He Yuzhu returns in Siheyuan

Chapter 883 Long Jiao Takes Action Personally

This is understandable. The monkey and tiger demons had already calculated everything clearly—the benefits promised by the dragon race were nothing more than a few tattered ancient books and a few bottles of diluted spiritual liquid, utterly insignificant compared to the lives of their clansmen. It wasn't worth fighting to the death with the powerful human race for such petty gains. Therefore, they used the pretext of a "strategic retreat" to passively respond, hoping only to preserve their own lair and mines.

Inside the cave, Long Jiao's fingers, gripping the communication talisman, turned white. The constant stream of defeat messages on the talisman pierced her heart like needles. "Humans have breached the Black Wind Pass defenses," "The Jackal Clan has suffered more than half its casualties," "Green Serpent Valley has been burned down by talisman fire"... She suddenly pushed herself up against the stone wall, her wounds throbbing with pain, but she ignored the pain and rushed straight out of the cave.

Just as they reached the cave entrance, they bumped into the monkey demons leading their people in retreat. Those furry monkeys were still clutching the stolen spirit fruits, showing no signs of defeat. Long Jiao immediately shouted angrily, "What are you doing? The humans have already breached the third line of defense! If they retreat any further, they'll be entering our dragon clan's forbidden territory! Why aren't you ambushing them? If they retreat any further, the entire Misty Forest will fall into their hands!"

The monkey demon's face showed a perfectly measured helplessness as it spread its furry paws and said, "Lady Long Jiao, you truly have no idea of ​​our predicament." It shifted to the side, revealing the horrific scene behind it—a black bear monster clutching its severed arm and groaning, black smoke still rising from the wound from the scorching magic weapon; several flower snake demons, their scales mostly gone, lay on the ground panting, "In these three days, our clan has lost nearly a hundred brothers. Brother Black Bear had his arm broken by that cultivator surnamed Zhang, and Sister Flower Snake was burned to near death by the talisman... We simply couldn't hold on any longer."

As it spoke, its eyes darted around, and its tone became somewhat subservient and obsequious: "It's not that we don't want to fight, it's just that the human race's firepower is too fierce. The leader, Zhang Lei, is holding the 'Breaking Illusion Sword,' which is specifically designed to counter our demonic power. With our meager abilities, going up there would just be suicide."

Long Jiao saw the calculating glint in its eyes, a hint of "forcing you to act," and immediately understood what was going on. These demons wanted to use her as a shield. She took a deep breath, suppressing her anger, the golden dragon markings on her arm faintly glowing: "Alright, I know you're in trouble. This time, I'll personally take action. I'll help you hold the next line of defense, okay?"

Upon hearing this, the monkey demon felt a huge weight lifted from its heart—its goal had finally been achieved. It immediately adopted a respectful demeanor, bowing and scraping repeatedly: "With Lady Long Jiao's words, we feel reassured! Rest assured, we will definitely follow you and charge forward without hesitation!"

Long Jiao ignored it and turned to fly towards the forefront of the defensive line. Golden dragon patterns meandered across her fair arm, carrying suppressed anger and a desperate resolve. She knew that this battle had to be won, otherwise not only would the demon race completely lose confidence, but even her and Long Tian's last refuge would be reduced to ashes.

The dragon god-slayer atop the clouds observed all this, his fingertips lightly tapping the clouds, producing muffled "plop" sounds. His golden eyes narrowed, his gaze unfathomable—good, let this girl test the waters first, to see the true nature of the human race, and let her taste the bitterness of isolation and helplessness. Only when she's driven to the brink of despair will he step in to clean up the mess, making these arrogant dragon descendants truly understand who they can rely on.

A fierce wind whipped up thick, billowing clouds, sweeping across the dragon's prominent horns atop his head like a charging beast. Each golden scale reflected a chilling light through the gaps in the clouds, sometimes disappearing into the thick fabric, sometimes flashing suddenly, as if proclaiming a hidden power. He lowered his gaze to survey the turbulent battle below, and deep within his eyes, a raging storm, more intense than any tempest, was quietly brewing—the suppressed fury and impending eruption of the dragon race's dignity after it had been challenged.

Long Jiao hovered in mid-air, her damaged left wing still trembling slightly, faint bloodstains stained the edges of her feathers, yet she still held her back straight, her golden dragon tail swaying slowly behind her, sweeping away the surging air currents around her. Her abilities had already distinguished her among her clan, having single-handedly repelled several ancient demons, but the aura emanating from Zhang Lei opposite her was far more formidable than she had anticipated—it was a sharpness honed through countless battles, mixed with the murderous aura that had rolled through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, carrying an undeniable sense of oppression, like an invisible net that stagnates the spiritual energy around her.

Zhang Lei's sharp gaze swept over Long Jiao's trembling wings, then glanced at her tense neck, his brows furrowing slightly: "Something's not right. The intelligence clearly stated there were two dragons, one for battle and one for healing. Why are you the only one left now? Where did the other go?" The longsword in his hand hummed, its blade gleaming with a cold light tempered with a hundred years of spiritual energy. The bell on the tassel jingled softly with each flick of his wrist, clearly indicating his vigilance towards the dragons' movements, not daring to let his guard down for a moment.

Upon hearing this, Long Jiao's lips curled into a cold smile, a hint of disdain flashing in her golden vertical pupils. The spiritual light on her dragon horns suddenly brightened: "You? You dare to inquire about my clan's movements? After I kill you, I'll naturally let you know who's left." Before she finished speaking, her figure had already shot out like a golden lightning bolt, her sharp claws accompanied by a shrill whistling sound that tore through the air. The dragon energy gathered at her fingertips transformed into three sharp blades of energy, rushing straight at Zhang Lei's face. Even the surrounding clouds were cleaved open by this force.

Zhang Lei was prepared. He lightly touched the air with his toes, his body gliding backward like a willow catkin. At the same time, he swung his longsword horizontally, drawing a semi-circular shield of light. With a crisp clang, Long Jiao's claws collided with the shield, sparks flying and a deafening roar echoing through the clouds, startling the clouds below into violent turbulence. He used the momentum to spin around, his longsword flashing back, the tip carrying a chilling spiritual energy, aiming straight for Long Jiao's side—where the scales were slightly thinner due to an old wound, an opening he had just spotted.

Long Jiao's pupils contracted, and she forcefully twisted her body, her dragon tail lashing out at the sword like a steel whip. With a clang, the sword was deflected half an inch, but it still managed to slash a bloody gash on her side. Golden dragon blood dripped into the clouds, instantly scattered by the gale. She groaned, pain spreading down her spine. It was an old wound she had sustained when she shielded Hu Longtian from a cultivator's tribulation lightning. Now, being aggravated again, the pain made her vision blur.

Instead of retreating, she used the momentum of her twisting body to flap her wings violently, sending countless golden feathers shooting out like arrows, each coated in scorching dragon flames. Zhang Lei parried with his sword, the feathers striking the blade and bursting into bursts of flame, scorching the cloud of energy surrounding him. Taking advantage of the moment his vision was obscured by the flames, Long Jiao lunged forward, her sharp claws aimed straight for his sword-wielding wrist, her finger strikes fierce and carrying a ruthless, all-consuming force.