055 True Flame of the Qian Blaze

Senior Brother Zhou gazed at the blood-red halo behind Pang Yue and the dozens of figures swirling within it. His eyes grew even colder when he caught sight of the Chen cultivator from the True Sun Sect. He halted a hundred yards from Pang Yue, standing suspended in midair.

“Hand over the Ice Soul Snow Lotus and the True Lunar Flame, and I’ll spare your corpse from mutilation!”

The man before him was shrouded in demonic energy—it was obvious at a glance that he was a dregs of the Demonic Path, a practitioner of forbidden arts. Were it not for concerns that he might destroy the saintly Ice Soul Snow Lotus...

A mere fifth-level Foundation Establishment cultivator was nothing in Zhou Wuchou’s eyes. If he could obtain the legendary Ice Soul Snow Lotus and the seed of the True Lunar Flame, he might achieve perfection in his foundation within ten years and lay a solid groundwork for advancing to the Golden Core realm.

Pang Yue studied him, eyes flickering. “You’re from the True Sun Sect?”

Within Pang Yue, the True Lunar Flame burned quietly, sensing another genuine flame in his opponent’s body. He wondered to which of the Seven Great True Flames it belonged.

Zhou Wuchou snorted, sweeping his hand. A ball of scarlet fire shot out, breaking through the air with a thunderous roar.

Pang Yue tilted his head slightly, and a streak of blazing smoke brushed past his ear. The flames within the smoke were so fierce that his protective aura barely withstood them for an instant.

The True Sun Sect’s “Great Sun True Flame Art” was a formidable technique, no less potent than the Demonic Sigil Sect’s “Chaos Arcane Demonic Sigil Manual.”

The streak of smoke, having missed, left behind a dazzling rainbow trail, looping through the sky before circling back toward him.

Unperturbed, Pang Yue flicked his finger. The Flame Demon Immortal-Slaying Sword transformed into a red-and-white arc, clashing with the smoking arrow mid-air.

A crisp clang rang out. Much of the smoke dissipated, revealing a five-inch-long, dark-purple, lustrous arrow, its tail ablaze with searing scarlet fire that hissed and crackled as it shot through the air.

It was a supreme-grade magical artifact.

Pang Yue’s gaze lingered on the scarlet fire at the arrow’s tail, a sense of familiarity striking him. He had seen all Seven Great True Flames in the Flame Demon Hall—he immediately recognized this one.

The Dry Yang True Flame—the most yang of all flames in existence!

At that moment, another arrow silently approached from behind.

With his spiritual sense enveloping the area and his mind as keen as a sword, Pang Yue could hardly be caught unawares. He smiled faintly, summoning a crimson-gold sigil sword to intercept the arrow.

The crimson-gold sigil sword, having been refined to the fourth-turn level and empowered by the True Lunar Flame, was the equal of a supreme-grade artifact.

A hint of surprise appeared on Zhou Wuchou’s face, his eyes growing even colder. Suddenly, dozens of bright lights appeared around Pang Yue—arrows emerging silently from all directions, each trailing thick clouds of smoke and rainbow light, brimming with murderous intent.

With a single glance, Pang Yue counted exactly nineteen arrows, all supreme-grade magical artifacts.

Each one was imbued with the Dry Yang True Flame.

Without further delay, Zhou Wuchou pointed, and the fiery arrows shot forth together, screaming through the air, trailing billows of smoke behind them—a truly fearsome display.

“You must be a true disciple of the True Sun Sect!” Pang Yue laughed, releasing the remaining seventeen crimson-gold sigil swords. Each transformed into a ten-foot arc, clashing with the flying arrows.

As he suspected, no ordinary cultivator possessed such resources—to refine nineteen identical supreme-grade artifacts in one go! Most foundation cultivators would be proud to own even one.

Though Zhou Wuchou’s Smoke Arrows were immensely powerful, they lacked agility, falling short of the flying swords of someone with perfect sword-mind clarity. However, Zhou Wuchou’s raw magical power exceeded Pang Yue’s by a fair margin.

Thus, Pang Yue’s Flame Demon Immortal-Slaying Sword and the eighteen sigil swords just managed to hold their own.

