Chapter 102: Late

"If that's the case, then it's just as well... In fact, members of the Wuchang Alliance recognize only the masks, not the people... Even if one knows that the person behind the mask has changed, as long as the mask is not destroyed, the successor is still acknowledged... And... since the alliance strictly forbids members from revealing each other's identities... a change of person is even harder to detect..." Luomeng's ghost said with a smile, but his words were intermittent, sounding quite weak.

A wisp of extremely faint black mist slowly flowed out from his shoulder, swaying in the air like a strand of waterweed.

"Fellow Daoist Liu, this remnant soul of mine can barely... barely hold on any longer. If you have any more questions, ask quickly..." The little black figure turned his head to glance at the black mist on his shoulder and said with a bitter smile.

As soon as he finished speaking, a wisp of black mist also began to escape from his calf.

"I have no more questions. If you have any unfinished wishes, speak them now. Within my power, I will not refuse." Han Li looked at Luomeng's ghost and shook his head.

Luomeng's ghost looked up at the sky and murmured:

"If you can fulfill what I previously requested, that is enough... I dare not have any other extravagant hopes... If my Luo clan can one day rise again, my wishes will be fully satisfied..."

As his voice gradually weakened, his figure also twisted and faded, turning into wisps of black smoke that rose faintly into the air, ultimately dissipating completely between heaven and earth.

Han Li stared blankly at the void where Luomeng's ghost had vanished, somewhat lost in thought. This bond inherited deep within the bloodline could not help but move him.

After a long moment, he came to his senses and, with a grasping motion through the air, snatched the ox-head mask into his hand.

This time, the mask did not turn ethereal but fell obediently into his grasp.

Han Li narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the strange patterns on the mask, and once again sank into contemplation.

…

Half a month later.

Over a stretch of sea countless miles away from Crowfeather Island, the sky was filled with leaden gray clouds, and fierce winds whipped across the surface, stirring up monstrous waves.

A streak of cyan light, like a razor-sharp sword, pierced through the towering waves, splitting them in two and sending up countless pearl-like silver sprays.

Within the cyan light was a tall man in a blue robe, his face hidden behind a dark blue ox-head mask, though his eyes gleamed brightly through the mask's openings.

This man was none other than Han Li, who had taken Luo Meng's place to go to Seagrass Island.

Dozens of miles ahead of him on the sea surface floated a round island no more than a mile in circumference, which from a distance resembled a piece of green lotus leaf gently swaying with the waves—it was his destination.

Han Li slowed down and flew another dozen or so li closer, the island's appearance becoming increasingly clear.

On the island grew many sea banyan trees, with lush foliage and verdant leaves, their huge crowns pressed closely together, covering the entire island. Countless branches as thick as an adult's arm were layered and interwoven into a thick green wooden wall.

On these dense lateral branches grew countless slender lateral roots, some probing into the soil, others hanging down into the seawater, densely packed and connected, looking like the beard of an old man.

Han Li flew to the edge of the sea banyan island and hovered, looking inward. He saw the ground covered with gray-white bird droppings, but not a single seabird in sight among the trees.

Moreover, aside from the "wooing" sound of the sea wind passing through the branches, there was no other noise. The entire island was unusually quiet.

Just then, a somewhat cold voice suddenly sounded in Han Li's ear:

"Jiao Fifteen, since you're here, why not come ashore?"

Han Li was slightly surprised, for the voice had not come from within the island but from the mask on his face.

He then moved and flew down toward the island.

The soil on the island was very soft; with each step, his foot would sink into a pit. Han Li walked unsteadily, passing through gaps in the dense forest, and arrived at the center of the island.

At the center of the small island stood a giant sea banyan tree that would take three people to encircle, its aerial roots hanging down from the main trunk having been trimmed away, clearing a relatively spacious open area.

Several figures were in the open area, either sitting or standing, scattered around the tree trunk.

Han Li swept his gaze over and immediately fixed his eyes on a man in a red robe sitting upright directly in front of the sea banyan tree.

The man wore a vermilion dragon-head mask on his head, also carved with many strange runes, and at the center of the mask's brow, a number "three" was inscribed in bizarre characters.

"Jiao San."

Han Li's mind stirred, and he fell silent in contemplation.

The man wearing the dragon-head mask merely glanced casually at Han Li before withdrawing his gaze, showing no intention of conversing with him.

Han Li naturally paid him no heed either, instead shifting his gaze to look at the other people.

One of them was slightly hunched, wearing a loose purple robe and a blue goat-head mask on his head, with the character "nine" engraved on it.

