Chapter 362: Level Five of the Divine Hand of Burning Heaven: The Demon Master Arrives

Your hands slowly faded from their crimson glow, yet the slender fingers still retained a radiant, flame-like sheen, like dawn's lingering aurora.

This is the fourth level of the Divine Hand of Burning Heaven—"Flame Catastrophe."

Since entering the Primordial Realm, the subtleties of the Primordial Art, the ferocity of the Divine Hand of Burning Heaven, and the vast fortune of Yan Land have intertwined, triggering an unprecedented transformation.

The Divine Hand of Burning Heaven has six levels: "Kindling," "Southern Candle," "Sealed Flame," "Flame Catastrophe," "Fire Marsh," and "Zhu Rong."

At this level, its power is so immense that even ordinary iron can be slowly melted into molten metal.

The "Fire Marsh" realm can gather the essence of fire within a specific area, forming a miraculous fire-ground spectacle—but such divine ability requires attaining the Heavenly-Person Realm, where inner and outer realms resonate as one, allowing control over external spiritual energy.

Against Xiao Yue's peerless mobility, direct attacks would be futile.

True opportunities often lie hidden in the most unlikely moments.

In combat, Xiao Yue's speed is like a startled swan; direct strikes cannot even graze his sleeves. Only by waiting for the right moment can you land a fatal blow.

Even the Seven Sons of Zhongnan and the Four Elders of the Sword Sect, though exhausted, were not exploitable weaknesses for Xiao Yue; the true opening lay in the moment when Xiu'er hanged herself behind the house—at that instant, Xiao Yue's spirit trembled.

That was the chance!

Yet, regrettably, this strike could only wound Xiao Yue—barely graze him.

The Heavenly-Person Realm is, in truth, a wholly new tier.

In this realm, heaven and earth are the furnace, the human body the elixir; inner and outer become one, spiritual energy moves at will, the bones are reshaped, the acupoints open, transcending mortality. When cultivated to its peak, it achieves the supreme state recorded by the Three True Ancestors: "Crossing the Void with the Physical Body."

Since Xiao Yue has reached the Heavenly-Person Realm, a normal person's chest would already be pierced through.

You looked up—the stone hut's front, Xiu'er had fallen from the rope that separated life and death; her face bore not fear, but a faint release and joy.

You silently approved: this woman's spirit was resilient and sharp-witted, nothing like Xiao Yue's accomplice. Earlier, the deliberately shattered bowl had been her silent warning; this "suicide" was, in truth, a carefully laid gamble.

Around them, all who witnessed Yan Wang's earth-shattering strike were filled with shock.

Look at Xiao Yue—he was now disheveled, his upper garment reduced to ash, revealing a lean, toned torso, his chest bearing a horrifying palm imprint, deeply sunken, flesh and blood torn.

His hair was wild, yet he silently touched his wound; his skin was charred, still burning hot, and a scorching internal qi raged within him.

Xiao Yue's gaze narrowed as he fixed you with a questioning stare: "Is this not human martial art?"

You remained silent; your aura surged again, your hands instantly engulfed in crimson light, like iron just pulled from a furnace—scorching, blazing.

Xiao Yue still had strength left; this battle is far from over.

The Seven Sons of Zhongnan could no longer mobilize spiritual energy; they lay paralyzed. Though they saw their master gain the upper hand over Xiao Yue, they held no hope—sighing that the blow had not been fatal.

They gazed at their master's figure, eyes filled with anxiety and guilt, unwilling to become his burden.

The Four Elders of the Sword Sect fixed their eyes on your hands—those palms like flames, even from afar radiating terrifying heat.

They exchanged glances, deeply shaken; having left their mountain gate for so long, they had never seen such an uncanny martial art!

The martial world truly sees new generations replace the old!

The Four Elders of the Sword Sect also noticed the commotion inside the pavilion—two had slipped away during the chaos, one of them being their disciple Hu Jie.

They showed no great disappointment; survival is human nature, beyond blame. They merely sighed softly.

Xiao Yue suddenly turned his head, his gaze complex as it settled on Xiu'er—as if something had dawned on him.

The earlier panic in Xiu'er's eyes had vanished, replaced by an indescribable resolve.

Xiao Yue burst into laughter, his voice laced with amusement and admiration: "Hah! I like this version of you even more!"

