Before Zhang Qi Shan could finish speaking, he suddenly grabbed Qilin’s hair and yanked it down forcefully. The pain made Qilin instinctively tilt his head back, but his reflexes were quick—his hand, which had been gripping Zhang Qi Shan’s collar, immediately shifted to seize his throat, while his other hand twisted Zhang Qi Shan’s wrist, wresting the black-gold blade from his grasp.
However, these instinctive combat techniques were meant for dealing with normal living humans. Against Zhang Qi Shan—a creature that was neither truly alive nor dead—strangling his throat or breaking his wrist had no effect on his vital points.
From Zhang Qi Shan’s spine, twelve monstrous centipedes sprouted, their legs clawing wildly as they coiled around Qilin, forcing his head even further back. Zhang Qi Shan’s face twisted into a sinister grin as he opened his maw wide and bit into Qilin’s exposed throat, greedily sucking the fresh, potent Qilin blood. As he drank, he could feel the dying embers of his existence reigniting with renewed vitality.
Qilin was completely immobilized, trapped in the suffocating grip of the twelve centipedes, his body unable to move. Blood and life force drained steadily from the wound on his neck. Yet, in his grip, he still held the black-gold blade—his father’s weapon, the sword of the Thirteenth Generation Zhang Qiling.
At the brink of death, a seemingly unrelated thought suddenly surfaced in Qilin’s mind.
Wan Bao once told me that Zhang Pei Shan claimed to have killed Zhang Qiling.
Just now, Zhang Qi Shan said that Zhang Qi Shan, Zhang Pei Shan, and Zhang Hai Xing were nothing more than discarded husks—human skins he had used to parasitically inhabit after transforming into this centipede-infested monster.
A moment ago, in the dark cavern, when I raised the black-gold blade to strike Zhang Hai Xing, the sword refused to cut him. No matter how much force I used, the blade would not fall.
The black-gold blade acknowledges its master, and it only forms a bond with those who carry the Qilin bloodline of successive Zhang Qilings. It is an inherent connection between the extraterrestrial meteorite from which the blade was forged and the unique bloodline of Zhang Qiling.
The Zhang family members outside the Bronze Gate all recognize my Qilin blood. They all know that only Zhang Qiling possesses such a lineage.
And now, Zhang Qi Shan is absorbing my Qilin blood.
Then why… does my father’s black-gold blade—now in the hands of Zhang Hai Xing (Zhang Qi Shan)—acknowledge him as its master? Did Zhang Qi Shan steal my father’s Qilin blood the same way he is doing now?
These thoughts flashed through Qilin’s mind in an instant. His grip on the black-gold blade tightened once more, and he silently murmured in his heart:
"Little Black-Gold, recognize who your true master is."
In a final surge of strength, Qilin raised the black-gold blade as high as he could, then drove it backward into Zhang Qi Shan’s spine—plunging it through both their bodies, impaling himself and Zhang Qi Shan together.
Qilin had been right—the centipedes all originated from Zhang Qi Shan’s spine, meaning that the spine was his greatest weak point.
Zhang Qi Shan let out a strangled, agonized whimper and released his grip on Qilin’s bloodied throat. His face contorted with fury as he spat through clenched teeth, “You reckless brat… If you don’t care about your own life, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”
His body suddenly expanded like an inflating balloon, swelling rapidly. His human skin split apart and peeled away completely, revealing a monstrous, grotesque centipede form. His twelve centipede limbs extended into sharp, writhing tendrils—eight of them pierced through Qilin’s body, impaling him like skewered meat and hoisting his wounded form into the air.
Two of the tendrils ripped the black-gold blade from Qilin’s chest and discarded it onto the ground. The last four limbs crawled along the floor, carrying Qilin’s limp body deeper into the Bronze Gate’s depths at alarming speed.
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