Chapter 128: The Ancient Tree Spirit Named Crimson Flame

The giant sword manifested from demonic energy possessed immense power, yet it had the misfortune of facing Chi Yan. As one of the world's eight ancestral trees—the Spark Silver Flower—Chi Yan’s greatest trait was his immunity to fire, with the exception of primordial karmic flames. Furthermore, he could command all the flora of the world to do his bidding. It is common knowledge that wood possesses a natural resilience; using the flexibility of branches to deflect the brute force of sword energy was a truly brilliant tactic.

Consequently, after struggling amidst the thicket for some time, the demonic giant sword could not advance even an inch, and even retreating became impossible. Despite this, Nalan found himself trapped in a precarious position. He continued to pour a steady stream of demonic energy into the blade, clearly intent on a war of attrition, hoping to outlast his opponent. However, he lacked sufficient combat experience; manifesting a weapon through demonic energy is an incredibly draining endeavor.

As for his opponent? Chi Yan was an ancient tree spirit. Commanding the surrounding forest to attack required virtually no effort at all. With over ten thousand years of cultivation, he could have toyed with three Nalans simultaneously. By attempting to engage in a battle of raw power, Nalan was effectively choosing his own demise.

Of course, this was not entirely Nalan's fault. Before he was born, the demon race had been imprisoned by the Heavenly Emperor within the Pimu Earth Mound. Raised in the luxury of the Demon Saint Palace, Nalan had never traveled the wild realms and thus lacked meaningful combat experience. Moreover, under the shadow of his father, Hanbi’s, formidable reputation, no demon soldier dared to engage him in a real spar. Encountering an ancient, malevolent force like Chi Yan upon arriving in the Southern Wilderness meant he was bound to suffer.

Initially, relying on his deep cultivation, Nalan managed to hold his ground. Though unable to defeat his opponent, he avoided immediate collapse. But after a quarter-hour of stalemate, his demonic energy began to wane. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, and he neared exhaustion. Chi Yan, meanwhile, remained as relaxed and smiling as before. What felt like a grueling battle to Nalan was, to Chi Yan, no more taxing than a leisurely stroll.

"Damn it, I must find a way to escape!" Realizing he was outmatched, Nalan began to plot his retreat.

"Brother, I am here to help!"

Following Nalan's desperate thought, the crisp, delicate voice of his younger sister, Qingluo, rang out from the forest. Overjoyed, Nalan shouted, "Sister, let us join forces to slay this thief who seeks to seize the Fire Lotus!"

As the words left his lips, Qingluo appeared, clad in a green dress. She brandished her sword, her form transforming into a whirlwind as she lunged at Chi Yan’s back. Chi Yan had believed victory was within his grasp, but just as he was about to prevail, a young maiden appeared—one whose technique and power seemed to surpass Nalan’s.

Although Chi Yan was confident in his abilities, he remembered how his eight brothers, alongside the Evil King, had besieged Fan Sheng only days prior. That victory had been marred by their arrogance, which had led to the death of their eldest brother, Jianli. Having learned from that mistake, Chi Yan refused to meet the girl’s strike head-on. Before the wind of her blade could touch him, he flickered agilely and vanished into thin air before their eyes.

Qingluo’s full-force strike missed its mark but shattered the branches restraining Nalan. Freed, Nalan retracted the giant sword of demonic energy back into his body.

"Qingluo, thank goodness you arrived in time, or that vile Chi Yan would have killed me!" Nalan exclaimed, his heart still pounding.

"Do not celebrate yet; he has not gone far," Qingluo warned, her brow furrowed in vigilance as her keen eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for the vanished Chi Yan.

Reminded by his sister, Nalan hurriedly gripped his own weapon, a hook-sword. Standing back-to-back, the two nervously kept watch for the enemy.

Meanwhile, after leaving Fuxi Village, Bai Mu and his avian companion had set off once more toward the Ancient Cave of Red Flame in the Southern Wilderness. Fortunately, Bi Fang was well-traveled; in his thousand years of cultivation, he had once wandered near the cave. However, due to his long-standing animosity with the fire-birds within, he had never ventured inside. Returning to the site with Bai Mu stirred memories, and as they flew, Bi Fang rambled on about his bittersweet past. Thanks to the guidance of the experienced Bi Fang, the journey remained uneventful. By the time they reached the foothills of the Red Flame Mountain, it was already late morning.

"Caw... caw-caw..."

The cries of eagles echoed from the clouds ahead, sounding urgent.

"Chirp, chirp, chirp..."

Beyond that, a few weak, high-pitched bird calls drifted from the clouds as well. Hearing this, Bai Mu grew concerned. "It seems something is happening behind that cloud bank. Should we go around?"

"No need!" Bi Fang replied nonchalantly. "We are already above the Red Flame Mountain. I will descend soon; you can head up the mountain to gather the fire lotus, and I will wait for you at the base."

"You aren't coming with me..."

Before Bai Mu could finish, a tiny golden bird, no larger than an adult’s palm, darted out from the seemingly peaceful clouds, shrieking as it flew toward them. Behind it, seven or eight massive eagles gave chase. Their talons, over ten centimeters long, glistened with a sinister, oily black sheen under the sunlight.

"Chirp, chirp..."

With three panicked cries, the golden bird flew to within ten meters of Bai Mu. The eagles lunged with claws extended, ready to crush the frail creature at any moment.

"Bi Fang, quickly, save it!" Bai Mu urged, his eyes fixed on the adorable bird.

"Save it yourself if you want to. I have no such benevolence," Bi Fang retorted dismissively, remaining suspended in the air without the slightest intention of intervening.