He had been half-crouching on the ground, staring at the ground, seemingly looking at something, and did not even lift his head to acknowledge Han Li.

Not far from him, a tall man wearing a blue tiger-head mask stood and nodded slightly at him.

Han Li said nothing, glanced at the number "16" on the man's forehead, and nodded slightly in return.

On the left side of the tree trunk, a woman in a gauze skirt with an owl mask leaned her graceful body against the sea banyan, her slender arms crossed over her chest, casting a sidelong glance toward Han Li. The number on her mask was "21."

Behind her, on the other side of the sea banyan, a head wearing a dark blue falcon mask engraved with "25" poked out, swept a glance up and down at Han Li, then withdrew.

On a horizontal branch to the right of the sea banyan, a gaunt figure hung upside down, wearing an ape mask with the character "8" engraved on it.

Seeing Han Li studying him, the man's two yellowish-brown eyes rolled around through the mask's holes, sizing up Han Li in return.

Below this man, a slender man in a water-blue long robe with a bear mask sat upright, eyes closed in meditation.

On the center of his mask's forehead was engraved "13."

Whether due to the rules of the Wuchang Alliance or some other reason, no one spoke, not even the red-robed man with the jiao mask, who did not utter a single extra word to anyone.

Seeing this, Han Li found a spot to sit down, closed his eyes, and began to regulate his breathing.

This wait lasted eight days.

During this time, no one else arrived, and none of those present spoke or left.

The atmosphere was indescribably eerie.

Not until the morning of the eighth day, when the first rays of sunlight from the sea shone onto the island, did the red-robed man, who had been sitting silently in front of the sea banyan, lift his head slightly and stand up from the ground.

A somewhat stiff voice came from beneath the jiao mask:

"Time is up..."

Hearing this, everyone rose from the ground. The gaunt man with the ape mask, who had been staying on the tree trunk, immediately jumped down.

Just then, a streak of light shot toward the island from afar, plummeting from the sky like a boulder and crashing onto the island.

The entire island shook violently, and all the branches swayed fiercely.

As the light faded, a burly figure wearing a wild boar mask was revealed.

As soon as he set foot on the island, he charged impetuously toward the center, not dodging or avoiding obstacles along the way, directly breaking through any branches or roots in his path.

Arriving before the group, he swept his gaze around and then bellowed directly, "Which one is Jiao San?"

After speaking, he unabashedly scanned everyone present, finally fixing his eyes on the red-robed man with the dragon-head mask.

"So you're Jiao San. Hurry up and announce the mission. I have important business to attend to afterward," the wild boar mask man said loudly, looking the other up and down.

"Jiao Sanshier, you are late," the red-robed man said indifferently, looking at the burly man.

"Less than half a stick of incense—is that worth mentioning? Get to the point. Don't waste time," the burly man waved his hand impatiently.

Han Li, standing to the side, suddenly felt an inexplicable jolt in his heart and instinctively stepped back.

The next moment, a startling scene unfolded.

A layer of red light suddenly flared around the red-robed man, and with a "whoosh," a blaze of crimson flames erupted, enveloping his body. A wave of scorching heat burst forth, forcing everyone nearby to retreat.

His body lunged forward sharply, and his hand, fingers together like a blade, stabbed toward the chest of the burly man with the wild boar mask.

Faced with the red-robed man's unprovoked attack, the burly man reacted swiftly, stepping back and quickly forming hand seals before his chest. A layer of white light immediately glowed on his body surface.

At the same time, an octagonal white crystal shield materialized in front of him.

The shield's surface was covered with diamond-shaped patterns, shining with a dazzling white radiance, from which waves of law fluctuations emanated.

Although it was only a hasty defensive measure, Han Li sensed that these law fluctuations seemed even stronger than those of Han Qiu and his ilk.

A dull "thud" was heard.

There was no violent collision as expected, nor any formidable声势. The two had exchanged only one blow, and the outcome was decided instantly.

The crowd watched in horror as Jiao San's hand had pierced through the octagonal crystal shield and stabbed straight into the burly man's heart.

From the breach in his chest, wisps of white smoke rose, and the surrounding ring of muscle had been burned into a liquid state, dripping like ignited grease.

"For disobeying orders and reporting late, Jiao Sanshier's membership in the Wuchang Alliance is revoked," Jiao San said coldly, slowly withdrawing his hand.

As his words fell, the wild boar mask on the burly man's face blazed with runes, then shattered with a "bang," turning into powder and dissipating into the air.

Beneath the mask was revealed a hideous face with eyes wide open and mouth agape. It seemed that even in death, he could not believe that he couldn't withstand even a single blow and was killed in an instant.