Chapter 460: Rescue

Eight hundred li of Flame Mountain stretched across the horizon, crimson sands churning, heat waves piled one upon another.

Since Su Chen took away the Six Ding Divine Fire, the place had lost its former fury that could burn the sky and boil the sea, but Flame Mountain was still Flame Mountain—magma surged within its belly, the stench of sulfur choking the throat.

Demon clouds settled on the peak; Bull Demon King held his iron cudgel, expressionless.

Jiao Wang stood to his left, his long halberd slanted toward the ground, his black robe snapping violently in the scorching wind.

Lion Camel King shouldered his great blade, long simmering with rage; had Su Chen not yet spoken, he would have stormed in already.

Su Chen stood behind the three, his blue robe fluttering in the crimson wind.

Ahead, Peng Demon King wore black-gold battle armor, shoulder guards like feathers, his black cloak dragging across the crimson sands.

In his hand, the Demon-Swallowing Spear hung slanted, its tip scraping rock and leaving a charred groove.

Behind him, the demons of the Demon Master’s Palace lined up in formation, each great demon standing around the volcanic mouth, their energies linked, clearly already arranged in battle array.

Old brothers reunited, no smiles, only blades drawn.

Lion Camel King glared at Peng Demon King, his chest heaving several times before he finally exploded:

“Peng the Third, do you even have a shred of shame?”

“Back when we swore brotherhood at Flower-Fruit Mountain, we bowed to Bull Elder as our elder, and Hong’er called you Uncle! Now you use your own nephew as bait to kill your own brothers—where did your heart grow, inside a dog’s belly?”

Jiao Demon King let out a laugh.

“Fourth Brother, stop yelling. This kind of creature isn’t worth your breath.”

He looked at Peng Demon King with contempt: “You call him an animal, and even animals find it foul. Peng the Third is now a top disciple of the Demon Master’s Palace, backed by the ancient Demon Master—his status is exalted. We wild-path demon kings aren’t fit to call him brother.”

Peng Demon King showed no shame or anger, only lifted his eyelids and gazed at the group.

“If you still cherish old ties, join my Demon Master’s Palace now—I can plead with my master to spare your lives.”

Lion Camel King laughed bitterly: “Oh, listen—he’s granting us a path to live?”

Peng Demon King didn’t even glance at him; his gaze passed over Bull Demon King and the others, landing on Su Chen.

“Su Chen, you truly dare to come.”

Su Chen said: “Just a Flame Mountain. Why shouldn’t I come? Back then in the Donghuang Secret Realm, you couldn’t kill me—what can you do today?”

Peng Demon King’s grip on his spear tightened slightly; once, he’d been ordered by his master to hunt Su Chen, who had stolen the Gui Xu Divine Axe from the Donghuang Secret Realm—but Su Chen, despite lower cultivation, had escaped, leading to today’s disaster.

Peng Demon King sneered: “Sharp tongue won’t save anyone. Su Chen, you ruined my master’s grand plan, severed the future of our demon race, and now you dare come here to die? That’s guts, at least.”

“Severed the future of the demon race?”

Jiao Demon King stepped forward, tapping his halberd against the rock—sparks flew.

“Peng the Third, does your Demon Master’s Palace even deserve to speak of the demon race’s future?”

He looked up at the demons of the Demon Master’s Palace, his voice echoing across Flame Mountain.

“During the Wu-Yao Cataclysm, the Donghuang Emperor fought to the death, Emperor Di Jun bled across the heavens, the myriad tribes of the Demon Court gave their lives without hesitation. Where was your Demon Master?”

A few demons of the Demon Master’s Palace twitched their faces.

Jiao Demon King continued: “He stole the Hetu and Luoshu, abandoned the Demon Court, and fled! Had he not betrayed his lord mid-battle, would the Zhou Tian Xing Dou Great Array have collapsed so quickly? Would Emperor Di Jun have been left alone?”

“Now he dares speak of the demon race’s future?”

Hearing Jiao Demon King’s words, Peng Demon King finally changed expression.

The Demon Master’s Palace lineage most feared this old scandal.

Peng Demon King raised his Demon-Swallowing Spear, its tip aimed at Jiao Demon King.

“You’re asking for death.”

Jiao Demon King laughed louder: “What? Did I strike a nerve, you Kunpeng? I say, if you Kunpeng had died on the battlefield back then, the demon race might still have erected a stele for you. But now that you’re dead, you’ll only be spat upon by all demons!”

Lion Camel King pounded his blade: “Second Brother’s tongue is sharper than any sword.”

Peng Demon King ceased his verbal sparring; he raised his hand.

