Chapter 1259: The Wujiao Dragon Mark
Chapter 1258: The Wujiao Dragon Mark
The moment the Wujiao Dragon Mark appeared, a frigid gale roared through the air. The aura it exuded was so overwhelming that it made the crowd’s hearts tremble. A feral dragon’s roar reverberated in everyone’s ears.
“Dragon!”
Great Chieftain Dan Lie and the others all turned pale.
Even the Flame Shaman and Azure Shaman were struck with disbelief, soon followed by uncontrollable fury.
The Flame Shaman bellowed:
“Your Wujiao Tribe dares to steal a Dragon Mark and defile the Royal Court?! You deserve ten thousand deaths!”
The Wujiao Young Chieftain’s expression remained cold as he replied indifferently:
“The Great Wilderness’ Dragon Vein belongs to the virtuous. How can it be called theft? Since I bear the Dragon Mark, it proves that the Dragon Vein itself has acknowledged me. I carry the mandate of kingship—Heaven’s destiny upon my bloodline. The Divine Dragon has recognized my blood, descended upon me. And you—a mere Shaman—what right do you have to speak before me?”
The Flame Shaman’s expression twisted. Rage surged within him, yet he could not refute a single word.
For in the Great Wilderness, the Dragon only recognized royal bloodlines.
Other barbarian tribes, with their inferior blood, could never withstand the essence of dragon blood or dragon qi; to forcefully engrave such power upon their flesh would result in death by backlash.
Thus, anyone who could bear an entire Dragon Pattern upon their body, even if not of direct royal descent, must be someone favored by the Mandate of Kingship.
The Wujiao Young Chieftain was right… and that truth only made the Flame Shaman’s anger burn fiercer.
Because this meant that in these chaotic times, the royal authority was waning. The destiny of the Great Wilderness was in disarray, and the royal dynasty might soon change hands.
To the Flame Shaman—who had long served the gods of the Wilderness and the Royal Court—this was nothing short of cosmic treason, a reversal of Heaven’s order.
Even Dan Lie, Lu-Gu, and the other tribal chieftains were shaken to their core, unsure how to act.
The Wujiao Young Chieftain cast an imperious gaze upon them, his tone hoarse yet commanding:
“Now that the Dragon Vein has manifested—why not kneel? Do you dare rebel against the true dragon of the Great Wilderness?”
Silence fell. The atmosphere grew suffocating. None of the great chieftains dared to speak or move.
Moments later, Great Alliance Leader Dan Lie sneered coldly:
“A true dragon? Ridiculous. That’s no dragon—merely a patchwork abomination pretending to be one!”
The Flame Shaman’s eyes glinted. He followed up sharply:
“Indeed. I have served the Royal Court for decades and never have I seen such a black and ominous ‘dragon.’ This thing is no legitimate dragon—it’s merely a demonic illusion your tribe uses to deceive the masses!”
The Flame Shaman’s tone turned cutting:
“You have forged a Dragon Mark in secret—rebelling against the Royal Court. That crime warrants death!”
His words ignited a storm of outrage.
“Forging a Dragon Mark is a capital crime!”
“Rebellion against the Royal Court—exterminate the whole tribe!”
Enraged, the Great Chieftain of the Flamewing Tribe charged first, roaring:
“Traitor, die!”
Dan Lie, Lu-Gu, and the others acted in unison, unleashing their power in a combined strike to slay the Wujiao Young Chieftain—determined to extinguish this threat at all costs.
The Great Wilderness could not allow another dragon to exist.
Seeing the encirclement close in, the Young Chieftain’s face darkened, then curved into a chilling smile.
“Fools of lowly blood. Since you crave death, I shall grant it.”
He spread his arms wide. The Dragon pattern on his skin seemed to come alive, writhing like a serpentine wyrm, exuding savage, suffocating might.
“Let me show you… what a true dragon is. What true bloodline power means.”
With a distorted dragon’s roar, the Young Chieftain’s body expanded, muscles surging.
The Dragon pattern coursed across his flesh; scales sprouted, encasing his body.
His eyes and lips turned pitch-black; his pupils slit into beast-like vertical lines, gleaming with crimson malice. He looked every bit like a Black Dragon Young Chieftain.
Though only at mid-stage Golden Core cultivation, his aura alone made hearts quail.
Dan Lie and the others had no choice but to brace themselves, unleashing their tribal treasures in a desperate assault.
A fierce, no-holds-barred battle erupted.
But the half-dragonized Young Chieftain’s body was monstrously resilient—his scales impenetrable.
His defense was absolute, and his offense terrifying. Each strike carried roaring dragon might; a single blow could shatter bone and bloodline alike. Any cultivator struck by that Dragon Force would have their blood and meridians torn apart from within.
Few could withstand even a hundred exchanges.
