Chapter 78: The Sea of Flames Surges

Flame Mountain lay a dozen miles from where Zhou Qian stood. Its fires surged and roared from base to summit, staining the sky a blood-red hue. The only path through the mountains was a single, winding trail; there was no other way forward.

The four of them sped along this narrow path. One of them reminded the group, “There are three dangers here. At the start, wild beasts will dash out—do not let their flames touch you; they cannot be extinguished. In the middle, there’s a river of molten lava. The tide there rises and falls like the ocean; every half hour, a wave of lava sweeps across the path. Most terrifying of all are the demon beasts on the mountain. Their bodies are massive and their movements swift as lightning. Some, steeped in cultivation, can even ride the clouds! If you meet one, there’s no escape. Their numbers are few though—let’s hope fortune favors us.”

From the burning forests on either side, fiery beasts occasionally burst forth. Fortunately, they were of common breeds, and so long as the four were wary of the flames upon their bodies, they managed. In less than the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, they reached the river of lava. The tide was rising, and a wave of heat crashed against them. Quickly, they stripped off their outer garments, sweat pouring down like rain. “We’re unlucky,” someone said. “Looks like we’ll be waiting here half an hour.”

Even as he spoke, Zhou Qian felt a sudden heat in his bosom. He hastily took out the item—it was the Fire-Severing Pearl.

Once dull and lifeless, the pearl now seemed to surge with vitality, like a dragon returning to the sea or a pauper discovering treasure. Its red light swelled to cover a ten-yard radius, drawing to it countless flames and wisps of burning energy, as if summoned. Zhou Qian could hardly restrain it; as he raised his hand, the pearl flew up of its own accord and began to draw in the surrounding flames like a river into the sea. The pearl, a bottomless abyss, absorbed all that came. Its surface began to gleam with an indescribable luster.

“Young Master Zhou, where did you get such a treasure?” the Iron Saberman gaped in astonishment.

“It was found in the First Emperor’s tomb. Thanks to it, it’s much cooler now,” Zhou Qian murmured.

With the heat gone, a cool breeze blew, refreshing them all.

“Isn’t this a bit excessive?” someone muttered, concerned.

The red glow of the Fire-Severing Pearl gradually spread to a hundred yards, drawing in the flames ever faster. After a short while, a fiery sphere ten yards across hovered in the air, its surface roiling and roaring with flame—a truly terrifying sight.

‘What if it falls?’ The four grew anxious.

Suddenly, the earth began to tremble. From forest and burrow, from tree and ground, a horde of birds, beasts, insects, and snakes burst forth, crowding the path and roaring at the “red sun” as if it were a mortal enemy.

“These spirit beasts are born of fire. Now that the source has been taken, they won’t let it go easily,” someone warned.

Yet the Fire-Severing Pearl acted first. Sixteen golden iron chains burst from the fireball, etched with strange runes. A searing heat welled up from within the four onlookers. The chains, each a hundred yards long, seemed almost sentient. With a sweep, they snared thirty or forty beasts, dragging them into the fireball, where all went silent. The chains writhed and churned like demons dancing or gods descending in wrath. The captured beasts howled and struggled in vain.

“What devilry is this?!” the Iron Saberman was astounded.

“The Divine Chains of Beasts, forged from the Xuan-Yang Blazing Fire…” someone whispered.

“Hm? Zhou, what did you just say?”

Zhou Qian started, shook his head, “Nothing.” Yet his heart was pounding. The words had come unbidden, as if he’d always known the chains’ name. Was there some connection between him and this Fire-Severing Pearl?

He had no way of knowing. The Fire-Severing Pearl was a supreme treasure, bearing a trace of sentience. Born at the hour of the Fire Bird, Zhou Qian’s body carried a hint of Golden Crow yang energy. The pearl, sealed for three thousand years and now weakened, had been tamed by this energy after being carried close to his skin. It had grown attached to him; yet Zhou Qian, not being an immortal swordsman, could not wield its full power.

The chains swept out again and again, capturing countless flaming beasts. Even the tide of magma seemed to recede, dropping by half in a short time. With a little luck, the tide would soon fall and they could cross.

Good news abounded, but the rampaging beasts still brought the four plenty of trouble. Zhou Qian pulled his Ghostmaster Sword from the body of a flaming python, sighing, “If this keeps up, my sword of cold iron will melt into a puddle.”

The Iron Saberman, brandishing only a hilt, consoled him, “It’s all illusory. Once you enter the Gate of Kai, your sword and blade will be restored. No need to fret.”

Just then, a mournful trumpet sounded from ahead. A colossal figure lumbered into view, barely fitting on the narrow path. Its trunk spewed sparks, its whole body wreathed in flame, terrifying as it barreled forward. Behind them, the river of lava blocked any retreat.

“That beast’s going to crush us—what do we do?” someone stammered.

“Just our luck. Looks like we’ll have to try the Gate of Li again,” the Iron Saberman muttered, unwilling.

