Chapter 897 - 435: Spirit Mark
"Yes, but it won’t be that obvious."
Diao paused. "I saw it once when I was little. Back then, the Great Witch was extremely serious, led me through a lot of routine cultivation, made sure I could skillfully use shapeshifting to evade any possible emergence of Otherworld Objects before allowing me to come back here."
"You could enter the Transcendent Realm when you were a child?"
"I... uh, they all said I was very talented."
They weren’t wrong, Li Ang thought.
Do the people of the Land of Ten Thousand Spirits have to face the Demon’s gaze in their cultivation? That really is a harsh yet admirable path.
They inherit knowledge, choose neither to develop nor to conquer—only to inherit.
But would people really do something with no purpose at all?
Maybe it’s not that there’s no purpose, just that ordinary minds can’t comprehend it.
It’s like they’re waiting for something, continuing the transmission of knowledge for some hidden aim.
It can’t possibly be—
Li Ang pressed his palm to his chest, feeling that this journey to complete the mission of inheritance and lift the Curse had suddenly become much heavier.
"Kree!"
Diao let out a sharp cry and suddenly climbed higher. A jagged black tentacle scraped past her wing, shearing off a few feathers.
After evading the attack, the young girl said in disbelief, "I’ve never heard of Otherworld Objects being this active. They’re even growing more frenzied."
Li Ang leaned past the giant eagle’s body and looked down. Just as she said, the original layer of phosphorescence had vanished without a trace, leaving only the ceaselessly churning thick black substance, veined with streaks of blood-red.
"Maybe it’s because of my hand."
Li Ang looked at his left-hand portion that had once been the Demon Arm. The Hand of the Wounded Knight, without Spiritual Force Field Infusion, lay as silent as a flawless sculpture.
Yet he could still feel his left hand as if it were there; vague phantom pain stirred in the prosthetic, which was likely the Curse’s anchor.
Rather than say "Otherworld Objects" were attacking him, it felt more like they wanted to take him away. He had no proof, but his intuition made him utterly certain.
Another eagle’s cry rang out, but from far away. Li Ang and the young girl both saw it: above the seething darkness, an unimaginably huge Eagle appeared.
This Eagle looked very old. Its feathers had lost their luster and color; many places were mottled and bald, exposing the wrinkled skin beneath.
Old as it was, as it whipped up great winds, the Otherworld Objects were blown into constant swaying, unable to assault them for the moment.
"The Great Witch is helping you!"
Diao’s voice was bright with excitement, and the speed of her wingbeats surged; her reverence for the old man was obvious.
"How do we get through that gate?"
Li Ang looked at the painted giant gate ahead—it was right there, yet somehow the distance never seemed to shrink—and asked.
"The Great Witch once said: it’s when you feel you’re ready."
What kind of abstract answer is that?
Li Ang didn’t snap at Diao. After the brief complaint, he started pondering what the Great Witch was hinting at.
If we’re talking about Power, he could already enter the Transcendent Realm right now—that meant it was sufficient. So what did "ready" require? Some sort of unwavering, forward-pressing will?
Li Ang had just begun to think when, from the darkness below, a dense clump of blackness suddenly jetted upward. It punched through the winds stirred by the giant eagle’s wings, shooting toward Li Ang and Diao.
The brown eagle folded its wings, dove, and banked, smoothly streaking past the black mass’s flank, then shapeshifting again.
This time, she became a darting Fish with ink-dark scales. The Oil Painting World held no Water, nothing she could rely on, yet she still swam at high speed, deftly dodging the impact of the black mass.
Li Ang raised the Orichalcum, aiming at the black thing and condensing a Decomposition Light Wave.
The clump seemed to sense the danger of that beam. It hesitated slightly, then began to writhe, like surging black mud.
From the black mud, a man stood up. A look of utter confidence, as if he saw through everything, hung on his face. That babyish face looked harmless as a lamb, easy to win others’ trust.
"Li Ang," the baby-faced youth said, "you don’t really think witches are that useful, do you? Don’t take yourself so seriously. This world won’t be any different with or without you."
Rams?
Before Li Ang could grasp what was happening, the reversed blade in the baby-faced youth’s hand came slicing at him, trailing a rainbow spectrum. Li Ang lifted the Force Field Hand to counter, clamping down on the Long Blade so the youth couldn’t pull it free.
"Curse Art is just a petty trick. Do you know how the other Sky Knights talk about you behind your back? What they say? Your inflated self-image has brought gossip and blemish to the team..."
A dazzling flash of light suddenly carved past beside them. The edge of a Giant Sword swept down toward Rams’ head.
"Hahaha!"
The blond youth gripped the Giant Sword with both hands and whipped his arms in a rapid dance. The blade hacked in a wild flurry, driving Rams to desperation and tearing his body apart.
"Viel?!" Li Ang was even more astonished.
The old captain who had always charged at the front back in the day appeared—only in his younger form.
He gave Li Ang a thumbs-up with a hearty grin, his white teeth even flashing once.
The younger versions of Morales, Farina, and a not-yet-so-bald Kitan swept past him, each unleashing their own moves to blast Rams apart.
"Forward, Li Ang! Keep going!" Viel shouted.
Diao, in her Fish form, carried the somewhat dazed witch and left that scene behind them.
"What is going on..."
Coming back to himself, Li Ang almost muttered, "That black thing is an Otherworld Object. Can it detect what lies in my heart? But then what were Viel and the others that came out afterward?"
"The Ten Thousand Spirits are helping you. That’s wonderful." The young girl’s voice overflowed with delight.