Zhou Wuchou finally looked serious, no longer underestimating his opponent. In all his years, he had never met a fifth-level Foundation Establishment cultivator who could withstand his nineteen Dry Yang Smoke Arrows.

With a cold shout, Zhou Wuchou summoned a massive halberd, stamping his foot in midair as if treading solid ground.

Boom!

The void exploded. Zhou Wuchou streaked forward in a flash of light, closing the distance with Pang Yue.

Around them, the sky was thick with flying arrows and sigil swords, clashing and entangling without end. But inside the ring, the battle was to the death.

“If you’re so bent on dying, don’t blame me for being merciless!” Pang Yue’s figure flickered and vanished.

Zhou Wuchou’s expression shifted. His spiritual sense swept the area dozens of times in the blink of an eye but found nothing.

Suddenly, he sensed something before him. He swept the halberd in a wide arc, but struck only empty air.

The next instant, an invisible sword light appeared before his face. Appalled, Zhou Wuchou could not see the blade, but its razor-sharp edge was undeniable.

The sword light flashed, curling around his neck before fading away.

His six-yang head toppled to the ground.

Not far away, Pang Yue revealed himself. Within the blood-red halo behind him, another figure appeared.

With a wave of his hand, he gathered the myriad Dry Yang Smoke Arrows and Zhou Wuchou’s corpse, then picked the saintly Ice Soul Snow Lotus.

Just as he was about to leave, the blood-red halo wavered, and three more figures appeared.

Pang Yue: “……”

Speechless, he took out a Celestial Dust Pill, sat cross-legged, and began to recover. The recent contest had drained his magical power considerably.

…

Third Buddha Cave.

A man with an iron-hard face stood at the entrance to a cavern, his voice cold. “Guard this place. Kill anyone who tries to leave!”

Behind him, nine disciples in Heavenly Sea Sect robes answered in unison.

Just two incense sticks ago, three Heavenly Sea Sect cultivators had met disaster while picking snow lotuses. He and his fellow disciples had watched helplessly as their three brothers were burned alive, their powers and souls consumed by an eerie, chilling flame.

The man tossed an array scroll to his companions and flew into the cavern in a streak of light.

At the same time, on the surface, a group of five arrived at a crack in the earth.

The leader, dignified and handsome, was Meng Zitao of the Wind Demon Hall, Demonic Sigil Sect.

All five eyed the crack, sensing the astonishing spiritual energy within, their hearts stirred.

At their head was Hong Ren, the lead true disciple for this mission from Wind Demon Hall.

Hong Ren, appearing in his sixties, wore a blue robe, exuding an immortal’s grace and a foundation so complete that his presence flowed smoothly and unimpeded.

Meng Zitao said, “Brother Hong, we still have some time before the three-day deadline. Why not go in and take a look?”

Hong Ren stroked his beard, sensing the surroundings. “It seems a few groups have already gone in. Perhaps we’d be better off waiting here, letting them fight it out, and swooping in to reap the rewards.”

Meng Zitao shook his head, unconvinced. “But what if there’s another exit? Wouldn’t we be waiting for nothing? Besides, with our group complete and you here, Brother Hong, even if we run into a heaven-grade opponent, we’d have the strength to fight!”

He waved his feather fan as he spoke.

Hong Ren glanced at the fan and smiled serenely. “If you’ll lend me the Samadhi Divine Wind Fan, Brother Meng, I’ll have nothing to fear in this secret realm.”

Meng Zitao beamed, handing over the fan. “That’s all I wanted to hear, Brother Hong!”

As a true disciple with a perfected foundation, Hong Ren was already ranked at earth-grade among foundation cultivators. With a first-grade treasure in hand, he’d ascend to the heaven-grade, among the handful considered invincible below the Golden Core stage.

Hong Ren’s eyes flickered with a trace of greed as he accepted the fan. This feather fan was a first-grade treasure, personally crafted by a Wind Demon Hall elder, containing the Samadhi Divine Wind—its power rivaled that of a Golden Core cultivator.

“Before we go in, we should set up a formation here…”

The five conferred briefly, skillfully laying a vicious formation before sauntering into the cave.