The golden dragon tore great bites from Zhang Mingyang's body. Its keen teeth chewed, and thick azure light spilled out from its mouth, rising toward the heavens. It dyed the whole firmament a pale azure. This portent was too astonishing, as though proclaiming to the world the fall of a Spirit-Transformation cultivator, returned once more to the space between heaven and earth. In an instant the winds and clouds shifted again, turning into a fine, drizzling rain that soaked the ravaged, wound-covered earth.

Chen Zhong reached out to touch the azure-glowing raindrops, and the old scars on his palm were swiftly smoothed away. Zhang Mingyang's fall had plainly shaken him beyond measure, and for a long while he couldn't gather his wits.

Aqing, by contrast, stared hard at the sky, where the savage golden dragon reared its head and stretched its claws, a ring of brambles still looped about its neck — the very picture of terrifying menace. His heart abruptly hung suspended.

Grandmaster Shen might be helping the golden-body Senior, but that Senior plainly wasn't of any gentle temperament. Even locked in a life-and-death struggle with the White-Feather Demon Emperor, seeing Xuanguang Cave's man sell him out — even one against two — it had struck to kill without the slightest hesitation. The golden dragon it loosed was more savage still. Best it not fly into a rage and wound Grandmaster Shen by mistake.

All at once, Aqing blinked. He saw that sturdy golden dragon slowly open its mouth and spit out a tattered robe, and then a long saber wreathed in black mist emerged from within its maw. Holding the ink-black saber in its dragon's mouth, it lowered its head and offered it to the young man. Having just been savagely tearing at Zhang Mingyang a moment ago, it now seemed quiet and gentle.

Shen Yi reached out to take the long saber and slid it back into the sheath at his waist. In passing he touched the brambles at the dragon's neck, injected aura, turned that treasure back into the shape of a hand-string, and stowed it…