Imperial Treasure

Pop pop pop!

The vines were constantly being pierced!

Without the slightest effort!

Huang Long’s face changed drastically.

But he saw the doors and windows of the houses ahead all shatter, crash~ one terrified resident after another was yanked out of their rooms by some force before the white-bone houses could completely seal them in, and while suspended in midair they saw that gigantic white-bone skeleton descending, and the woman using one hand to whip up Jin Guang to block that skeleton...

Her other hand... was gripping a sword.

The massive sword-wings spiraled into a storm, slicing, bone-chilling.

In just the blink of an eye, bone fragments flew everywhere, and that sharp, horrifying cutting sound drilled into their eardrums...

Huang Long and Zhao Mo both couldn’t move, because two streaks of black light came roaring in.

In an instant they each locked onto one of them.

Byzantine! Soma!

Huang Long’s eyes widened.

Boom.

A dull thud.

Within a radius of three kilometers, with Zhao Mo’s house as the center, the ground cracked in fine lines, a vast field of white.

Huang Long and the other felt a wave of chill blast into their faces; when they opened their eyes they found an oval transparent shield in front of them, with lines of golden script flowing across it.

Huang Long knew this was witchcraft, but he hadn’t known witchcraft could be manifested so concretely.

And this witchcraft had blocked Byzantine and Soma, the Skeleton Society’s number two and number three!

Byzantine and Soma’s faces held an indescribable shock.

What shocked them even more was that Sui Yi... was completely unscathed.

Of course, Agoleus wasn’t injured either.

One in the air above, one on the ground below.

Between them was a layer of dreamlike white-bone mist and golden flowing light.

Pale, golden, under the refracted sunlight it looked like the dawn light in Alice’s dreamscape.

Separated by such a dreamlike layer.

Just one move.

Crack crack, Agoleus snapped his broken hand bones straight and said slowly: "A Witch Body can tank a Void-breaking Level physical attack head-on, and control witchcraft with sheer will... In the oldest historical annals it’s said that Eastern witches were the most ancient and powerful beings in this world. Now I half believe it."

Half?

Sui Yi lowered her head to look at the scratch on the back of her hand carved out by the bone. The flesh was turned up, but was already healing.

"You’re also stronger than I imagined."

Agoleus’s lips hooked up.

"But you’re not focused enough."

He flicked a finger, tracing across those residents who had escaped with their lives by a hair’s breadth.

Sui Yi’s gaze skimmed past her, and past Byzantine and Soma, then suddenly she frowned.

She turned her head to look at Zhao Mo.

"Where is Dou Tian Shu?"

Zhao Mo met Sui Yi’s sharp gaze, froze, then his face suddenly changed in horror: "Oh no! Xiao Nian!"

Zhao Mo shot to his feet.

Sui Yi frowned, Xiao Nian?

Huang Long was also a bit in the dark, but still explained: "Old Zhao’s son. Seven years ago when I came to New York, it was because he had a kid in his old age."

Oh~ so?

Was Agoleus going to grab Zhao Mo’s son to threaten him?

Would the mighty Skeleton Emperor really need to take such a roundabout route? He could just snatch it directly, no need to...

Unless...

Sui Yi asked Zhao Mo: "Dou Tian Shu has already Spiritual Transformed, hasn’t it."

The muscles in Zhao Mo’s face twitched; in his eyes there was both fear and shame.

Silence was as good as an admission.

Huang Long was already stupefied.

He turned his head to look at Byzantine, Soma, and Agoleus’s expressions.

So the three of them had come here just...

Sui Yi: "I didn’t expect Agoleus to stall for time too, and bring two confidants along."

Forgive her, her imagination really wasn’t big enough; she hadn’t thought that the always domineering and vicious Skeleton Society would go for such a... shameless route.

"Others aren’t qualified, but you are."

Agoleus actually smiled, his laughter cold and eerie, yet also vast and desolate.

His body drew up into the air, bones scattering into countless white-bone eagles.

Byzantine and Soma took one look at Sui Yi, then also flashed away.

"Is he very far away?"

Sui Yi asked Zhao Mo.

"Even if I drive, it takes an hour and a half to get there." Zhao Mo’s face went pale and he plopped down onto the ground.

Sui Yi frowned. There was no way she could catch up; her Magnetic Sensation wasn’t that freakish. So...

Huang Long panted hard: "Old Zhao, what the hell is going on? Isn’t he your son? How did he suddenly become Dou Tian Shu, then the baby I saw seven years ago..."

"That was it."

"I don’t know why it suddenly turned into a baby either. Back then, Ah Jiali had a car accident and was taken to the hospital. The hospital told me neither she nor the child would make it. I refused to believe that and brought her home... Ah Jiali fought to give birth to the child, but it was a stillbirth. They both died... That night he appeared. I thought Heaven was pitying me. I never treated him as Dou Tian Shu... Huang Long, he’s my son, my and Ah Jiali’s son."

Zhao Mo’s eyes were bloodshot; the grown man sat on the ground as if all the life had suddenly gone out of him.

Huang Long fell silent.

But to everyone else, he was Dou Tian Shu.

And now, Dou Tian Shu had fallen into Agoleus’s hands. The Central Plains crisis that clearly could have been defused had now inevitably coalesced into a storm.

Sui Yi also stayed silent. She looked in the direction of the World Trade Center. Chase now?

No need.

Agoleus was not someone who gave others chances.

So...

"Let’s go back." Sui Yi turned to give them a look, flicked her sleeve, and the two of them were swept up.

The three of them vanished.

Meanwhile, in the trade market of the Queens Distrct, there was a rather cramped little shop, like one of those mom-and-pop stores from the seventies or eighties, narrow and crowded, filled with the mixed smell of motor oil and grilled sausages.

Yet in such a shop, there were many customers.

And they all seemed anything but ordinary.

For example, an assassin—beneath the weapons rack in the back room, Su Zimu, dressed in light gear, stood with her arms crossed, looking up at the news report playing on the wall, that white, boundless world of bone.

The Nation’s media had always been terrifyingly fast and utterly unscrupulous. Whether it was the president’s sex scandals or the filthy black dealings of congressmen, as long as their cameras caught it, the next second it could be broadcast on computers and TVs for everyone in the Nation to see.

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