Chapter 215: Huofeng Valley

The next day at noon.

Dry, scorching winds swept across the barren plain; as far as the eye could see, nothing but a few withered trees and crisscrossing fissures remained.

Xie Jinhuan stood on the desert plain, still feeling the ground’s searing heat through his shoes, as if standing atop a volcano about to erupt.

Meiqiu, whose black fur naturally hated heat, now recalled her past labor of hauling water back and forth; she shook her head vigorously on his shoulder, signaling—go back, go back, what’s even worth staying here…

Last year, Nangong Ye had spent a month here with the demoness; now he walked to a fissure two meters wide and pointed to the sword marks on the rock wall:

“Last year, I sparred with her right here. We accidentally broke through the ground and discovered this crack—it’s bottomless. I went in several times, but found nothing…”

Xie Jinhuan approached the fissure and peered down; below lay a sloping incline, roughly ten meters deep, yet he felt a wave of scorching heat rushing toward him.

The ghostly bride, ever at his side, now emerged and glanced downward casually:

“This does connect to the source of yang fire, but it’s far away. Let’s go.”

Hearing the ghost confirm it was an entrance, Xie Jinhuan wasted no time; he ordered Meiqiu to wait on the surface in case of ambush upon their return, then leapt first into the fissure.

Whoosh!

As they slid down the steep slope, the light dimmed, and it felt as if they had plunged into the heart of a heated bed—the air bone-dry, devoid of even a trace of moisture, with only the evaporation of sweat on their skin perceptible.

Bu Yuehua and Nangong Ye followed suit into the fissure; they had prepared thoroughly for this journey. Bu Yuehua pulled out a small pearl emitting a soft white glow, illuminating several zhang around them.

Nangong Ye then drew the Yin-Yang Ruler; as he channeled his qi, Xie Jinhuan felt an invisible, chilling cold sweep over his body, instantly turning the surroundings into a “dead zone.”

The Yin-Yang Ruler’s effect was simple and brutal: it blocked the yin and yang of heaven and earth. Normally, it could block only one.

But in Phoenix Tomb, only the Five Elements’ fire existed—fire being old yang. Once fully isolated, no spiritual energy remained in the area. Ordinary people inside the protected zone might feel nothing, but cultivators would sense they were trapped in a vacuum—qi flowed out but none entered; once their dantian was drained, even a Sect Master could not survive to walk out.

Xie Jinhuan sensed he was forced into a “breath-holding” state and warned:

“Controlling the Yin-Yang Ruler drains too much. If we use it too early, we won’t last long. Let’s endure it for now—we’ll use it only when we can’t hold out.”

Nangong Ye had merely tested its function; now he retracted the Yin-Yang Ruler and subtly cultivated his technique, striving to refine the remaining yang qi he could still tolerate.

Bu Yuehua had withdrawn early last year because her cultivation was purely yin—here, she could not cultivate qi at all, only endure the breath-holding state.

Xie Jinhuan’s “pouring wax backward” method, though still flawed in combat, was exceptionally effective as an auxiliary technique; now, with fire generating earth, earth generating metal, metal generating water… he transformed the tolerable fire element into balanced qi. Though inefficient, it was better than suffocating.

Bu Yuehua sensed the qi radiating from Xie Jinhuan and stared in surprise:

“Is this method you deduced from the Dragon Soaring Response Scripture?”

Xie Jinhuan nodded: “The qi-refining method was indeed derived from the Dragon Soaring Response Scripture, but reversing it, breaking it apart, and dispersing it into heaven and earth—that’s my own invention.”

Bu Yuehua, half a martial cultivator herself, naturally felt some longing for such an adaptively miraculous method.

Yet “pouring wax backward” was a subroutine within the core scripture, the Joyful Heart Scripture; outsiders could not learn it unless they first mastered the Joyful Heart Scripture itself, only then could they wield the Silver Dragon Eight Forms or pouring wax backward.

Learning the heart scripture established a tangible lineage bond—only disciples, partners, or children could inherit it.

As Wanyi’s senior, Bu Yuehua could not, like Nangong’s sister, first offer herself to the young master before learning this martial art. To obtain such methods, she could only wait until Wanyi obtained the martial divine scripture and slowly unraveled its secrets.

The three advanced along the underground fissure, while Ye Hongshang floated ahead to guide them. As they descended deeper, the world grew utterly silent—not cold, but increasingly scorching.

Xie Jinhuan had expected to encounter demonic beasts or dangers, but after half an hour, he found the treasure-hunting process dreadfully dull: merely twisting and turning through crustal fissures, descending deeper, with nothing but jagged, uneven rock fractures visible—no sign of life.

The fissure was not straight; it branched into many side openings, each marked with sword-carved symbols left by Bing Tuozi and her companions during their prior expeditions.

