"……"

Nie Jun blinked, then showed himself and shot without hesitation into the hall.

When he came down inside that dim, silent hall—

He saw something that left him dumbfounded.

Beneath the towering statue of the founding ancestor, the black-backed old dog stood with its whole body taut, one forepaw raised, watching warily as the silver-armoured figure came toward it.

Shen Yi strolled unhurriedly up in front of it.

Then crouched slowly down, put out a hand of his own, and crooked one finger.

"Chk, chk."

The crisp little sound carried through the hall.

Nie Jun went entirely blank.

The old dog's pupils blew wide, and its whole body froze where it stood.

In its sight, the silver-armoured young man had become a figure in a white Nanyang robe, the face indistinct and holding a certain kindness, bending down and reaching a hand toward it.

"Laifu. Come here."

That was the forgiveness it had waited tens of thousands of years for.

And in an instant the killing intent in the old dog's eyes was all but spilling out of them. "Roar!"

The thing was pure fantasy.

Because there was no possible way the Sect Master had known the name of a spirit-hound that guarded the back kitchen.

It raised a forepaw and smashed it down!

But for that one instant of blankness, Shen Yi had already caught the paw, and the body beneath the silver armour loosed unimaginable strength.

With one violent swing—

Zhang Laifu's whole body sailed through the air, crashed down outside the hall, rolled dozens of times over the stone steps, and came into the range of the Iron Strokes and Silver Hooks grand formation.

Slay! Trap! Restrict!

The three components fused into one complete grand formation, and sealed the old dog inside it.

It got blankly to its feet.

Even granting that it had lost its wits for a moment.

That terrible force just now was in no way the strength a Spirit-Transformation cultivator should have.

The next moment.

Zhang Laifu watched Shen Yi walk slowly out of the hall, the silver armour gleaming, the snow-white…