Chapter 79: Snow and Wind Against the Enemy (Thanks to Master

Outside, the world was frozen solid; by night, snow seemed to be falling again. The temple had a door, but it only kept out the wind and snow.

Practicing Yin-Yang Spirit Law, yang qi could repel cold, but it was not as potent as fire qi from the Five Elements Spirit Law. Since Lin Jue and his junior sister’s cultivation was shallow, they merely avoided freezing to death—yet still felt the chill. With the cloth blanket draped over the donkey’s back, they eventually managed to fall asleep after adjusting.

At some point, the temple suddenly lit up.

All three opened their eyes drowsily.

The temple had no lamps lit; the light seemed like natural daylight, yet tinged with a dim yellow. They were not jolted awake by the light—rather, they felt as if they had naturally woken at dawn.

But if they had woken naturally, it was impossible all three would awaken at once.

“Hm?”

The junior sister was baffled. She looked up at Lin Jue, then turned to look at Seventh Senior Brother, unsure what was happening.

The three exchanged glances.

Lin Jue glanced outside through the two small windows in the temple wall—the world beyond remained pitch black.

Suddenly, a voice echoed inside the temple:

“You have fallen asleep here…”

“…Unaware of the cold?”

The voice was ethereal, layered with reverberations.

Dazed, the three followed the sound—and saw, inexplicably, a new figure standing in the temple.

The man was tall and imposing, clad in a mountain-patterned armor beneath a five-colored divine robe. His stature dwarfed ordinary men. He stared at them, though none knew when he had appeared.

Though startled, they felt no fear—as if some emotion were missing—and quickly recognized him: the deity on the temple altar.

“We pay homage to the Divine Lord.”

All three bowed forward.

“No need for such formalities.”

As they saw the Divine Lord clearly, his voice grew distinct.

“Why did the Divine Lord summon us in the dead of night?” Seventh Senior Brother asked, puzzled. “Was it because you appeared in town tonight, strolling among mortals, and watched our performance?”

“No,” the Divine Lord replied casually. “Though your magic tricks were skillful and dazzling, they hardly warrant my coming at midnight. But it is related. You have cultivated, learned spells, yet do not consider yourselves superior like certain monks or Daoists. That is commendable.”

“Thank you, Divine Lord,” Seventh Senior Brother said first, then asked, “Then why are you here?”

“Heh…”

The Divine Lord shifted his gaze to Lin Jue:

“You are Lin Jue?”

“Yes.”

“You slept too deeply—you didn’t even notice someone approaching your door.” The Divine Lord smiled faintly. “Deities normally do not interfere in mortal affairs. But you have accumulated merit in my records, and tonight I watched your performance—we are connected. That is why I came to warn you.”

“Hm?”

All three were startled.

Before they could react, the Divine Lord vanished. The temple’s glow dimmed, their thoughts faded—as if a dream had shattered.

The three opened their eyes again—this time sharply awake. They still huddled against the wall, the temple dark, wind and snow howling outside. The entire episode had clearly been a dream.

“Senior Brother…”

“The Divine Lord…”

Remembering the Divine Lord’s words, all three rose.

The fox had woken too.

Lin Jue lifted his broadsword, flicked out a spark of flame, illuminating the temple for an instant. Seventh Senior Brother stepped forward under the light, approached the altar, and reached for the oil lamp—but did not light it. The junior sister pressed against the wall, tiptoeing to peek outside.

The three moved in perfect unison, each knowing their role.

“There seems to be someone outside,” the junior sister whispered. “I can’t see clearly—but I hear footsteps.”

“Ying~”

The little fox agreed.

Lin Jue walked over too.

Through the window holes, the outside was dim. A figure trudged through the snowstorm, moving frantically—yet only circling the temple.

“...”

Lin Jue frowned, said nothing, walked to the door, exchanged glances with the others, then suddenly raised his broadsword, shoved aside the debris blocking the door, and yanked it open.

“Bang…”

Not a moment’s hesitation! A burst of flame surged out ahead of any human!

