Chapter 56: Chapter Fifty-Six: Chihuo

The sun sank westward, a waning moon drifted east, the dense forest drowned in darkness, yet draped in a pale, ghastly glow.

Seeing the mood grow heavy, Zhu Gaoyang gave the boy one final pat on the shoulder and laughed heartily: “If we’d met in the Divine Capital, I’d stand atop Qilin Tower and tell everyone you’re my friend, Zhu Gaoyang’s friend.”

“...That’d be pretty embarrassing.”

Zhu Gaoyang’s smile vanished; fine scales crept up his jawbone as he murmured: “Then let’s go—”

Suddenly!

His hand was seized by the boy; dragon saliva surged violently up his arm, racing straight to his skull.

He whirled his head to glare at the boy, phoenix eyes blazing, hair and beard bristling—as if the Qilin roared in fury!

If Pei Ye had seen this sight, he would never again doubt the gentleness of Zhu Gaoyang’s earlier smile.

For the Dragon Lord’s first sword vein had always been weak, powerless, and amiable before him—never once turned this sharp edge upon him.

Pei Ye had never imagined how bone-chilling and blood-freezing such a gaze would feel, how he’d be unable to draw his sword at all.

He’d be nothing but a white mouse before the Qilin.

But unfortunately, Zhu Gaoyang was not facing Pei Ye.

He was indeed the Qilin, master of all beasts, yet the enemy before him was no white mouse—it was mountain, sea, and sky.

Those golden eyes descended from the ninth heaven, cold and distant; Zhu Gaoyang’s body stiffened, his gaze blurred.

Only then did he realize the stupidity of his decision.

Why had he thought to transform into a Frost Ghost? After his entire body was altered, how long could his head even hold out?

How could he adapt to this corpse? Without qi, without his sword, without all his training—could this body even stop two Purple Robes?

How could he have... suddenly become so foolish?

But soon this doubt vanished; his entire mind grew hazy.

Exogenous scales and bones sprouted like thorny brambles, covering his face like a general donning armor.

His qi’s protection still held some effect—the golden vertical pupils still flickered with faint clarity, but like a candle guttering in the wind.

“Pei Ye” glanced at him; he was flung backward, vanishing in an instant among the bushes.

Pei Ye blinked in daze.

He heard Zhu Gaoyang say “Then let’s go,” and softly murmured “Mm.”

At the same time, Zhu Gaoyang had already leapt backward, vanishing among the bushes—whether he heard or not, Pei Ye did not know.

Zhu Gaoyang’s ambush must have had some effect, for Pei Ye ran for a full quarter-hour without any Purple Robes catching up.

And the massive mountain silhouette visible ahead beneath the moon—surely it was the same mountain’s rear face, visible from Fenghuai County.

But the situation remained grim: though he could match the Eighth Life stage, that was only muscle strength amplified by dragon blood.

Those Black Robes were solid Seventh and Eighth Life cultivators, masters of qi-enhanced leaping techniques—their speed far outpaced his.

The wounds from the earlier battle still significantly impaired his body; neither running nor fighting could be done at will.

Along the way, he fought two more scattered Black Robes—both charging straight at him—prompting Pei Ye to suspect something had happened ahead.

After two battles, his injuries worsened; Pei Ye began breathing lightly. From now on, he must avoid combat as much as possible—even if it cost him time.

His body could no longer sustain a relentless slaughter, and how many more enemies lay ahead remained unknown.

Yet the moment this thought surfaced, Pei Ye’s heart sank.

He halted, gripping his sword and glancing sideways; branches rustled, leaves stirred, and the wind howled like hunting owls one after another—new Black Robes had steadily taken perches among the trees around him.

Dragon blood repaired his body too slowly; Pei Ye shook his arm—it still hindered him. A quick scan revealed over ten Candle World cultists surrounding him.

Pei Ye drew a deep breath, slowly unsheathing his sword, while frost and flame coiled around his other hand.

To win this battle, unless the divine seed in his belly sprouted another ability—like the one that controlled flesh—there was no hope.

Suddenly.

The night fell silent, the forest still; faint blue points emerged among the trees, like countless seeds sprouting in this space.

Soon these tiny sprouts grew into the delicate, familiar flame blossoms.

Pei Ye tilted his head slightly; the Black Robes around him also grew momentarily confused.

This flame—without heat, without harm, commonly used in rituals as a spiritual medium—how had it suddenly appeared here?

Hundreds of light, beautiful flame blossoms drifted slowly and quietly, dyeing the space into a serene, ethereal realm.

As if drawn by some shared origin, the blossoms gradually clustered toward the Black Robes, ten or so gathering beside each.

The cultists stared in bewilderment at these familiar, comforting flames; some even reached out to cradle them.

Then—an explosion of intensity no one had ever imagined.

The serene spirits swelled in an instant into deadly flame demons; escape was impossible. All cultists turned instantly into human pillars of fire.

No one had ever seen this side of it—not even Pei Ye, who now learned for the first time that this flame still retained its true nature as fire.

The wind howled like a whistle; trees twisted, leaves flew. Behind the dozen fiery human pillars, something vast and sinuous surged through the sky—Pei Ye’s heart tightened as a head the size of a cart flashed past his eyes.

Then his body lightened; the night’s gorgeous dream descended into reality. Instinctively, Pei Ye gripped the long mane beside him, raised his head—and saw cold heavens, dark skies, sparse stars, faint clouds—he was now soaring above the clouds.

“This is how you use [Chihuo]. Did you see?”

A cry of “Ah—” faded at its end; only then did Pei Ye realize it was his own scream.

Carefully leaning forward to peer down, the dense forest far below looked like a vast green carpet; the thin, delicate clouds beside him were within reach.

The reality of flight differed utterly from dreams; no matter how often he imagined soaring, nothing prepared him for the true sensation of ascending into the heavens—not even the Candle World’s dantian seed, nor a knife stuck in his buttocks, could distract him now.

He took two deep breaths, swallowed hard, and patted the Black Chih: “Can you fly a bit higher, then spin around once—I’ve got a firm grip.”

The Black Chih smiled silently; this sudden childishness was precisely what made this boy unique in its eyes. It twisted and darted through the air, sleek and graceful, ignoring him.

After a while of novelty, the shadow of reality returned to his heart. Pei Ye gazed at the mountain ahead and murmured: “You should’ve arrived sooner—Zhu Gaoyang...”

“Mm. I... saw everything.”

“I’m not blaming you...” Pei Ye sighed softly, raising his head to gaze at the waning moon. “I know you’ve been in peril these past days too—”

Suddenly, his body straightened; his face hardened. “Two Lives.”

The Black Chih said nothing; it was already at full speed, and could not go faster.

Pei Ye murmured: “You don’t need to rush—we should reach Fenghuai in time. But we likely won’t make it to Immortal Platform. The Platform’s arrival isn’t up to us. And you said when the Immortal Platform comes, it’ll definitely solve this problem?”

“Yes—but it might solve the problem by solving you too.”