After Yao Xiaotian retreated, only the sound of dripping water remained in the secret passage beneath the Ancestor Scale Platform.
Drip.
Drip.
Yellow Spring cold water fell from cracks in the rocks, striking the black stone floor and splashing tiny droplets. The marks torn open by the Dou Saint's pressure still stretched across the surroundings like black wounds, reminding everyone that a battle capable of shaking the Nine Nether Deep Earth Python Tribe had just taken place here.
Yao Ming did not head to the clan hall immediately.
He stood before the Ancestor Scale Platform, gripping the black ancestral scale in his palm. His face was pale, and his aura rose and fell unsteadily.
Having just escaped from the Yellow Spring, then forcibly using the Ancestor Scale Platform to fight Yao Xiaotian, he was far less composed than he appeared.
Xiao Fan was not doing much better.
Using the Heavenly Flames to guide the Ancestor Scale Platform, forcibly altering the flow of the Yellow Spring waters, then borrowing a Dou Saint's power to shift the formation had taken a far greater toll than anyone could see. Yet he stood steadily, his expression calm, as though the trace of blood at his lips did not belong to him.
Medusa glanced at him.
She did not say much in front of Yao Ming and Qing Lin. She merely stepped half a pace closer and placed her fingertips on his wrist.
The instant she felt his pulse in disarray, her violet eyes turned cold.
"Is this what you called a mere backlash?"
Xiao Fan said softly, "Better than taking a hit from a Dou Saint."
"So should I praise you for it?"
Xiao Fan fell silent for a moment.
"That won't be necessary."
Qing Lin held the injured little gray-scaled snake in her