In the freezing night, snowflakes were lit by the fire. Outside stood a warrior in padded clothing, wielding a longsword and crossbow, shivering violently. The ground was covered in snow, yet his footsteps formed a chaotic, overlapping circle around the temple—how many laps he’d walked, his steps now distorted by frost.

Only when the door opened and the fire burst forth did he seem to notice the temple. He whirled around in alarm.

His face was purplish-red, lips blue-black—familiar.

It was the warrior who had stood on the rooftop before!

Lin Jue’s eyes sharpened instantly.

Through wind and snow, he had crept right up to them!

“Sss!”

The warrior gasped, eyes wide, drew his sword in panic—but the flame was already rushing toward him. In desperation, he dove sideways.

Yet his movement was stiff.

Lin Jue understood at once: the Divine Lord hadn’t just warned them.

He must have known this man’s identity—or at least his intent—and had used magic to make him lose the temple and its occupants. Now, in this bitter cold, the man was nearly frozen solid.

This man’s skill was extraordinary!

Lin Jue had seen the prowess of martial artists in this world—he knew the strength of Third Senior Brother’s Bean Soldiers—

Though clumsy, Bean Soldiers were fearless, pain-insensitive, immensely strong, and nearly fully armored. Yet even two of them couldn’t hold this warrior—he’d cut them down with multiple slashes. Clearly, this was no mere strongman with a blade—he was skilled.

Even now, though his body was frozen, faced with sudden flame, he still rolled into the snow, barely avoiding it.

Third Senior Brother wasn’t here. No Bean Soldiers available.

Lin Jue sensed danger.

He couldn’t give the man a chance to recover.

As the flame dimmed, Lin Jue swept his sleeve—wind roared, lifting snow into a blinding storm, obscuring the man’s vision. Then he swept his sleeve again—a second flame surged forth.

He was no longer the same. This flame was spirit-fire. Though lacking other abilities, its temperature far exceeded ordinary fire.

The warrior was caught off-guard, struck directly by the flame.

Even as his clothes ignited instantly, he made no sound, rolled several times to smother the fire, then immediately retreated, trying to vanish into the dark.

The sky was dark, snow fell endlessly—just a few steps back, and he vanished from sight.

Yet behind Lin Jue, two lines of fire shot out, connecting the temple to the warrior.

The fire-lines illuminated them briefly, then vanished.

Immediately after, countless fireflies erupted from the temple—pouring out the door, darting through the windows—flying wildly in the icy snow, dim but enough to outline the warrior’s blurred form and the falling snow.

Two pillars of flame erupted!

One struck the ground diagonally, spreading wide—impossible to dodge. The warrior leapt straight up to avoid it.

The snow beneath instantly melted.

Before he landed, another pillar of flame shot straight at him.

The warrior’s eyes widened.

Where could he gain leverage in midair?

This brat was ruthless!

In desperation, he twisted his body, slashed his sword downward, sparking off the ground, and flipped—barely evading the flame.

As he landed, whether from frozen limbs or melting snow turning to ice-water, his foot slipped—he crashed heavily to the ground.

“Shaa!”

A distant sound: snow being shoved and slid.

The warrior instantly raised his sword to block.

In his peripheral vision, a shadow dashed across the snow—clearly slipping and sliding, unable to stand firm. In the dark, he couldn’t see clearly. The young Daoist didn’t understand technique—but his aura was fierce. His clumsy movements somehow resembled the “Jade Maiden Shuttle,” a sword art meant to pursue and strike enemies.

But that was an advanced body and sword technique—graceful as a swallow darting through willows, blade like a soul-chasing shadow. This man was utterly clumsy.

Before he could close in, Lin Jue’s broadsword came down in a chop.

His feet kept sliding forward.

“Bang!”

Flame surged toward his face, filling his vision—if he didn’t close his eyes, he’d be blinded.

Another axe, attached to a staff, slashed through the fire.

“Clang!”

The warrior’s palm stung sharply.

The cold was simply too intense.