“Bring him out.”

Two demons from the Demon Master’s Palace emerged from a stone cave, dragging a boy between them.

Hong’er was bound in black chains, his spiritual power sealed, his face deathly pale.

Yet when he looked up and saw Bull Demon King and the others, he gritted his teeth and made no sound.

Bull Demon King stared at his son—the boy who, in ordinary days, could run wild and torment every minor demon across Emerald Cloud Mountain—now unnervingly silent.

Blood surged in his eyes; he slammed his iron cudgel onto the peak—the summit cracked with multiple fissures.

“Peng Demon King!” Bull Demon King raised his iron cudgel, pointing it at Peng Demon King.

Peng Demon King stepped beside Hong’er, the tip of his Demon-Swallowing Spear pressing against Hong’er’s throat.

Bull Demon King took half a step forward—Peng Demon King pressed the spear down.

Hong’er lifted his head, still silent.

Su Chen raised his hand to stop Bull Demon King.

“Peng Demon King, what do you want?”

Peng Demon King stared at him, greed barely concealed in his eyes.

“I want the Chaos Bell.”

Peng Demon King said: “Hand over the Chaos Bell, seal your own spiritual power, and I’ll spare Hong’er’s life. Otherwise, I’ll shatter his body first, then obliterate his primordial spirit.”

Lion Camel King’s teeth ground together: “Threatening a child—you’re even more shameless than I thought.”

Peng Demon King paid no heed to Lion Camel King’s curses.

His eyes fixed only on Su Chen.

The Chaos Bell—such a primordial treasure, something even his master, at the peak of a Semi-Sage, coveted.

The more he thought of it, the fiercer the fire of greed burned in his chest.

If he forced Su Chen to surrender the Chaos Bell today, his status in the Demon Master’s Palace would soar beyond measure.

Bull Demon King growled: “Su Chen, don’t give it to him!”

Hong’er finally spoke, voice hoarse: “Father, don’t care about me! I’m not afraid!”

Bull Demon King’s eyes reddened, cursing: “Brat, shut up!”

Hong’er grinned: “Father, didn’t I bring you shame, did I?”

Those words stabbed deeper than any blade.

Su Chen looked at Hong’er and sighed softly.

“So all your scheming was just for the Chaos Bell.”

His third eye glowed with xuanhuang light; the ancient bell’s shadow slowly emerged, its surface woven with sun, moon, stars, earth, water, fire, and wind, xuanhuang qi cascading down.

The demons of the Demon Master’s Palace gasped, their breaths chaotic; Peng Demon King’s eyes gleamed, momentarily stunned.

Su Chen waited for this moment.

That split-second of distraction was enough for him.

He shifted his intent—the newly manifested Chaos Bell trembled.

“Dong—”

The bell’s tone rang out—the magma in Flame Mountain froze mid-flow, crimson sands hung suspended in air, the mouths of the Demon Master’s Palace demons still open, unsealed.

Peng Demon King’s pupils shrank—he tried to thrust his spear, but his arm was paralyzed.

Time and space around him were sealed by the Chaos Bell; his body stood like a clay statue, utterly motionless.

Su Chen stepped forward—in an instant, he stood before Peng Demon King.

He reached out, grasped Hong’er’s shoulder, and spun his hundun spiritual power—the chains shattered inch by inch, all restraints on Hong’er’s body broken.

Then he pulled Hong’er into his arms. He could have killed Peng Demon King on the spot, but he did not act—this matter was better left to Bull Demon King and the others.

So, carrying Hong’er, Su Chen retreated to his original position.

Only now did the bell’s resonance fade.

Magma resumed its flow, the demons’ startled cries emerging half a beat too late from their throats.

Peng Demon King’s spear thrust into empty air, its tip sinking into the rock.

He stared at the empty space beside him, then at Hong’er now held safely in Su Chen’s arms—his face flushed crimson and pale in turn.

Lion Camel King froze, then burst into roaring laughter, doubling over with mirth.

“Hahahaha! Peng the Third, where’s that smug look of yours? Show it to me again!”

Bull Demon King rushed to Hong’er’s side; seeing his son injured but alive, his throat convulsed, and all he managed to spit out was:

“Brat, we’ll settle this when we get back.”

Hong’er weakly rolled his eyes: “Father, can’t you deal with that feathered bastard first?”

Bull Demon King nodded, lifting his gaze to Peng Demon King.

Hong’er was saved—he had no more restraint.

Demon power surged along his iron cudgel; the ferocious aura of the Great Saint of the Flat Sky spread, forcing the entire sky’s sandstorm to flee the area.