With that—

He turned his attention back to you, drawing a delicate jade vial from his sleeve.

The stopper lifted, releasing a faint, sweet fragrance; without hesitation, he poured the jade liquid onto his horrific wound.

A miraculous sight unfolded—the torn flesh and blood, nourished by the liquid, healed visibly before their eyes.

"Lu Chen, you are indeed extraordinary—the first in years to wound me," Xiao Yue's voice grew serious. "But sadly, your luck won't strike twice."

The Four Elders of the Sword Sect stared, speechless with shock—what divine substance was in that vial, capable of healing such grievous wounds so swiftly?

It surpassed their imagination—unbelievable.

Xiao Yue gazed at the nearly empty vial, a flicker of regret crossing his face. Had he not foreseen his imminent battle with Lu Yu, he would never have wasted such a precious item.

Now, his chest wound was fully healed, leaving only a faint scar.

He looked at you again, searching your face for a trace of fear.

All your efforts end here.

Yet, your face remained as calm as ever.

At this moment—

Both Xiao Yue and you sensed something—the three who had fled had unexpectedly returned.

They were the very three who had escaped: Hu Jie of the Sword Sect, the robed elder of the Snow Mountain Sect, and Ma Ma Yiren, whose acupoints had been sealed and forcibly dragged away.

Hu Jie and the robed elder moved back slowly, tense.

Those inside the pavilion were puzzled—Xiao Yue hadn't pursued them; why had they returned?

Xiao Yue's smile grew even brighter.

The three retreated slowly, their eyes locked on the entrance—where someone seemed to be advancing step by step.

Then two more entered the pavilion: a refined middle-aged scholar, and a young man with a stern, masculine aura.

The two walked in slowly; the scholar spoke first, his voice gentle yet powerful: "Huang Dao, pays respects to Yan Wang."

At his side, the young man bowed in greeting.

These two were Huang Dao and Xie Mu.

Huang Dao's gaze settled on you—this was your first formal meeting.

Though you had crossed paths before at Zhongnan Mountain and in Daqing's capital, you had never truly seen each other.

Huang Dao's eyes flickered with surprise—he had not expected the famed Yan Wang to have entered the Primordial Realm; such cultivation placed him among the Top Ten Masters of Baoyue Tower.

Xie Mu's expression grew awkward; fortunately, Lu Yu was not here—if not for his words at Zhongnan Mountain years ago, the Emperor of Daqing might not have died.

Huang Dao would not be alive today!

One sentence from Xie Mu altered Daqing's fate and the entire martial world's balance.

"The Demon Master, Huang Dao!"

As the middle-aged scholar introduced himself, a collective gasp echoed through the pavilion.

One of the Five Supreme Masters of the Realm had appeared here.

Hu Jie and the robed elder's faces turned ashen.

They had thought themselves safe—only to find Huang Dao here again. Despair surged within them. Hu Jie, especially, looked hollowed out, as if he had already seen his doom.

Xiao Yue smiled and called out: "You're late, Huang Dao."

Huang Dao smiled faintly, a hidden meaning in his expression, and replied calmly:

"Not late at all. This is precisely the right moment."

Between them, a prior agreement existed—everything was understood without words.

Xiao Yue knew Huang Dao's sole purpose: to personally end Lu Chen's life.

He also realized time was running out—he did not know the situation with Xuantianzi, and though he carried the Forbidden Character, he did not believe Xuantianzi alone could defeat Lu Yu.

"Huang Dao, no time to waste!"

In Xiao Yue's eyes, the lives of these others meant nothing. His only thought: eliminate Lu Chen quickly, once and for all.

The atmosphere in the pavilion grew suffocating—as if even the air had frozen.

Everyone felt an unprecedented despair.

"Master, why hasn't he returned!"

The Seven Sons of Zhongnan were frantic; they knew their master alone could not withstand two of the Five Supreme Masters.

Behind the hut, Xiu'er's face was pale; she gripped the scissors tightly, powerless to change the situation.

"Master, run!"

The Seven Sons shouted desperately, urging their master to abandon them and save himself.

Yet—

You remained unmoved—even the Divine Hand of Burning Heaven began to recede.

At this moment—

Xiao Yue's face twisted with impatience: "What, so many flies today!"

