Chapter 421: Chapter 421

421: Chapter 408: Fire Devastation 421: Chapter 408: Fire Devastation Dragging his heavy and weary body, having exhausted all the trump cards he could use, he lowered his head to look at his weak, bloodstained hands, the damaged fingers spasming slightly due to excessive debility.

Then he clenched a fist and raised it.

The youth’s eyes still shone clear, and he said, “Come on.”

As if responding to the youth’s undying fighting spirit, the long spear piercing through the dragon scale on his abdomen slightly trembled.

Baili An widened his eyes, surprised, and tilted his head.

Thus, under his astonished gaze, a force pushed out the spearhead of that long spear.

The serpent roared furiously, its anger boundless.

Baili An watched intently as the moment the broken scale burst apart, it was a bright sword blade that ruptured a wheel of blood—its sound clashing with the spear, then sending it flying.

The blade sliced through inch by inch, the dazzling sword body reflecting the lights and shadows of this world.

Cold dragon blood sprayed out, instantly turning into golden dragon flames, burning amidst the tempestuous storm.

Within the brilliant dragon light, a blood-soaked girl wielding a sword used up her last bit of strength to break free from the sword wound.

Through the distant wind, rain, and flames, she struggled to keep her eyes open to a slit.

The burning dragon blood, the ferocious snowstorm, the roaring waves; undoubtedly, all these intense scenes were captivating.

Yet her vision had already been seized by weakness.

Nevertheless, she clearly saw the small corpse demon behind the dragon blood, storm, and waves.

The exhausted girl and the weary boy finally met again amidst the stormy sea.

In the moment when all things of heaven and earth vanished around her, Fang Geyu didn’t need to look or think to know that she had fallen into the belly of the dragon.

For when she could no longer see this mortal world, it was like being in the Karma Fire Hell itself.

For billions of years, there have been countless ancient legends about the Dragon Clan in this world.

The dragon, capable of obscurity and clarity, of subtlety and enormity, ascends to Heaven in the vernal equinox and dives into the Abyss in the autumnal equinox, capable of invoking wind and rain.

It can transform into constellation creatures, with frost spanning thousands of miles; a True Dragon’s fury can cause the sun and moon to dissolve, bringing an end to Heaven and Earth.

The Holy Spirit dragon, symbolizing frost and heavy rain, breathes in its lungs like fierce solar flame; any food it consumes is reduced to ashes, its flesh and soul withered, akin to the Karma Fire Hell, searing and scorching.

The dragon, a Holy Spirit that lives in myth, though tales of the Dragon Clan that can call the wind and summon the rain are widespread, no one has ever witnessed the legendary colors inside the sacred giant dragon’s belly.

Only Fang Geyu, truly being in the dragon’s belly, knew the desperate life and death struggle behind those widely spread stories.

Ning Feiyan once told Baili An that since the serpent was so interested in her as food, it surely wouldn’t digest her immediately.

But with dragon lungs like magma and fierce fire, once inside the dragon’s belly, whether she would be devoured was not up to her.

Fang Geyu clearly knew that the serpent was not truly interested in her.

And she had neither the mystery nor the power that Ning Feiyan imagined.

Her Realm Cultivation was indeed only at the opening realm, her physical body had not transcended mortality, her Taoist Technique was not divine.

In the moment she fell into the dragon’s mouth, she truly saw the fiery blaze surging from deep within the dragon’s belly engulf her.

There wasn’t even time for fear.

Clothes, flesh, bones—obliterated in the blink of an eye.

All things lost, she at their center.

It was then that Fang Geyu realized, death was not to be feared.

What truly was fearful was experiencing a taste of death, then belatedly, like an unstoppable tide, being engulfed in loneliness and fear.

In the relentless fierce fire, threads excellently protected her heart, like cool silken threads moistening her bones intricately wrapping that tiny heart amid the endless lung flame.

As an immortal creature from Kunlun Mountain, threads possessed magical healing and resurrection abilities.

Her fleshly body began to grow in the brutal and merciless fire without feeling pain as her consciousness slowly converged, threads emitting the gentlest yet most ruthless cold power in the world, gradually reassembling her body piece by piece.

In Fang Geyu’s entire world, apart from dragon lungs exhaling fire and Astral Wind condensing frost, there was nothing else.

Time in the world of the dragon’s belly is not limited by the laws of heaven and earth; here, time is instantly eternal.

The fire does not extinguish, the frost does not fade.

Fang Geyu didn’t know how many cycles her shriveled eyes had been open for, her battered and crumbling consciousness being retrieved countless times, madly eroded.

Lost in confusion, in excruciating pain.

Watching her body burn and regenerate, then burn again.

The process was painful and long; Fang Geyu didn’t know where she would ultimately fall, nor when the ordeal of dragon fire burning her body and frost splitting her bones would end.

Heart threads tirelessly released a power warm yet fearsome.

In the moment when her consciousness occasionally cleared, Fang Geyu only felt her body plummet, sinking into a sea of magma, the boiling magma seeping into her every pore, internal organs being scorched by such fiery magma, feeling like strolling through the Eighteen Layers of Hell.

Hell has a beginning and an end, the sea of fire is limitless, the road beyond unseen.

When her body regrouped again, Fang Geyu slowly lifted her burning palm in the sea of fire, her damaged fingertips touching the warmth at her heart, her throat letting out a faint, mocking chuckle.

Suddenly, the sea of fire was gently parted by a strange force, invisible waves laying like the foundation of a carrier beneath Fang Geyu’s feet, her delicate and beautiful legs long since burned in the sea of fire, she knelt within the waves.

Slowly opening those pain-stricken, somewhat disperse eyes, she stared at the Ten Directions Sword, unknowing when it had been unsheathed.

The blue gemstone on the hilt emitted a chilly luster amidst the sea of fire, covered in countless cracks, intermittently ejecting shards of cold remnants.

Those fragments reflected the harrowing appearance of the girl amidst the sea of fire and waves in countless shattered images.

Although the Sword Qi parted the sea of fire, it couldn’t resist the hot breathing wind that choked her, accompanied by her uncontrollable choking, scalding blood sprayed from her lips and teeth, her throat pulling with a tearing agony.

Above her head, suddenly, a faint white light appeared.

This white light achieved a second hue amidst the Red Flame Sea, albeit subtle, but instantly occupied Fang Geyu’s vision.

A cold, pale hand broke through the light and grabbed the Ten Directions Sword that had accompanied her for many years.

The bursting floating crystal fragments along with the hand’s movement all returned to the gem on the sword.

The cracks, like merging ice, slowly disappeared.

In an endless world of solitude, in front of Fang Geyu’s eyes, a gentle, subtle light quietly shone through, a beautiful woman in snow attire holding the sword floated.

Her aura was like light smoke, wrapping around Fang Geyu even more gently than the threads.