There was not the faintest hint of life about this person; he moved like a phantom through the deep night, stepping soundlessly along the boundless avenue.
Behind him, the arcs of lightning seemed to cloak him in a shimmering, electric robe, illuminating him with an even more dazzling brilliance.
For a moment, a deeply conflicted feeling washed over the crowd.
This man appeared as a grotesque fusion of light and shadow, presenting himself in a manner so bizarre it verged on the extreme, an image that would be forever etched into their minds.
Franklin’s eyes narrowed, and even the aura surrounding him wavered for an instant.
Upon seeing this person, even he felt an immense pressure bearing down.
Though the figure emitted no discernible pressure, the Pope of the Western Temple, who had clashed with this individual before, knew that the moment this person unleashed that earth-shattering might, the instant of their life-or-death struggle would arrive.
He inhaled deeply, the hand gripping the Staff of Light tightening almost imperceptibly.
All the power of light surrounding him seemed, at that moment, to be propelled by some invisible force, coalescing into defensive layers around his body.
While Franklin knew these meager defenses were useless against his opponent, he enacted them anyway. Facing this man, he preferred engaging in any futile action rather than being blindsided by the sudden appearance of that obsidian trident-sword.
“Sect Master Fan Shu…” Franklin addressed him, “Are you also intending to intervene in this matter?”
Upon hearing Franklin’s designation, everyone’s expression shifted drastically; they simultaneously thought of one person.
Instantly, every gaze fixed upon Hundred and Eight was filled with sheer dread. Whether they were Eastern or Western Venerables, hearing this name sent a profound chill deep into their bones. A tremor even ran through their bodies.
Yet, a burning question lodged in their minds.
Why would such a formidable master emerge from this expanse of potent lightning? And what hidden connection did he share with He Yiming?
Hundred and Eight silently regarded Franklin. He projected no imposing aura, yet the more vacant he seemed, the more cautious the Pope of the Western Temple became. Until he deciphered the intentions behind this person’s arrival, he dared not make a rash move.
After a brief pause, Franklin spoke in a grave tone, “Respected Sect Master Fan Shu, to my knowledge, you, like us in the West, have been excluded from the circle invited by Bing Xiaotian.” He paused, seemingly allowing the figure time to absorb his words. “If Sect Master Fan Shu is willing, let us join forces.”
A flicker of light danced in Hundred and Eight’s eyes. He instantly calculated that if the conversation followed this track, stalling for another quarter of an hour would be trivially easy.
“Your Holiness the Pope, even if you and I joined forces, it might be difficult to stand against them.”
By this time, He Yiming had reached the edge of the lightning field, absorbing every expression on the faces around him, and noting Hundred and Eight’s current demeanor.
Although he had only met the Ancestor of the Yellow Springs once, the form Hundred and Eight had assumed was indistinguishable from that man who stood with his back to the mountains, appearing as monumental as the peaks themselves—carved from the same mold.
Coupled with his uncanny entrance, the impression of profound mystery deepened. And now, when he spoke, both his tone and timbre were identical to the Ancestor of the Yellow Springs.
Even if Hao Xue were resurrected and the two Deputy Sect Masters of the Yellow Springs Sect arrived in person, they would never discern a flaw in this imposter.
Franklin, naturally, was even less likely to see through it. Hearing Hundred and Eight’s response, he smiled faintly. “Sect Master Fan Shu, the Western world has already allied. If you join us, that makes three Human Dao Apex experts—enough to force Bing Xiaotian and the others to reconsider.”
Silence fell over the group. Franklin was correct; the combined strength of three Human Dao Apex masters was almost inconceivable. While they might not directly overpower Bing Xiaotian and his faction, if their goal was merely sabotage, no one in the world could possibly stop them.
Whatever grand design Bing Xiaotian held by gathering the world's Human Dao Apex experts, the mere presence of three such figures operating covertly in the shadows guaranteed failure.
Hundred and Eight’s head shifted slightly, but the movement was so peculiar that even Franklin, with his sharp vision, couldn't tell if it was a nod or a shake of the head.
“Your Holiness the Pope, I am deeply honored by your invitation.” A smile, oddly chilling and unsettling, touched Hundred and Eight’s lips. “After careful consideration, I am most willing to join you in this magnificent undertaking.”
Franklin let out a long breath, a look of profound satisfaction spreading across his face.