Even Lu-Gu was defeated.
And this despite the chieftains having higher cultivation realms.
The power of the Dragon Mark’s bloodline was beyond reason.
The watching warriors turned pale with horror.
In the distance, tens of thousands of Vermilion Sparrow warriors trembled. Their morale shattered beneath the Young Chieftain’s oppressive dragon might, while the Wujiao army roared his name in fervent worship, shaking the entire mountain range.
The tide of battle had turned completely.
The Young Chieftain, with his own strength alone, suppressed all the allied chieftains.
It was not merely power—it was bloodline suppression, the fear of the dragon’s divine majesty.
The chieftains felt their fighting spirits erode under the instinctive terror of kneeling before a dragon.
It was as if this Wujiao Young Chieftain truly was the son of a dragon… the rightful ruler of the Great Wilderness.
With the Wujiao generals closing in, Dan Lie and the others were forced back nearly a hundred zhang from the divine altar.
The Young Chieftain merely watched them retreat, his lips curling into a cold, contemptuous smile.
“Now that I have become a dragon, I am no longer of your kind. Between us flows a chasm of bloodline. You are born to be ruled by me.”
His words struck deep, leaving every great chieftain seething with humiliation… yet they could not deny the truth.
The Young Chieftain turned away, raising his proud head toward the divine altar of the Vermilion Sparrow Mountain. His dark eyes burned with fervent ambition.
“Kindle the Vermilion Flame. Awaken the ancient altar. Invite the descent of the Great Wujiao God, to rule this mountain realm.”
“When that time comes, I shall be the Lord of the Vermilion Sparrow.”
“My blood… shall be royal blood.”
Step by step, the Wujiao Young Chieftain ascended the divine altar.
The chieftains could only watch helplessly. They could not stop one who bore the Dragon Mark and wielded such bloodline might.
Like a demonic dragon incarnate, the Young Chieftain strode up the sacred steps toward the ancestral altar—the sanctum of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribes.
He even dared approach the divine throne itself.
Many chieftains bit their lips in fury, their hearts boiling with despair.
But just as the Young Chieftain set foot upon the altar… a change occurred.
The altar trembled, and the Vermilion Fire surged violently, erupting like a storm of divine flame.
This was no ordinary fire—it was divine sense flame, pure and transcendent.
Even the late-stage Golden Core cultivators nearby felt its searing pain upon their souls, and faintly heard the cry of a Vermilion Bird echoing in their minds.
The altar was a sacred forbidden ground.
The Vermilion Fire upon it burned far fiercer than any other.
Even the Young Chieftain turned pale in an instant.
His body was mightier than steel, and his Dragon Mark tyrannical beyond compare—but these were powers of flesh and blood.
The Vermilion Fire was of spirit and divinity—it burned the soul itself.
He could not endure it.
The moment he stepped upon the altar, the Vermilion Fire invaded his mind, forcing him to stagger back in retreat.
All fell silent.
Even the warriors of the Wujiao Tribe—who had believed their Young Chieftain to be Heaven’s chosen—froze in confusion.
The Young Chieftain backed down, frowning deeply.
At that instant, black mist swirled.
An old man emerged beside him, wearing a robe of a dead vulture.
His face was pale, his eyes eerie green, feathers of black vulture upon his robe—he looked every bit like a decrepit, carrion-eating vulture.
The elder bowed respectfully to the Young Chieftain:
“Young Chieftain, your vision is vast, your bloodline noble, your Dragon Mark divine. Sooner or later, this wilderness shall be your kingdom.”
“But this divine altar is of the Divine Dao. Only those who serve the gods with reverence—those who kneel in devotion and dedicate their lives—may set foot upon it.”
“This, old servant shall do in your stead. Your exalted body need not stoop to such ritual.”
The Wujiao Young Chieftain regarded him with a cold gaze, then gave a slight nod.
The Black-Clocked Vulture Elder turned toward the altar, bowed deeply to the Vermilion Sparrow’s Statue, and began to chant:
“O ancient Vermilion Divine Lord…”
“I, a humble servant of the Great Wujiao God, speak before thee. The Great Wilderness suffers calamity and famine. The descendants of the Vermilion Tribes have forsaken the way, and the Divine Dao fades.”
“Now, my Young Chieftain bears the Dragon Sigil and holds grand ambition.”
“Our Great Wujiao God, moved by compassion, shall deliver all beings from their suffering.”
“We beseech the Divine Lord to lend us this sacred ground, to allow the descent of our Great Vulture God—so that His might may shine upon the world and save the Great Wilderness from despair.”
“This old servant offers his worship and gratitude to the Divine Lord…”
After finishing, the Black-Vulture Elder bowed again to the Vermilion Bird Statue, then began chanting a divine incantation. His eyes sank into his skull, pupils gleaming like those of a carrion hawk, as though something vast and dreadful had descended upon him.