Xie Jinhuan initially followed the marks, drilling over a hundred li through the underground fissures, unaware of their exact location in Huofeng Valley, until they reached a relatively open rock fissure. The yang qi here was so intense it would burn meridians if directly refined; Bing Tuozi once again summoned the Yin-Yang Ruler and stared at faint chisel marks on the wall: “Last time, you found the purple-gold stone right here?”

Bu Yuehua nodded: “Yes, but only a tiny fragment—not enough to forge a celestial artifact. I made a hairpin from it and dared not go further. I don’t know if more remains inside.”

Xie Jinhuan surveyed the labyrinthine fissures, unable to determine which path to take, so he turned to the omniscient ghost.

Ye Hongshang sensed briefly, then raised a finger toward a fissure barely two people wide:

“Go this way. We’re close.”

—

Each time Lingguang Divine Gift appeared, it split open fissures in the earth’s crust, triggering geological changes. Over thousands of years, beneath Huofeng Valley’s thousand-li radius, a vast labyrinth had formed.

Because heavenly energy disperses to the surface, every surface fissure must connect to the source—but the path between is utterly unpredictable. If unlucky, one might search from autumn to early summer next year and still find nothing.

Just as Nangong Ye had searched last year, Huofeng Valley was not the only place being scoured; cultivators from Longgu Beach had begun descending underground last month. Though all were underground, they were over six hundred li from Xie Jinhuan—no chance of encounter.

Moreover, many lone cultivators from the Northern and Southern Courts and the Southern Frontier had also tried searching underground, but their resources were too meager to withstand the yang fire; they could only probe the surface.

But the world was vast, and a few cultivators always had better luck.

While Xie Jinhuan followed the ghost’s guidance toward the yang fire source, over thirty li away, within a rock fissure:

Lu Yan, clad in yellow-and-black Daoist robes, held the ancestral artifact of Wuling Mountain—the Chi Huo Token—blocking yang fire within three zhang of his body, carefully searching the rock while instructing his junior:

“Sixty years ago, I entered with your master through this fissure and luckily obtained one. I gave it to your master; later, he captured a heretic in Andong Protectorate who carried this legacy and gave it back to me…”

Xi Yanjun, the direct heir of the Divination Sect’s Sect Master, had considerable cultivation but had never entered such a secret realm; now he cautiously scanned his surroundings, wary of possible demonic beasts:

“According to legend, the Five Elders’ Divine Gifts each produce enough heavenly essence for two or three beings to refine. Back then, didn’t your uncle search for a second one?”

Lu Yan shook his head: “This depends entirely on fate. Most times, the essence is scattered across distant places. Finding one spot is already heaven’s favor. No one has ever lucked into three consecutively—even if they did, one person couldn’t consume it all.

“Moreover, if you take all the heavenly essence, the place cools rapidly. The underground cracks formed from geothermal expansion; when cooled, they naturally contract. Then, the entire Huofeng Valley will hear a deep rumbling ‘boom’ from below—outsiders instantly know the opportunity is gone and will wait at the surface to ambush whoever emerges. Whoever comes out dies…”

Xi Yanjun understood: “So if you obtain one without triggering heavenly signs, you must leave quickly—or you might not escape Huofeng Valley?”

Lu Yan nodded: “Greed leads to choking. Once the opportunity is taken, it means for the next sixty years, every cultivator in the world must steal from others who obtained it. If you take it all, they’ll come for you. Shang Lianbi monopolized Longgu Beach but never hoarded all the Azure Dragon Gifts—he always released one for others to fight over. Otherwise, he’d extinguish every cultivator’s hope, and no matter how high his cultivation, he couldn’t rest easy…”

“Oh…”

Xi Yanjun nodded thoughtfully, about to speak further, when his peripheral vision caught movement—a fissure entrance.

Lu Yan also sensed something odd; he approached with the glowing Chi Huo Token and saw a sword mark on the rock wall—his brow furrowed.

Underground fissures crisscrossed everywhere; leaving marks at junctions prevented getting lost if this search failed. Lu Yan himself had left signs.

But from the sword mark’s appearance, it had been over a year.

After circling and examining several nearby fissures, Lu Yan found markings on all of them. Though the symbols were faint, with inconsistent strokes and directions, as the Divination Sect’s Master, he could discern subtle patterns:

“Qian three connected, Kun six broken… another Daoist.”

Xi Yanjun carefully studied the seemingly random sword marks and nodded slightly:

“Death Gate in Kan Palace—great misfortune. This path won’t work.”

Lu Yan scanned the surroundings: “This Daoist has been searching for months. Last year, he couldn’t obtain anything. Let’s follow the life gate to where he stopped, then continue searching—we might save considerable effort.”

Xi Yanjun said nothing more; following the Eight Trigrams’ auspiciousness, he followed the marks deeper into the fissure…

(End of Chapter)