Huang Dao stood to the side, calm—as if he had foreseen this turn.

Xie Mu swiftly scanned beyond the pavilion—distantly, horsemen surged forward, galloping toward them.

Hu Jie, with his acute hearing, heard the hooves like a sudden downpour—hundreds, perhaps thousands—immense and thunderous.

At this critical moment, a sonic boom erupted inside the pavilion, deafening.

Countless hidden weapons rained toward Xiao Yue and Huang Dao's group.

Xiao Yue flicked his folding fan lightly, deflecting most of the projectiles; one glinting dart, as if sentient, curved sharply toward his eyes.

He pinched it effortlessly between two fingers.

It was an ancient yellow copper coin.

Huang Dao, to protect Xie Mu, swept his sleeve—the flying weapons were drawn as if by invisible hands, all landing neatly in his sleeve. Upon closer look, they were all copper coins—round with a square hole.

And then, a sword's hum pierced the pavilion.

One of the Four Elders of the Sword Sect gasped:

"A Thousand Sister Wu Tong Leaves Fall!"

Everyone knew this was the signature technique of Ye Ye Shengnan, master of the Ye family of hidden weapons, ranked among the Top Ten on the Jingzhe List.

Ye Ye Shengnan, known in the martial world as the "Thousand-Handed Immortal," often dressed as a man, yet her peerless beauty could not be concealed.

Her dart techniques were unmatched, supreme under heaven.

"Autumn's Sister Wu Tong Shower"—this masterful dart technique was famed throughout the martial world; when unleashed, it resembled autumn leaves swirling through the sky, each one brimming with lethal intent.

All eyes turned once more to the doorway, where two figures entered slowly.

One was a gray-clad man, over thirty, elegant and poised, his long hair falling past his shoulders, his face refined, with a faint beard on his chin and eyes like cold stars.

He was Li Li Lanjiang, the Sword Saint of the Sword Sect, ranked among the Ten Great Masters of the Realm.

The other was a woman dressed in male attire, beautifully delicate, holding a golden folding fan that she gently waved, her peach-blossom eyes smiling with tender affection. She was none other than Ye Ye Shengnan, known as the Thousand-Hand Immortal Maiden.

The only woman among the Ten Great Masters of the Realm!

The two naturally stepped forward before the crowd.

Yu Ke and Huang Dao stood as opposing sides!

This was a shocking confrontation: two of the Jingshe List's Ten Great Masters facing the legendary Five Supreme Masters.

The crowd grew increasingly tense—within a single tavern, five of the top ten figures in the realm had gathered.

Li Li Lanjiang spoke first, his laugh hearty: "Young Master Yu, it's been two years since we last met! Last time we clashed, though I didn't prevail, I barely escaped. Today, I'll test your skill once more."

Ye Ye Shengnan turned her gaze to the Demon Master Huang Dao, a flicker of surprise in her eyes: "I never imagined—the man who once played the flute in despair by the Yuetangjiang last year was none other than the famed Demon Master Huang Dao."

"Your Demon Master's grace remains undimmed. I, Ye Shengnan, am truly blessed to behold you today."

Who could have guessed that Huang Dao, the cold and heartless demon in the eyes of the world, was in truth a refined, elegant scholar?

Huang Dao smiled faintly and replied: "It's been a long time."

Yu Ke's face darkened. "Do you two truly intend to stand against me?"

For between the realm of the Primordial and the Celestial, the gap was as vast as heaven and earth.

Ordinarily, if these two encountered Yu Ke, even together they could only flee.

Ye Ye Shengnan's expression hardened. "If you two choose to leave now, my brother Li and I will not stand in your way."

"But if you intend to harm the Prince of Yan, you will not succeed. Should the Prince of Yan perish, the realm will descend into chaos."

Huang Dao laughed. "Then there's nothing left to discuss."

Before his words faded, chaos erupted outside. The sound of riders dismounting rose in waves, accompanied by the taut twang of bowstrings—clearly, archers were preparing to shoot.

Soon, four hundred armored soldiers surrounded the tavern on all sides.

Yu Ke frowned.

The woman beneath the hood in the pavilion—the same woman from the Yuetangjiang Shrine—suddenly sensed something and turned her gaze outward.

Hu Jie's eyes lit up—the tide had turned.

(End of Chapter)