Chapter 83: Earth Fire

The alchemy apprentices and the Qian family disciples clashed, and the scene grew chaotic for a moment.

In Xiancheng, generally, a Qi Condensation cultivator at the mid-stage—around level five or six—could learn offensive Dao techniques.

Dao techniques used for combat by cultivators fall into two categories: one is martial Dao arts learned by body cultivators, the other is spell-based Dao arts learned by spirit cultivators.

Body cultivators focus on refining the body, channeling spiritual energy through a robust physical form for close-range attacks; spirit cultivators specialize in spells, using spiritual awareness to condense spiritual energy into spells for long-range casting.

There are also cultivators who practice both spirit and body, but such cultivators require two extraordinary conditions:

First, exceptional talent, including a top-grade spiritual root and outstanding body-refining potential; second, a prestigious family background, with profound Daoist lineage capable of resolving conflicts between body and spirit cultivation methods, and ideally, several spiritual ore veins at home—so much spirit stone that they could never run out…

Spirit-body dual cultivation is beyond the reach of the vast majority of cultivators; even some great clans go generations without producing a single candidate, let alone a remote place like Xiancheng.

Whether it's a lone cultivator or one from a small clan, they can only choose one path: either focus on body refinement to become a body cultivator, or focus on spells to become a spirit cultivator.

The advantages of Qi Condensation body cultivators far outweigh those of spirit cultivators; unless one is born with an exceptionally poor physique—like Mo Hua—everyone chooses the body refinement path to become a body cultivator.

Thus, the current battle was essentially a brawl among body cultivators.

A few Qian family disciples were spirit cultivators, but before they could cast their spells, opponents rushed in and knocked them down with a single punch.

In battles between body cultivators, it's mostly fists and kicks, each blow landing hard on flesh, augmented by spiritual energy of different elements; every punch and palm strike was wreathed in colorful light, looking impressively stylish.

This was Mo Hua's first time witnessing such a large-scale cultivator battle; he stared, stunned. Only after half a minute did he remember he should do something.

What should he do?

After much thought, Mo Hua realized the only thing he could do was run!

With a group of body cultivators brawling, his small arms and legs were lucky to escape unharmed; not burdening anyone else was his greatest contribution!

Mo Hua prepared to flee, but after taking only a few steps, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He struggled, but couldn't break free; instead, a pair of icy hands clamped around his neck.

Mo Hua turned his head and saw Qian Xing staring at him coldly.

As if Mo Hua were his father's murderer.

"Stop!" Qian Xing shouted in a venomous tone.

Everyone halted, splitting into two sides. The Qian family disciples, nursing bruised arms and wiping blood, staggered behind Qian Xing, while Chen Dazhu and the others stood before him, facing them down.

Seeing this scene, Mo Hua's heart sank: "Damn it—the worst possible scenario has happened!"

Originally, Chen Dazhu's group had the upper hand, but now that he was captured, they were restrained, and the situation had turned dire.

Chen Dazhu looked at Qian Xing, expressionless: "Let him go! Or you're dead."

"Can't win in a fight, so you resort to dirty tricks? Coward!"

"If you've got guts, fight again…"

The alchemy apprentices also roared in anger.

Qian Xing sneered: "All you know is fighting and killing—you deserve to remain lowly your whole lives. I've already sent for help. When the family guards arrive, none of you will escape."

"What do you want?" Chen Dazhu barked.

"What do I want?" Qian Xing smiled, tightening his grip on Mo Hua's neck. "Don't worry—I won't kill him yet. Killing him would soil my hands. Though I'm not afraid of Dao Ting Si, I find the trouble unnecessary. I just need to take him up the mountain, hang him from a tree, lure a few beasts, and let them slowly eat his flesh alive—that's how I'll satisfy my hatred. Even if Dao Ting Si investigates, they can't blame me; he was eaten by beasts."

Chen Dazhu's eyes turned bloodshot with rage: "You bastard, you dare!"

"You dare call me a bastard? What are you?" Qian Xing laughed bitterly. "Fine. Then kneel before me, slap your own faces, and kill yourselves. I won't kill him. How's that? You love sticking your neck out? I'll give you the chance."

Qian Xing squeezed Mo Hua's neck and threatened: "Kneel! Or I kill him right now!"

Chen Dazhu and the others were at a loss, furious yet humiliated.

Mo Hua's eyes flashed with sharpness, his voice hoarse: "Qian Xing… don't push your luck!"

"Push my luck? I've been polite with you, spoke nicely, and you refused. Now it's come to this—and you blame me for pushing my luck?" Qian Xing said. "I've lost face today. Taking a few lives to restore it is perfectly reasonable, isn't it?"

Mo Hua's youthful voice carried a chilling edge:

"Then it's you who's asking for death!"

Qian Xing didn't get angry—he laughed: "You're just a Qi Condensation level four, can't even learn martial arts or spells—what can you possibly do to me? Saying I'm asking for death? Fine. Let's see how you—"

Before he finished, Qian Xing saw a stream of crimson ink splashing toward his face. In haste, he raised his right hand to block—but failed. Several streaks struck his eyes, seeping through his eyelids, instantly burning with searing pain.

It was fire-element spiritual ink used for painting arrays!

Enraged, Qian Xing endured the pain in his right eye and squeezed harder with his left hand, trying to strangle Mo Hua. But the momentary relaxation from his pain allowed Mo Hua to break free.

Qian Xing reached again to grab him, but Mo Hua, knowing he couldn't escape, spun and leapt, kicking Qian Xing in the chest.

Yet the kick landed with no effect—Qian Xing didn't budge, didn't even feel pain. Instead, the recoil sent Mo Hua flying backward.

Mo Hua used the force to retreat, finally crashing to the ground, rolling several times, then lying prone, clutching his head with both hands.

Seeing this, Qian Xing burst out laughing: "Now do you know who the worthless one is?"

He stepped forward, determined to grab Mo Hua before Chen Dazhu could intervene.

But as he took one step forward, Qian Xing suddenly felt a burning heat against his chest. He looked down and saw a piece of paper shoved into his robe—drawn on it were seven array patterns, painted in crimson ink, the red growing increasingly vivid, even glowing.

This… was an array?

Before Qian Xing could process it, a deafening roar erupted.

The array exploded.

Before Qian Xing, an intense surge of spiritual energy erupted without warning—hot, scorching, and agonizing—engulfing him completely.

His Dao robe turned instantly to ash; the spirit-protected breastplate on his chest cracked open. The searing blast wave surged over his face, burning it beyond recognition, and the explosion's shockwave hurled him backward, smashing through several stalls before he came to a stop.

The street fell utterly silent.

Several Qian family disciples, caught in the blast, lay writhing on the ground, moaning.

Chen Dazhu and the other cultivators stared in shock at Mo Hua, huddled on the ground, head covered, looking disheveled, and at Qian Xing, now a charred, unrecognizable mass on the other side—speechless.

The explosion's sound and spiritual surge also drew the attention of nearby cultivators; more and more were rushing toward the scene.