Battle of the Dragon-Bird

The thirty-thousand-year-old Wind Wood Dragon stampeded past the area where the five members of the Qing Clan were hiding, not even sparing them a glance.

No, it wasn't that it didn't look—it simply couldn't afford to.

There was only terror in its eyes.

Qing Zhengyue hid behind a tree, his hand gripping his long blade, his gaze locked onto the direction from which the Wind Wood Dragon had come.

He did not move, nor did he allow anyone else to move.

To make a sound at this moment would be equivalent to exposing themselves to the predator currently in pursuit.

Liu Yunlan crouched behind a rock, her right hand clutching a poison-tipped dagger, her left hand already inside her cloth bag, pinching the stoppers of two porcelain vials.

The old woman's breathing was light, almost silent.

Qing Hongyuan crouched in the tree canopy, his Azure Snake Dragon Wing fully retracted and pressed flat against his back.

His gaze pierced through the gaps in the leaves, staring at the direction where the Wind Wood Dragon had vanished, his pupils slightly constricted.

Shen Wanqing hid in the shrubbery, the phantom of her Jade Orchid Martial Soul fully retracted, not daring to release a single ripple of soul power.

Her support soul skills were powerful, but her concealment abilities were equally formidable—a survival skill essential for any support-type soul master.

Qing Mufeng hovered beneath the canopy layer, his Azure Dragon Pupil activated to its full extent, tracking the black shadow that was closing in.

That thing's speed was too fast.

One moment it was hundreds of feet away, the next it was right upon them.

Qing Mufeng finally saw its full appearance clearly.

It was a bird.

An unimaginably massive bird.

Its entire body was pitch black, its feathers like ink, shimmering with a cold, metallic luster under the twilight light.

Its wingspan exceeded ten zhang, and every flight feather was like a black sword, its edges as sharp as a blade.

Its head was covered in black scales, devoid of feathers, resembling the skull of some ancient reptile.

Atop its head sat a curved black bone crest, like a crown, the tip of which glowed with a dark red light.

Its beak was thick and short, with serrated edges like a sharp guillotine.

Its talons were as black as iron, each toe as thick as an adult's arm, the claws at the tips curved like scimitars, capable of tearing through any defense.

Most striking of all were its eyes.

Not gold, not vertical slits, but pupils as black as ink, with a faint, dark red light flowing deep within them.

In those eyes, there was no fear, no hesitation—only a pure, cold, emotionless intent to kill.

In Qing Mufeng's mind, inherited memories surged like a tide.

Mystic Nether Eagle.

A dark-attribute flying soul beast, a top-tier predator of the skies.

Solitary by nature with an intense sense of territory, it would attack any creature that entered its airspace.

It excelled in speed, strength, and the corrosive attacks of the dark attribute.

A Mystic Nether Eagle of over fifty thousand years had almost no natural predators in the skies of the Star Dou Forest.

Fifty thousand years.

A full twenty thousand years older than that Wind Wood Dragon.

Qing Mufeng took a deep breath, suppressing the agitation in his heart.

The Wind Wood Dragon's size was even larger than he had anticipated, and its aura even stronger than he had imagined.

With a cultivation of around thirty-five thousand years, it was already an overlord in the depths of the Hurricane Wood Mountain Range.

Yet at this moment, this overlord was being chased like a stray dog by a fifty-thousand-year-old Mystic Nether Eagle.

This was the crushing weight of a superior.

It was identical to the suppression the Azure Dragon exerted over snake-type soul beasts, though the method differed.

The Azure Dragon's suppression was a crushing of bloodline, originating from deep within the genes, making its opponent tremble to the bone.

The Mystic Nether Eagle's suppression was a crushing of the food chain; it was the king of the sky, and the Wind Wood Dragon was merely its prey.

Both forms of suppression led to the same result.

Qing Mufeng stared at the Mystic Nether Eagle, and the Azure Dragon Martial Soul within him vibrated once more.