“Let me try,” Zhou Qian said, not hoping for much but willing to try anything.

He gripped the Ghostmaster Sword in both hands, exhaled, closed his eyes. His heart pounded, blood surged. A wave of heat rose in the other three as well—not ordinary heat, but a fire from within, agitating, maddening, hard to endure.

“Is this the yang energy formed after condensing the elixir?” he murmured.

Suddenly, the heat vanished, replaced by a razor-sharp sword intent, murderous and fierce. Zhou Qian’s eyes blazed like prison fires, their gaze sharp as swords.

He stepped forward, opened his mouth, and bellowed, “Moo—!” The sound struck the heart like a bolt of lightning.

“Moo—!” The second cry was like a drum, leaving the mind blank.

“Moo—!” With the third, his blood and yang burst forth, as if his heart would leap from his chest.

Sword intent exploded. The Ghostmaster Sword flashed from its sheath, cleaving with such speed it seemed to cross time and space. The flaming giant elephant, more than ten yards away, toppled, dead before it hit the ground.

“A monster? A god? A sword immortal?” the Iron Saberman stammered.

“Sword aura? Sword intent? Why couldn’t I see the sword itself?” Cold sweat beaded on their foreheads.

Li Guangzhi had but one thought: ‘This boy is of the immortal path? Then why did he play the fool before? If he’s of the immortal path, he’s worthy of my granddaughter after all!’ Clearly, his scheming heart was not yet stilled.

Not far off, Zhou Qian wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled in relief. “Lucky I scared it to death!” he said.

“Scared it to death?!”

“Naturally. Otherwise, how could I have killed it from over ten yards away?” Zhou Qian replied matter-of-factly. Seeing the others’ astonishment, he asked, “What did you think?”

“Killing unseen—only sword immortals can do that with flying swords or sword energy, right?” one asked, frowning.

“It wasn’t me who killed it,” Zhou Qian shook his head. “Don’t you know elephants are the most timid of beasts?”

“So what?”

“I stirred its blood, shook its spirit with three roars, then drew my sword. I didn’t kill it—it thought my sword would kill it, and so it died of its own fear,” Zhou Qian said indifferently.

“Just like that?” They found it hard to believe.

“To kill unseen—there’s no such technique in this world. Tales of it in the martial world are just the excuses of cowards. What mystery? It’s just scaring yourself. Mastery in the martial path comes from practice, sweat, and effort. That’s the truth.”

“And if you had failed?” the Iron Saberman asked, incredulous.

“Then we’d have to try the Gate of Li again,” Zhou Qian answered carelessly. “Might as well try something instead of nothing.”

The Iron Saberman was speechless.

“It’s so simple it’s hard to believe!” He sighed. “No matter—have you truly condensed your elixir?”

Zhou Qian nodded, sighing. “It seems my ‘Biographies of Twenty-Seven Heroes of the Jianghu’ will need a new chapter: the Young Sword Immortal.”

Overhead, the fireball formed by the Fire-Severing Pearl had absorbed enough beast souls. Satisfied at last, the sixteen divine chains withdrew, and the fireball collapsed inward until only an egg-sized Fire-Severing Pearl remained, spinning in the air. With a ‘whoosh,’ it shot into Zhou Qian’s hand. Warm energy radiated from it; Zhou Qian sensed its joy, as if it were sated and content.

Without time to dwell on this, the four hurried on toward the volcano. The way was uneventful, and after a long trek, they reached the mountain’s base.

Flame Mountain was barren—no grass or tree survived. The rocks ran molten, heat waves shimmered, and the place looked like a giant covered in festering sores.

“Hurry! If we meet a demon beast now, all will be lost!” someone urged, deadly serious.

On hands and knees, they scrambled up the slope. Before long, they had reached halfway when the Fire-Severing Pearl again began to glow red.

“Is it trying to absorb more flames?” Li Guangzhi’s face changed.

“No,” Zhou Qian replied, puzzled. “It feels like it’s warning me of something, but there’s nothing suspicious nearby…”

“Whatever the case, we must climb faster!”

Exerting all their strength, the four pressed upward, holding their breath as the air thickened with smoke and poisonous fumes, enough to make the head spin and the stomach churn.

Just as they neared the crater’s rim, a monster dropped from the sky, its blood-red eyes fixing on them.

“A dragon!” someone cried out.

“It’s a Fire Jiao,” Zhou Qian said grimly.

From the “Book of Strange Beasts,” entry twenty-seven: the Jiao, a kin of the dragon, hornless; the Fire Jiao, a subspecies skilled in fire, grows a hundred yards long and three wide upon maturity, possesses a Jiao Pearl, and after three thousand years may transform into a dragon.

There was no doubt—this was an adult Fire Jiao spirit. Though it lacked a Jiao Pearl, it still regarded the four as mere ants.

“Run! Scatter! Every man for himself!” Li Guangzhi roared decisively.

The Fire Jiao’s massive eyes locked coldly on Zhou Qian—or more precisely, on the Fire-Severing Pearl in his arms.