Chapter 371: Chapter 371

371: Chapter 359: A Whale Rises in the River of Forgetfulness 371: Chapter 359: A Whale Rises in the River of Forgetfulness Ying Xiu’s heart stirred, and she immediately summoned the female ghost Hongying, saying, “Give me your apricot blossom.”

Hongying hesitated for a moment but still took the pure white apricot blossom from her collar and handed it to Ying Xiu.

“The poison of the Flower Demon can reach the marrow of the bones.

If you delay too long, I fear for your life.

This flower has been nourished by my Puppet ghosts for three thousand years, its yin energy is most pure.

If you wear it, it will naturally counteract the poison of the Flower Demon within your body.”

Meng Zifei dared not accept such grace.

In his early years of cultivation, he had already wronged her in many ways.

Now, not only did she not make things difficult for him, she unexpectedly put aside previous grievances and generously offered the flower.

This left him deeply anxious and full of guilt.

Ying Xiu stuffed the blossom into his chest without further ado.

“No matter what happened in the past, your cultivation has not come easily.

You should cherish your life.”

“Yes, Meng Zifei has learned his lesson,” said Meng Zifei with a gentle look in his eyes and a touched smile.

At Little River of Oblivion, the river monument had already crumbled.

Tiny snowflakes drifted down from the sky.

Countless pristine white flowers sprouted from the black soil, and the bodies of the four Puppet cultivators lay amidst the sea of flowers.

When the wind touched them, their bodies quickly disintegrated into pools of blood-sand without any bones remaining.

Within the blood-sand, countless tiny insect corpses flowed out, utterly lifeless.

Mou Chen leaned against the broken monument, his expression gloomy.

For some reason, half of his body looked as if it had been gnawed upon by a monstrous beast.

His arms were maimed, and within his ribcage, his internal organs were faintly visible, writhing.

“Hehehe…” A laugh, cold and cruel like that of a vulture, came from his mouth.

“Truly worthy of Little Kunlun, even without any cultivation, you’ve managed to heavily injure me to this extent.

Difficult to kill, indeed.”

His face was deathly pale.

After sighing, he struggled to raise his arm, and in an instant, countless pristine white flowers scattered gleaming dots of light that surged upward and converged into his wounds.

Upon closer inspection, those lights were not merely light, but countless poisonous insects resembling flaming sand, and those seas of flowers were the nests and eggs of these insects.

The destructive Spiritual Power attached to his wounds was quickly consumed by these insects.

Mou Chen furrowed his brows and coughed up blood, forcefully clasping at the earth with his remaining right hand.

A massive Blood Beast burst from the sea of flowers and the ground, reflecting the eight blood-red eyes, all of which mirrored Mou Chen’s figure.

The chest of the Blood Beast was wide open, with a giant Flower Demon’s lotus crown embedded within it.

The center of the lotus crown consisted of countless densely packed, slender tendrils, each one fine and long, continuously secreting thick red liquid that diffused a strong, fresh, sweet scent into the air.

Yet within that rich sweetness was a hint of a faint yet unmistakable rotting stench.

Dripping with crimson mucus, the tendrils cascaded down towards Mou Chen, their slender and long bodies like the tendrils of a demon, tightly entwining Mou Chen.

Several especially fresh red tendrils, with hints of green on their surface, deeply penetrated his wounds and viscera, hoisting Mou Chen’s body high.

Mou Chen grunted, as if in great pain, his forehead covered with cold sweat, but in his eyes flashed an insane, sinister light, and his mouth twisted into a grotesque smile.

In the dark night, he seemed like a terrifying Demon.

The massive lotus bloomed with a crazed, bloodthirsty posture in the belly of the Blood Beast.

Within the pitch-black heart of the lotus, sharp flesh buds were seen releasing evil.

Mou Chen was dragged by a great force into the depths of the lotus, and from within the belly of the Blood Beast, a crunching, unnerving sound emerged.

Soon, all fell silent.

The giant Blood Beast lay by the riverbank, as if deep in slumber.

Time was lost to silence.

Suddenly, a bulging membrane rose from the back of the Blood Beast, the dome struggling and writhing, before a soft popping sound was heard.

A pale, slender arm, devilish in appearance, tore through the bright red membrane, its pale flesh streaked with the vibrant red muscles of the Blood Beast, creating a particularly brutal and bloody image.

That hand abruptly bent to grasp the body of the Blood Beast, thrashing violently, and the slumbering Blood Beast seemed to endure immense pain, letting out a piercing shriek.

But the owner of the hand showed no sign of sympathy as their pointed, cyanotic nails ruthlessly tore through the Blood Beast’s muscles.

A man of imposing stature emerged from the Blood Beast’s wound.

The blood-colored tendrils spread over the earth seemed lifeless, wilted, while the Blood Beast’s eight eyes were filled with an exhausted weariness.

The man stepped barefoot into the bloody mire, his deep-set eyes reflecting the dim moonlight rippling off the river’s surface, casting his handsome yet evil face in half-light and half-shadow.

He was a member of the Demon Clan.

Yet, his appearance was almost indistinguishable from that of a human.

He lacked the horns typical of the Demon Clan, and his pupils were black, much like human eyes.

Aside from his especially pale complexion and towering stature, his appearance truly bore no signs of a Demon.

Demons who lack the physical characteristics of the Demon Clan are usually considered weak, degenerate failures.

But he was different.

Among the demons, he had a title.

Demon Prison, Xing Wu.

Born from the great prison of the Demon World, he was a Witch Spirit possessing the strength of the Demon Clan, the characteristics of a Witch Spirit, and the laws of the Demon Prison.

An ancient existence embodying the trinity.

The Blood Beast at his feet was one of the three thousand forms of the Demon Prison.

Though he was brought to the brink of death by the Hundred Nights Curse of Little Kunlun, as long as the Demon Prison endures, he could not die.

Arriving at the banks of the Little River of Oblivion, Xing Wu gazed at the vast, serene blue river, with waves and whale calls surging across its surface.

The water dragged a faint, long trail of blood.

At the end of this trail lay a giant blue whale, carrying a small figure on its back, swimming towards the other shore.

The girl, pale-faced, lay atop the whale’s back, with countless Yin spirits and resentful spirits of the river daring not to approach.

Her black dress unfolded elegantly, like a cascading waterfall of beautiful, long hair, soft and draped over one shoulder, the black threads soaked with water, trailing into the River of Oblivion as the whale surged with the waves.

The River of Oblivion pressed the moonlight into dreams, as the whale cried out mournfully, as if singing a dirge.

She seemed like a delicate doll, her face showing faint traces of pain.

Her lashes, heavy with water droplets, curved alluringly.

Her frail shoulders trembled slightly, and a long, cruel wound ruthlessly cut across most of her back, her black dress torn, revealing a glimpse of skin as white and delicate as jade.

Blood continuously flowed from that snowy flesh, dampening the black dress.

Suddenly, the sound of the water became more urgent.

The large red figure lying beside her was about to slip off the whale’s body.

A sudden, sharp pain shot through her fingertips; she had been bitten by something.

The girl, known as Little Mountain Lord, lifted her pale face, bit her lip, and looked up with innocent eyes that bore a hint of unbearable pain and pity.

She weakly raised her arm, her fingertips being tightly clenched by the head of a beauty with cascading black hair.

“I saved you two, and now that I am seriously wounded, you not only refuse to devote yourselves in gratitude but also bite me in return.

Isn’t that rather unbecoming of the noble style expected of a Demon Lord?” Little Mountain Lord’s clear eyes widened as she tried to look fierce.