The warrior opened his eyes, gritted his teeth against the pain, slapped the ground with his left hand, surged upward—his sword already poised for “Lifting Stars”—but his frozen body moved too slowly.

Yet this brat clearly knew not to engage in close combat. By the time the sword rose, he had already retreated—and swept his sleeve again, another wave of flame surged forward.

“Die!”

The warrior covered his face with his sleeve, charged straight through the flames, feet never stopping, slashing his sword wildly, burning all over, chasing the wind and moon.

From the entrance of the God Temple, unseen stones and brilliant fire lines constantly shot toward him; each time he was about to catch the brat, a stone struck him, and each time he was about to slash, a fire line shot straight for his face, forcing him to parry with his sword.

In the short span of a few breaths at night, flames burst forth over ten times.

Suddenly, a series of tiny impacts struck his back.

It felt as if four animal paws had kicked him at once, even leaving plum-blossom-shaped toe prints on his skin—unprepared, he lost his balance; he failed to catch the man, and his neck throbbed with pain.

“Sss!”

He spun around, swung his sword, flung off the thing, and swept it in all directions.

A flicker of his peripheral vision—

Among thousands of fireflies, a slender, graceful figure landed, perfectly dodging the blade, like the wind, vanishing into darkness in an instant, the fireflies stirred by its motion.

What was that?

Another gust of wind came from the darkness.

The warrior raised his sword to pierce the moon.

“Clang!”

The blade sank, veering sideways.

Another flying brick.

“...”

The warrior clenched his teeth, rolled on the ground, smothered the flames on his body, utterly ignoring the searing pain of his burns, his gaze dark and grim.

Just cheap tricks!

You use hidden weapons? Do you think I don’t?

You know a few minor tricks—can they truly match my decades of rigorous martial training?

Thinking thus, his eyes locked onto the figure ahead, his hand reached for his waist—to grasp a flying dart.

“Hm?”

His waist was empty?

He felt beside him for the crossbow…

Also empty?

Distant clinks echoed.

They sounded like his own darts hitting the ground and bouncing—he squinted: at the temple entrance stood two figures; his crossbow had somehow ended up in one’s hand, while the smaller girl, barely more than a child, strained to gather a spark of flame and flicked it with her finger.

The spark flew out, stitching a line through the night.

All the fire lines came from there.

The warrior flipped midair, evading nimbly.

At the same moment, he saw thousands of fireflies, as if guided, surge toward him.

Those tiny glows had been unremarkable before, but in this dark, suffocating night, save for the brief bursts of blazing spirit-fire, nothing outshone them—his eyes filled with these specks, and the distant shadows blurred beyond sight.

“Woo… woo…”

Two gusts struck at once.

Two bricks.

The warrior almost heard the wind to judge their positions—one came fast, one slow; one powerful, one weak. He twisted his body to dodge the first, then raised his hand to redirect its force, channeling his sword through heaven and earth.

“Clang!”

The brick split cleanly in two under the blade.

But then came a soft sound.

“Trouble!”

A sharp pain stabbed his abdomen.

He reached down—his fingers found a crossbow bolt, already buried in his belly.

Through the fireflies, he looked up: his own crossbow had somehow ended up in the hands of the knife-wielding brat; the boy had poor aim, so he’d closed the distance to fire—how could he dodge such a close-range ambush?

The warrior’s heart sank.

He realized he’d been…

These Daoists had never matched him in strength, yet tonight he never imagined he’d wander half the night unable to find the temple, unable to find any exit.

A fox bit and tugged at his pant leg.

The ground was already slick; the warrior, unprepared and wounded, crashed heavily to the ground.

“Thud!”

The snow beneath him was blown apart by his fall.

The Daoist, knife in hand, spat fire forward.

“Boom…”

Where the flame passed, all the fireflies turned to glowing specks and vanished.

The fire’s heat was truly extreme—if the warrior couldn’t dodge, he’d be reduced to charred flesh in mere instants; he’d merely relied on his nimble footwork and sharp instincts.

Now, he had no other choice.

Was there a broadsword behind the flame?

The warrior still thought instinctively.