Chapter 1038: Ying’s Transformation

Chapter 1038: Chapter 1038: Ying's Transformation

To the north of the Four Great Continents, within the region of Lujiang.

Lujiang was the place where the Sage Confucius rose to fame, and it was the most prosperous center of Confucianism in the world. Recently, all the Confucian academies in Lujiang had received orders: students were to diligently study the Analects within the academies and were not to slack off. As a result, for the past three days, the air in Lujiang had been filled with the endless sound of reciting texts, which had not ceased even for a moment.

It was as if every word spoken out loud siphoned off a bit of the faith and devotion toward Confucius, gradually being absorbed into the skies above Lujiang. The entire region's sky was a vast expanse of white, and at the center of Lujiang, an enormous statue of Confucius was shrouded in endless white light. Even at night, the glow did not diminish.

The statue of Confucius seemed capable of absorbing the white light, continuously drawing in the boundless faith from the region. Beneath the statue was a vast complex of palaces—this was the holy land of Confucianism, the sacred ground where Confucius himself had taught: the Confucian Sacred Palace.

Around the Sacred Palace, many great Confucian scholars sat, endlessly reciting the Analects, channeling the immense faith of Confucianism into the statue of Confucius, which then transmitted it to the distant location where Confucius resided.

The Confucian Sacred Palace was a massive complex of palaces, with a main hall at its heart, aptly named the Confucian Sacred Palace.

While the great scholars outside were fervently reciting the texts, the interior of the palace remained eerily quiet.

Suddenly, someone pushed open the grand doors. It was Kong Sekong, Confucius' great-grandson.

"Who is it?" a voice angrily demanded from within the hall.

"Master-Uncle, it's me, Sekong!" Kong Sekong immediately replied.

He entered the hall, quickly shutting the doors behind him.

Inside the hall, a man was seated cross-legged, dressed in white Confucian robes, exuding an air of otherworldly elegance. If Zhong Shan were present, he would have immediately recognized this man as the last Ancestral Immortal of the Confucian sect.

"Sekong? What are you doing here?" the man in Confucian robes asked, puzzled.

"Great-Grandfather is facing great difficulty, and as his great-grandson, I want to do something to help," Sekong said with a sigh.

"You know?" the man in the Confucian robes asked, frowning.

"Yes, it's no secret. Lujiang is on high alert—who doesn't know? But because I am weak, I can't do much to help Great-Grandfather," Sekong said, his face full of frustration.

"The fact that you have this filial heart is already commendable. Master is currently facing numerous Ancestral Immortals across the Four Great Continents, but it shouldn't take much longer," the man in the Confucian robes said.

"Master-Uncle, I am powerless to help Great-Grandfather, but you are an Ancestral Immortal! You can assist him—your strength would be a great support to him," Sekong said urgently.

"Master has ordered me to guard this place!" the man in the Confucian robes replied, looking conflicted.

"Guard this place? What's there to guard? All the Master-Uncles are outside, who would dare cause trouble here? The Master-Uncles are all diligently reciting the texts, pouring their hearts into it, while you sit here idly—this...!" Sekong's tone was tinged with frustration.

It was clear that he was blaming the man for not helping Confucius. After all, everyone else was reciting the texts to gather faith for Confucius, while this powerful Ancestral Immortal just sat here doing nothing.

"I cannot. My duty is to protect the Sacred Image of Faith. Only by guarding it can Master have a continuous source of faith power," the man in the Confucian robes said, shaking his head.

"The Sacred Image of Faith is absolutely secure—no one can destroy it!" Sekong said confidently.

"Oh?" The man in the Confucian robes seemed to sense something in Sekong's words.

"I've already sought help from the Kong family. They've agreed to assist," Sekong said.

As Ying's roar reverberated across the heavens, his body began to undergo a dramatic transformation. From his back, something began to emerge—no, it wasn't just something. It was a pair of enormous wings. Massive wings sprouted from his back, growing rapidly until they were more than ten times the length of his body.

These wings weren't covered in feathers. Instead, they were layered with what looked like countless dragon scales, their dark, obsidian-like surface exuding an aura of formidable strength. The bones of the wings resembled those of a dragon, immense and imposing, embodying a sense of raw power.

Ying's mouth opened wide as he roared toward the sky. Even from a distance, everyone could clearly see the transformation—his mouth now bore two huge, blood-red fangs, and his eyes had turned completely crimson, devoid of pupils, glowing with an eerie, unsettling light.

He had taken on the form of a powerful, domineering zombie—a terrifying display of undead might. As he roared, the sky above began to swirl with blood-red clouds, which rotated ominously around a central point, creating an oppressive atmosphere. Gradually, these blood clouds were drawn into Ying's mouth as he inhaled them deeply.

Ying's skin darkened slightly, and his arms swelled, becoming more muscular and powerful. His fists, now massive and blackened, clenched tightly, causing small cracks to appear in the surrounding space, as if he were crushing the very fabric of reality.

After the roar subsided, Ying turned his gaze back toward the black hole where the battle raged. With a powerful flap of his enormous dragon-bone wings, he shot back into the heart of the battlefield.

The moment Ying made his appearance, all conversation among the onlookers ceased. The sheer force of his presence during that brief roar had left everyone speechless, the oppressive energy silencing any who had been talking.

The Bull Demon King, standing beside Zhong Shan, had a look of deep shock in his eyes.

Zhong Shan, however, was not as surprised. He had heard of this form before, back in the Small Thousand World when Ying had awakened from his slumber in the same terrifying form.

As Zhong Shan watched the distant battlefield, his pupils suddenly contracted.

The red Ruan Pink Lotus mark on his forehead turned blue—a sign of great danger.

Without hesitation, Zhong Shan activated his Eight Extremes Heavenly Tail, bringing it forth to shield those around him.

Just then, a streak of light shot toward them, colliding violently with the tail of the Zhuxian Sword.

"Boom~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!"

The building beneath Zhong Shan's feet exploded into rubble, and the Bull Demon King was forced to retreat under the immense pressure, quickly fleeing the area.

The streak of light that had collided with the Zhuxian Sword's tail turned out to be a massive golden hand.

Both the Zhuxian Sword and the golden hand were forced back from the collision.

It was Jinpeng! The relentless Golden-Winged Roc had followed them here, still determined to pursue Zhong Shan and the source dragon.

Jinpeng had arrived, immediately noticing Zhong Shan and his group, along with the source dragon. Realizing that Jieyin was no longer with them, Jinpeng was overjoyed.

He struck out with a powerful claw, confident that without Jieyin, no one could stop him.

Even when the sword-shaped tail emerged to block him, Jinpeng wasn't concerned. What could a mere sword do? As long as it wasn't an Ancestral Immortal weapon, no sword could withstand his grip.

But after the collision, Jinpeng realized something was wrong.

"The Zhuxian Sword!" Jinpeng's mind screamed in disbelief. The clash had left neither side victorious.

Jinpeng stared at the massive Eight Extremes Heavenly Tail and then at its purple tail tip, shock written all over his face. "The Zhuxian Sword? How has it turned into a tail?"

To read the manga version, please click the YouTube link https://youtu.be/GnU613H6xm8