Although the Ancestor of the Yellow Springs was universally acknowledged as the world's foremost assassin, once a martial artist reached his level of cultivation, personal commitment carried immense weight. Since he had agreed, regardless of what transpired—unless the Western powers themselves betrayed the pact—they were now allies in the same trench, with no turning back.
He Yiming’s lips curled slightly; even he was uncertain of his own feelings in this moment. His sole thought was what kind of exchange might occur if the true Ancestor of the Yellow Springs and the Pope of the Temple were ever to meet.
Hundred and Eight’s mastery of disguise was terrifyingly potent; not even a Human Dao Apex expert detected any irregularity. Of course, this was partly due to the manner of his arrival; had he not appeared amidst such dazzling spectacle, Franklin might not have been so easily deceived.
The Pope’s gaze finally shifted from the peer standing before him to the still-flickering mass of lightning.
His own mind was filled with suspicion. Within that electrical field pulsed a colossal essence, a power so immense it was horrifying. Compared to it, he felt perhaps even slightly inferior.
An aura greater than his own belonged, in this world, only to the top-tier Sacred Beasts. Because of their distinct physiologies, Sacred Beasts could contain far vaster amounts of Heaven and Earth energy than humans. Conversely, Sacred Beasts were generally inferior to humans in the application of True Qi and the use of divine weaponry. Otherwise, any clash between a Human Dao Apex master and a prime Sacred Beast would invariably result in a decisive human defeat.
Franklin was certain that at the center of the lightning was a top-tier, lightning-element Sacred Beast, but this beast seemed intimately connected to both He Yiming and the Ancestor of the Yellow Springs, leaving him utterly undecided.
Hundred and Eight’s brow furrowed slightly. “What is your plan now?”
His words immediately pulled Franklin’s thoughts back to the immediate objective. For true Human Dao Apex experts, nothing held more importance than the Ice Island, an event occurring once in a millennium. For this miraculous island, or rather, for the chance to ascend to the Divine Path, he would pay any price.
“Leave them,” Franklin stated confidently. “Deliver our message. Bing Xiaotian and the others should make the wise choice.”
Leaving behind the top prospective Venerables of the major sects was indeed a grave warning. Once those supreme figures learned this was the combined effort of three Human Dao Apex masters, their calculations would inevitably shift.
Hundred and Eight nodded, yet his eyes betrayed no fluctuation, as if he hadn't truly taken the Pope's words to heart.
“Did you come alone this time?” Hundred and Eight inquired at an unhurried pace.
He Yiming inwardly praised the man. Hundred and Eight was truly Hundred and Eight; in the time it took to exchange these few sentences, a quarter of an hour had almost passed, and the Pope was thoroughly bamboozled. He recalled the time Hundred and Eight mentioned that the Sect Master of the Yellow Springs had once asked if he would consider becoming an assassin. Watching Hundred and Eight now, so perfectly integrated into the role of the Yellow Springs Sect Master while calmly conversing with Franklin, He Yiming felt a similar sentiment rise within himself: with such miraculous abilities, it would be a true waste if Hundred and Eight did not become an assassin.
Franklin shook his head slightly. “The Temple and the Dark Council have joined hands. Garfield has come along this time as well.”
Though the names Garfield did not register with either He Yiming or Hundred and Eight, it was clear that anyone mentioned by Franklin with such parity in tone could only be one figure in the entire West: the chairman of the Dark Covenant Council, another Human Dao Apex expert who, like the Ancestor of the Yellow Springs in the East, favored lurking in the shadows.
“Where is he now?” Hundred and Eight asked, his eyes brightening momentarily.
Franklin offered a wry smile. “By agreement, he should have arrived five days ago, but there has been no word until this moment. Unless…” He hesitated. “He has been delayed by some matter.”
For a Human Dao Apex expert, there were virtually no threats to their life left in this world, and only truly extraordinary incidents could significantly impede their travel.
Hundred and Eight nodded slowly, then suddenly spun and departed. A wisp of black light trailed from him as he shot away into the distance in an instant.
He Yiming’s eyes widened; this man’s capacity for meticulous planning was terrifying. The performance was complete, down to simulating the divine light of the trident-sword. If anyone still claimed this was not the Sect Master of the Yellow Springs, even He Yiming would struggle to disbelieve it.
A subtle movement stirred at his chest. A faint sound resonated within his armor, reaching his ears the next instant.
“Time’s up.”
Behind He Yiming, the White Horse Lightning gave a slight quiver. Its heavy eyelids slowly peeled open, revealing a pair of beautiful, almost expressive, large eyes.