Chapter Thirty-Six: The Rainbow-Scaled Serpent King!

Scarlet blood dripped from his fingernails, staining the green grass below. In the very instant the grass was marked with blood, two rainbow-colored serpent heads fell to the earth, and the bodies of those two snakes slammed fiercely into Zhao Fan’s face. The impact was so violent that his face swelled instantly. Knocked back several steps, his face was covered in blood, and his expression was frozen with terror.

As Zhao Fan stood there, stunned, he heard Wang Fan’s voice beside him, “Zhao Fan, let me handle it from here. These venomous snakes are far too dangerous for you. If I hadn't reacted just now, you would have been lost to the underworld by now!”

Wang Fan’s words were blunt, leaving no room for subtlety. Hearing this, Zhao Fan’s expression stiffened. The memory of his brush with death replayed vividly in his mind. The danger was real and immediate; if it hadn’t been for Wang Fan’s timely intervention, he would already be dead.

He retreated several paces, merging back into the crowd. As his nerves gradually settled, his gaze toward Wang Fan changed completely. Where once he had regarded Wang Fan as merely a collaborator, now he saw him as a goal—a future to strive for.

In his heart, Zhao Fan swore that from this day forward, he would train diligently and never allow himself to be left behind by Wang Fan.

While Zhao Fan was lost in thought, Wang Fan, now freed from the burden of protecting him, unleashed his full force. He was a true killer, his fingernails as sharp as blades, and every rainbow serpent that encircled him was turned into a lifeless corpse.

Within the span of just two minutes, every attacking serpent had been slain. Each one harbored a venom sac filled with deadly poison—poison so lethal that even Wang Fan, with his perfected physique, might not survive if it entered his body.

After the massacre, dozens of cultivators looked at Wang Fan with awe and disbelief. No one had expected his strength to be so overwhelming. At first, everyone thought Wang Fan was doomed—facing dozens of rainbow serpents alone was a death sentence. But now they realized the death sentence had not been for Wang Fan, but for the serpents themselves.

Having dispatched all the rainbow serpents, Wang Fan did not relax as the other cultivators did. Instead, his expression grew grave. His soul had reached the first level of perfection, enhancing his sensitivity to danger. Now he could sense a peril that hovered close, not from the slain serpents or the cultivators behind him, but from the surroundings themselves.

A chill ran through his body. What could it be, to make even him feel such dread?

Wang Fan scanned the land in all directions, but saw only bloody corpses and grass—nothing else. If the threat wasn’t on the ground, then could it be—?

His thoughts shifted instantly. He looked up, and with eyes as keen as an eagle’s, he spotted a serpent leaping from a colossal tree nearby. This serpent, rainbow-hued and seven or eight meters long, was as thick as several barrels bundled together, and on its brow gleamed a massive, crown-like crest.

The Rainbow Serpent King!

Locking onto the enormous serpent descending upon him, Wang Fan’s pupils contracted. He shouted, “Fall back! Everyone, fall back!”

Even as he roared, Wang Fan channeled the power of the Night’s Essence within him, merging seamlessly into the darkness. His body vanished into the night, using the assassination footwork of the Earth Fiend technique to retreat at lightning speed.

Wang Fan’s sudden concealment, coupled with his shouted warning, prompted Zhao Fan and his bodyguards to withdraw instantly. Others, heeding Wang Fan’s command, also pulled back. Only seven or eight remained, choosing to ignore his warning, believing the snake crisis had already passed and that Wang Fan’s shout was meaningless.

They were wrong. In the next moment, a wave of dread swept over them. Danger crashed down upon them, and though they tried to flee, it was already too late. A colossal shadow plummeted from above, and with a single sweep of its mighty tail, all eight were sent hurtling through the air, coughing blood.

Their chests caved in; even as cultivators, survival was impossible. As they flew backward, regret flickered in their eyes—they should have listened to the man in the hat.

Had they done so, they might have avoided this fate.

The eight fell heavily to the earth, landing more than a dozen meters away. Where Wang Fan and the others had just stood, mist now drifted in the air, the grass was shattered, and the sound of a giant serpent flicking its tongue echoed.

Then a gust of wind rose, sweeping the mist away and revealing the Serpent King in all its terrifying splendor—seven or eight meters long, as thick as three or four barrels, crowned with a multicolored crest. Compared to the smaller serpents, it was a creature of monstrous proportions.

Everyone who saw it drew in a sharp breath. There was no doubt—this was the Serpent King.

If the fledgling serpents could kill in seconds with their venom, what horrors must the Serpent King’s poison hold? It would surely mean instant death.

Terror gripped them—not just at the sight of its size, but at the overwhelming aura it exuded. They could feel its power: it stood above all, as if it had cultivated a force beyond the first extraordinary realm.

Unable to move, the onlookers stood frozen with fear.

Zhao Fan, who had previously stood beside Wang Fan in battle, could barely hold his gun now; his legs were trembling uncontrollably. In truth, this was not unique to him. His bodyguards and the other cultivators were all equally stricken—there were almost no exceptions.

Except, perhaps, for one.

Wang Fan alone was different. Staring at the fully revealed Serpent King, an unquenchable fighting spirit blazed within him, an irrepressible desire for battle.