It was not fear, but battle intent.

The Azure Dragon was telling him: a thing like this is not worthy of making the Azure Dragon bow its head.

But his reason told him that he could not be impulsive right now.

A fifty-thousand-year-old Mystic Nether Eagle was not something they could afford to provoke at this stage.

The Mystic Nether Eagle's speed was astonishing; in just a few breaths, it had caught up to the Wind Wood Dragon.

It did not rush to attack, but instead circled above the Wind Wood Dragon, the airflow stirred by its black wings pressing the surrounding treetops into a massive vortex.

Leaves flew in disarray and branches snapped, revealing a circular patch of sky.

The Wind Wood Dragon was forced into a corner with nowhere to run.

It halted its steps, turned around, raised its head, and let out an angry roar at the Profound Nether Eagle in the sky.

That roar carried despair, unwillingness, and a final touch of madness.

Since it could not escape, it would fight to the death.

The Profound Nether Eagle dove down.

It did not dive straight, but at a strange, calculated angle.

Its body tilted, left wing pressed down while the right wing lifted, the entire form resembling a black blade slashing diagonally from the sky.

The speed was so fast that even Qing Mufeng's Azure Dragon Pupil could barely track it.

The Wind Wood Dragon opened its mouth, spitting out a cyan wind blade that shot straight for the Profound Nether Eagle's face.

That was its strongest strike, condensing all of its soul power.

The Profound Nether Eagle did not even dodge.

It tilted its head slightly, letting the wind blade graze its cheek and shear off a few black feathers.

As the feathers drifted in the air, the Profound Nether Eagle did not even blink.

Its sharp talons spread wide, aiming directly for the Wind Wood Dragon's neck.

The Wind Wood Dragon whipped its head around violently, meeting the talons with the horns on its head.

A crisp snap echoed.

The dragon horn broke.

The Wind Wood Dragon let out a shrill hiss as blood gushed from the fractured horn.

The Profound Nether Eagle's other talon simultaneously seized its neck, piercing through scales, muscle, and blood vessels.

The Wind Wood Dragon's massive body was lifted by the Profound Nether Eagle, its four limbs dangling off the ground, suspended in mid-air.

The Wind Wood Dragon struggled desperately, its tail lashing wildly and its claws swiping at the air, but the Profound Nether Eagle's talons remained locked like iron pincers around its throat, unmoving.

The Profound Nether Eagle tightened its grip.

The Wind Wood Dragon's struggles gradually weakened, and a gurgling sound emerged from its throat as it bled profusely.

Finally, it went still.

The Profound Nether Eagle released its grip, and the corpse of the Wind Wood Dragon plummeted from the sky, slamming into the ground with a tremor.

The Profound Nether Eagle landed beside the carcass, lowered its head, and used its thick, serrated beak to tear open the Wind Wood Dragon's abdomen, beginning to feed.

The entire process took less than twenty breaths.

A thirty-five-thousand-year Wind Wood Dragon had almost no power to fight back against a fifty-thousand-year Profound Nether Eagle.

The five members of the Qing Clan, hidden in the shadows, watched from beginning to end.

Liu Yunlan gripped the porcelain bottle in her hand so hard her knuckles turned white.

The old lady had seen many soul beasts and many battles, but she had never witnessed a crushing defeat of this magnitude. It was not a battle; it was a slaughter.

Qing Hongyuan's breathing grew slightly rapid.

His Azure Snake Dragon Wing was also trembling slightly—not out of a desire to charge out, but as an instinctive reaction of fear.

His martial soul was an Azure Snake, a natural nemesis to avian soul beasts, but the status of the Profound Nether Eagle was simply too high.

Fifty thousand years against a level fifty-six soul king was like an elephant facing an ant.

Shen Wanqing huddled in the bushes, covering her mouth with both hands, not daring to make a sound.

As an auxiliary-type soul master, her instinct was not to fight, but to survive.

At this moment, every cell in her body was screaming two words: don't move.