"Master," the kappa said, stepping forward and kneeling in reverent homage, its head touching the ground.

"Why so slow?" The handsome man's brows knit slightly. In times past he would surely have punished the kappa severely, but today was a special day, and he was in a rare mood for magnanimity. "Come," he ordered, "nourish my Holy Water Pearl and let us all behold a wonder."

As he spoke, the handsome man drew a water pearl from his robe. Yet this pearl was not merely far larger than the one Wei Zhao possessed—the radiance it gave off was wholly different. Wei Zhao's had been but clear, transparent refraction, while this one shed of itself a certain indescribable, mysterious, sacred luster that made one instinctively wish to fall to one's knees in worship.

Its only flaw was a shallow crack running through it, which dulled its brilliance considerably; otherwise it would have been far more sacred and majestic still.

"Yes, Master." The kappa received the Holy Water Pearl from his hand with the utmost reverence and began to nourish it with the innate gift of the kappa clan. The principle was much like its art of formless entry into water—wrapping the Holy Water Pearl in a thin film of water—save that this film was swiftly absorbed entirely by the pearl, so it had to channel its power without pause until its strength was utterly spent.

"Hm? Have you not another water pearl? Just feed that to the Holy Water Pearl—why go to such trouble?" The handsome man frowned again. The Holy Water Pearl could absorb an ordinary water pearl whole; though that would not mend the crack, it would at least bring the pearl to dazzling brilliance in the shortest possible time. That was precisely why he had summoned the kappa.

At this the kappa's heart lurched in panic, and it stammered, "Reporting to Master, that pearl ran into a bit of trouble not long ago and must be carefully tended before it can be used."

"Useless wretch! You cannot even manage this trifle!" The handsome man's face darkened. "When this is done, take a hundred lashes yourself!" he snorted.

"Yes! Thank you, Master, for the punishment!" the kappa answered hurriedly.

Under the kappa's desperate exertions, the Holy Water Pearl's sacred radiance slowly intensified. At first the many spirit beasts, great and small, paid it little mind, but once that radiance had enveloped the whole gathering, every beast fell silent, their gazes all drawn to the Holy Water Pearl as one—and not one could tear itself away.

Then suddenly an incongruous voice rang out: "Oh? Flaunting your treasures again, are we?"

The assembled spirit beasts started in alarm. Who at such a time, in such a place, would dare speak in so flippant a tone? Did they have a death wish?

They turned to look, and what met their eyes was a plump, pale, tender grub of a worm—only this worm was exceedingly bizarre. From its back sprouted a pair of wings, the signature pinions of the ancient Goumang clan, and it came sweeping through the air with utter recklessness.

By the long-standing custom of the spirit beast world, unless prior notice was given, skimming low over another's head was tantamount to open provocation—and at so important a banquet as this, such conduct was simply courting death.

"Whence comes this worm, to dare trespass upon Lord Protector's wedding feast!" A black ape with three horns upon its head leapt up at once. Here was a rare chance to shine; though Lord Protector had gathered them all under the pretext of his grand wedding, with so many spirit beasts of every size thrown together, there would surely be a reckoning of who stood high and who low, who was strong and who weak. With strength comparable to the Golden Core stage, it was hardly content to sit idle, and had been lamenting the lack of an opportunity to show its face—when lo, this witless worm delivered itself to its door.

In appearance, the three-horned ape cut a far more imposing and domineering figure than the worm. The dense, fierce aura about it kept all others at a distance, and the tips of its three horns glinted with biting cold—each horn tip gathering a different element, water, fire, and wind, all blended and fused together into a devastating Tri-Phase Horn Strike!

That blow carried a might at least comparable to the late Golden Core stage!

Against any other spirit beast present, the three-horned ape's strike would have driven them into full retreat; even those stronger than it would have had to think twice—after all, the Tri-Phase Horn Strike was no idle boast. Alas, this time it faced the Brain-Eating Worm.

The Brain-Eating Worm did not even glance at it. Only when the blow was about to land did a savage, razor-sharp claw suddenly manifest upon its body—and then, paying the Tri-Phase Horn Strike no heed whatsoever, it met the ape head-on and crushed it in a single grasp.

Crack! With the sound of shattering bone, the three horns the ape had prided itself on were snapped clean off before its very face. Nor was that all—its skull was smashed to a pulp along with them, and in an instant it became a corpse, not a piece of it whole.

A deathly silence fell over the hall. Every spirit beast, without exception, wore a look of slack-jawed stupefaction. What had just happened had come far too suddenly, far too unexpectedly; for a moment they simply could not take it in. Just what manner of divinity was this worm?!

In the blink of an eye the Brain-Eating Worm had swept up to the high platform at the center, and the claw it had just grown shot without hesitation toward the kappa. Its target, of course, was not the kappa, but the Holy Water Pearl in the kappa's hands.

It wanted the Holy Water Pearl, and with the kappa's meager strength there was no thought of resistance—but the obstacle it must face was not the kappa. It was the master behind the kappa.

In the end the Brain-Eating Worm's savage claw was stopped by a fair, slender palm. There was no startling surge of force, no shockwave—the two seemed merely to have touched palms lightly, and then each retreated a full step.

"Tsk, tsk. As expected of Lord Protector—to dissolve my attack with such gentle ease. I am in awe, truly in awe," the Brain-Eating Worm offered, with not a shred of sincerity.

"The compliment is mutual. Lord Envoy is no slouch either—to retain such strength after centuries of slumber truly opens my eyes," the handsome man said, a placid, unruffled smile upon his face.

The moment the words fell, another uproar swept the hall. Only now did the assembled spirit beasts finally grasp the worm's identity—it was none other than Lord Envoy, who had lain in slumber for several hundred years!

Not that their wits were slow. The Brain-Eating Worm had always come and gone like a ghost; spirit beasts who had truly seen its august countenance were few and far between. Add to that its complex, ever-shifting forms and its habit of sleeping away centuries at a stretch, and a moment's failure to recognize it was only natural.

That said, they could not help but feel a touch of pity for the three-horned ape. To strike at the legendary Lord Envoy without so much as a question—it deserved its wretched death. After all, this was the Brain-Eating Worm, a being whose station and strength alike put it on equal footing with Lord Protector himself! (To be continued.)