, murderous aura. Though some distance away and veiled by roiling black mist, Xiao Chen could still see the Undying King's rotting corpse and its pair of enormous decayed wings. Yin energy rolled, and terrifying dark power surged through the Death Swamp. The shrill howl alone made cold shivers run down one's spine.

Its face was impossible to make out, its mood impossible to guess. But its oppressive pressure and its power were unmistakably real. This Undying King might indeed be strong enough to defeat the devil. But would they fight?

Had it once been an angel in life? Xiao Chen wondered. Otherwise, why would it have a pair of wings? But its size was too immense. Perhaps before Dragon Island was sealed, fierce battles had raged here, and the Undying King had fallen in that era.

Two beams of icy light, like sharp swords, shot toward Xiao Chen. The Undying King seemed to mean him harm.

"Old brother, relax. Don't bother with a junior. It was I who wanted to see you." The devil stood calmly before the Undying King.

The cold gaze shifted away. The Undying King and the devil walked farther into the distance. They truly seemed to be old acquaintances. The last spark of hope in Xiao Chen's heart was extinguished.

But only moments later, violent crashing sounds erupted from deep in the swamp—the splintering of trees. Endless dark mist roiled, and powerful energy fluctuations surged.

The Undying King and the devil were fighting!

Xiao Chen fled in the first instant. He moved like the wind, like lightning, and within moments had escaped the Death Swamp entirely.

Those two death-bound brothers were actually fighting each other! Could there be any better news? Xiao Chen climbed a high point, leaping into the crown of a towering tree dozens of meters tall, and gazed back at the swamp.

Endless dark mist churned, completely flooding the battlefield. He could not see a thing, but the violent energy fluctuations told him how fierce the battle was.

As the thick deathly mist rolled westward, the original battlefield was exposed. An area over a hundred meters in radius looked as if a meteor had struck it. The ground had sunk who knows how deep, forming a vast, pitch-black pit.

That told him just how ferocious the combat power of the Undying King and the devil was—they hadn't just shattered everything on the surface but had collapsed the entire terrain.

Figures stirred in the distance. There were still practitioners on the island's perimeter. The fierce battle had drawn their attention, but the moment they sensed the thick death aura, they swiftly retreated. They were clearly cautious.

The violent battle lasted a full quarter-hour before ceasing. Xiao Chen had hoped to see the devil dead.

But once again, he guessed wrong. When all the dark mist dispersed, a giant pit over three hundred meters in circumference lay revealed. The Undying King and the devil were sitting at the edge, conversing.

He couldn't see clearly from the distance, but he could feel the atmosphere. They were not mortal enemies. Occasional eerie laughter drifted over—the two fiends were enjoying their talk.

What was happening?

Xiao Chen was utterly baffled. Moments ago, they had been trying to kill each other. Now they were chatting amiably. The change was too abrupt.

"Haha... When I am freed, I will surely not forget you, old brother. We are the closest of friends!" The devil's laughter boomed across the swamp.

Then, demonic clouds surged, and the Undying King returned to the deep mud beneath its hidden lair. Yin wind stirred, green leaves spiraled down. The devil appeared on the crest of the great tree, not far from Xiao Chen. He sat on a branch and said, "Have you decided? I really have run out of patience. If you can make the little beast willingly lend me the Sacred Tree for a year, I will repay you handsomely in the future."

Xiao Chen remained silent. If he gave the Sacred Tree to the devil, would he ever get it back? It seemed Keke's growth could not proceed without that tree. Did he have to compromise to stay alive?

"On Dragon Island, aside from the dragon race and those primordial savage beasts, no one can threaten me. But the dragons will never act against me. You saw it yourself—the Undying King and I are old friends. Every time I am reborn through metamorphosis, I come to spar with him. He is my most powerful ally."

"Who is he? What is his background?"

Hearing this, the devil lifted his head to gaze at the bright moon in the sky. A long, faint sigh escaped him. "I don't even know who I am. How would I know who he is? All I know is that I escaped from the City of the Dead, and he is a corpse that has rotted for endless ages..." His tone carried a hint of melancholy, as if he were not a fiend at all, but a sorrowful young man.