The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 588 - 612 Cultivators True Heart and
Chapter 588: Chapter 612 Cultivator’s True Heart and Knight’s Spirit Chapter 588: Chapter 612 Cultivator’s True Heart and Knight’s Spirit Lancelot felt the continuously changing pressure from the hilt, the result of the sword blade piercing through different tissues within the giant dragon’s body, finally embedding itself into a firm, rhythmically constricting organ. The white dragon’s limbs began to spasm violently and uncontrollably, but the human knight ignored the dragon claws swinging about before his eyes, gripping tightly onto the hilt, then with a forceful thrust, he twisted the hilt ninety degrees.
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The white dragon’s body stiffened suddenly, and then it was all over. The dragon soul had departed, leaving behind nothing but the corpse of a beast.
At that moment, the Cauldron Immortal Technique within Lancelot’s body started to operate on its own, as if triggered by something. All thirty-six of his major acupoints opened up, frantically absorbing the energy emanating from the corpse of the legendary creature before him.
However, bystanders couldn’t see any anomaly, only suddenly experiencing a bout of difficulty breathing. The strange occurrence came abruptly and dissipated just as quickly; in just a few breaths, the dragon corpse’s power was entirely absorbed. However, to Lancelot, this power still merely resided in the corners of his flesh, and fully refining and absorbing it would probably take some time.
“Look at this mess you’ve made, truly a disaster,”
No sooner had the white dragon fallen than a hoarse, icy voice, reminiscent of a reptilian creature, suddenly rang out from behind everyone. Lancelot turned around and saw the silhouette of a strange female humanoid creature. At first glance, one might easily mistake her for a succubus—antlers on her head, bat wings and a tail at her back, and adorned in a tight-fitting red leather suit that showcased her curvaceous and powerful figure.
But upon closer inspection, one would realize that the so-called leather suit was actually scales covering the skin’s surface, and the tail behind her was much thicker than the whip-like tail of a succubus.
More importantly, beneath the pair of backward-swept antlers on her head, there lay a cold, indifferent dragon face, one that belonged to a scaled reptilian creature.
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“Are you the red dragon that was imprisoned before?” Lancelot recognized the voice, “How did you get out by yourself?”
“Of course, one of your ‘companions’ let me out,”
The female half-dragon smiled slyly at him. Even with Lancelot’s composure, that smile jolted him enough to draw Glacier out, only to be splashed with dragon blood gushing from the wound, leaving him in a bedraggled state.
“Hehe, just like I said, you’ve made quite a mess,” the female half-dragon walked over to him, kicking the white dragon’s dead head with her foot, “But I enjoyed that scene very, very much, such a pity I couldn’t watch it for a bit longer…”
“We’re also new to this, not much experience,” Lancelot shrugged his shoulders, about to say something else when he suddenly looked upwards. Through his Spirit Perception, he sensed a terrifying presence rapidly approaching their location—the true master of the nest was finally returning!
“Run!” Lancelot shouted to his companions, “To Kalalin’s place!”
Although the others didn’t have the keen perception of the human Knight, everyone was very clear about what Lancelot was referring to and immediately ran towards the steps leading back to the terrace they came from. Bruto, still blessed with spells that allowed free movement and long strides, was able to run easily on the smooth glacier steps in his giant wolf state, and as for little Isha, there was even less to worry about—she was a Vampire with wings on her back.
“Don’t leave us!” A sudden chorus of different voices echoed in everyone’s minds, “Don’t throw us down!”
Lancelot turned his head and saw that the voices came from the other female Dragons trapped in the several large pits. Besides a White Dragon that had been frozen into an ice sculpture, there was one Blue Dragon, one Green Dragon, and one Black Dragon, each struggling violently within the confines of their chains and torture devices.
“Don’t care about their life or death,” said the freed Red Dragon person coldly to those who had stopped. “Svafnir will be here any moment, and this place will soon become a hell of frost and flames. Better run for your lives now.”
A very brief struggle arose in Lancelot’s heart. The fate of those female Dragons truly had nothing to do with him, and they were all colored Dragons with an innate tendency towards evil; as a Spiritual Cultivator, the bamboo slips he studied even emphasized repeatedly that Cultivators must have a heart as hard as steel, unbound by the moral codes and virtues of mundane society, holding onto only their true selves.
In other words, saving those female Dragons not only lacked any real benefit but also posed a risk to his own survival. According to the standards of Spiritual Cultivators, he should’ve turned around and left without hesitation, yet Lancelot couldn’t bring himself to do that. He had been brought up with Knightly education from a young age, which taught him to treat the weak kindly, to not fear authority, and to fight for the protection of the defenseless, extending a hand to ladies in distress.
Strictly speaking, female Dragons did not seem to fit the definition of ‘lady,’ but after coming to the Abyss, many definitions had acquired new meanings, and the knightly spirit that once served as a moral compass often appeared outdated, obsolete, and out of touch. Yet deep in his heart, Lancelot still adhered to the core of the knightly spirit: regardless of the environment he was in, no matter the difficulties encountered, he should uphold his sense of justice and not betray his conscience.
If it was said that Spiritual Cultivators should not be bound by worldly morals and only need to hold onto their true selves, then let the knightly spirit be his true self!
“You go on ahead!” Lancelot suddenly turned and ran toward the nearest large pit. “Wait for me in the passageway!”
His companions were stunned; the human Knight’s retreating figure seemed to possess a mysterious power that ignited a flame named ‘hero’ deep within their hearts. However, this flame was immediately extinguished by the sudden threat that appeared. At the top of the Dragon’s Nest, a figure twice the size of the adult White Dragon they had just seen appeared. Svafnir, the mount of the Prince of Wrath, had finally returned to its lair, though it took longer than last time.
It immediately saw the corpse of its son at the bottom of the nest and let out a roar as piercing as a bell. Everyone could clearly feel the rage contained in that roar, like the Grim Reaper screaming at you. Fear easily submerged everyone’s thoughts, driving them desperately to run up the steps, trying to get as far away from the enraged ancient White Dragon as possible.
But Lancelot resisted the terrifying majesty of the ancient White Dragon; his pace not only didn’t slow but also burst forth with astonishing speed. He instantly reached the edge of the large pit holding a Blue Dragon, his Great Sword glowing with a dazzling green light, and he struck with all his might at the chains that bound the Blue Dragon.
“Damn thief!” Svafnir’s mental assault swept through every corner of the Dragon’s Lair like a tempest, “Die!”