A black, feather-shaped spiritual aura coiled around his head, guarding his Sea of Consciousness.
Step by step, the Black Vulture Elder ascended the divine altar, entering the blazing yet invisible divine flames.
The Vermilion Bird’s divine fire, impartial to all, seared his soul—but the black feathers shielded him completely.
He walked upward, unscathed.
The Wujiao Young Chieftain’s eyes gleamed with cold light, but he said nothing.
He simply watched as his tribe’s Shaman, the Black Vulture Elder, ascended the divine altar that even he, the Young Chieftain, could not set foot upon.
At that moment, Chief Dan-Lie’s eyes sharpened.
He suddenly drew a long feathered bow engraved with Vermilion Bird patterns—a sacred heirloom of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, imbued with Vermilion Bird power. Within such a divine site, its might was magnified manyfold.
Until now, Chief Dan-Lie had refrained from using it.
He had been waiting—for the single perfect moment to slay the Wujiao Tribe’s shaman.
Once the shaman died, none could resist the Vermilion Bird’s divine fire nor ascend the altar.
It would end everything in one stroke—crushing the Wujiao Tribe’s ambition utterly.
He had told no one of this plan. He meant to end it with one arrow.
As Chief Dan-Lie drew the bow, countless flames converged into a single blazing arrow.
The Vermilion Bird’s cry echoed through the air, its aura awe-inspiring.
The instant the fiery arrow appeared, the air trembled with burning heat—the Wujiao Young Chieftain’s face paled instantly, and the Wujiao generals gasped.
“Stop him!”
The Young Chieftain roared, flashing forward to block between Chief Dan-Lie and the ascending Black Vulture Elder.
The Wujiao generals rushed to intercept as well.
But they were a moment too late.
Chief Dan-Lie’s arrow struck like lightning—no words wasted—only a single cold command at the release:
“Die!”
A shrill Vermilion Bird’s cry split the air—ten thousand flames merged into a streak of crimson light.
The Vermilion Bird’s Arrow shot forth, tracing a blazing line across the sky, hurtling straight toward the Black Vulture Elder.
Two Wujiao generals who tried to block it were pierced clean through the chest.
The Wujiao Young Chieftain, quick-witted as ever, predicted the arrow’s path in that life-or-death instant.
His right hand transformed into a dragon’s claw that snatched the arrow midflight… but only for a heartbeat.
The next moment, the arrow exploded in fire, Vermilion flames bursting forth.
It tore through his dragon scales, ripped open his claw, and scorched his hand.
For the first time in this battle, his draconic body had been wounded.
Fury flashed in the Wujiao Young Chieftain’s heart, but he could not waste time on anger.
The Black Vulture Elder must not die… not yet.
He turned sharply just in time to see the Vermilion Bird Arrow, wrapped in blazing fire, flying straight for the old shaman.
The Black Vulture Elder, as a Shaman, could foresee misfortune and should have avoided it. But now, he was ascending the ancient Divine Altar, surrounded on all sides by the Vermilion Bird’s divine flames… fire capable of burning the Divine-Sense.
He had to constantly recite his Divine Dao Incantation and invoke the protection of the Great Wujiao Deity to withstand the crushing pressure, climbing step by step up the ladder of divinity. Grand Chieftain Dan-Lie’s aim had been very precise.
The old shaman had no strength left to evade a strike of such devastating might.
Yet, as the Wujiao Tribe’s presiding Shaman over the entire Divine Descent Ritual, the Black Vulture Elder was far from ordinary.
His body suddenly decayed, turning into a rotted decayed husk, the surface crawling with the stench and feathers of a carrion vulture.
The Wujiao Tribe fed on carrion, and could transform flesh into decay.
That rotting shell swelled up, forming a barrier that enveloped the old man within.
Then the Vermilion Bird Arrow struck, flames surged forth, nearly burning the decayed body to ash.
The arrow’s destructive power was terrifying beyond words.
But after piercing through the Wujiao generals and wounding the Young Chieftain, its strength had weakened slightly.
Thus, it did not completely kill the old shaman.
Black feathers scattered, and from the remnants of decayed flesh, the old man’s body reformed… half of it vaporized away.
The Black Vulture Elder turned, his hollow blackened eye socket fixed on Chief Dan-Lie with pure hatred, as if he wanted tear him to pieces.
But the divine descent mattered more… every second counted.
Suppressing his fury, he continued to climb, step by step, toward the peak of the divine altar—with what remained of his mutilated body—to summon his Great Wujiao God.
Once the god descended, his wish would be fulfilled: all enemies of the Divine Dao would perish in a sea of rotting flesh, their souls utterly annihilated…
(End of this Chapter)