Chapter 217: The Zhu Ling Fire Mansion

Tap tap tap…

Beneath the Fire Phoenix Valley, light footsteps echoed through rock fissures; three figures, shielded by the Yin-Yang Ruler, swiftly moved through the cramped space, frequently glancing back.

Xie Jinhuan had already obtained the Lingguang Divine Gift; within him, a small warm furnace now stirred, constantly nourishing his body, even making the extreme yang energy within the Phoenix Tomb feel slightly gentler—but at this moment, he felt not the slightest pride.

After all, he had tricked a transcendent of the Immortal Dao; unless the other was a mud Buddha, he would almost certainly come to demand an explanation.

With Lu Yan’s status in Northern Zhou, the three of them were no match; Northern Zhou and Great Qian remained hostile. If caught, even if he escaped death, the opportunity he had swallowed would have to be returned willingly.

Nan Gongye could not fathom how a perfectly good chance had turned into a temple escape, with a Northern Zhou ancestral elder chasing them—suddenly turning the dull treasure hunt into a ghost story. While running, he suggested:

“Why not cut our losses? Landing one is already stroke of luck. If we stay here longer, and Lu Yan comes, even the Yin-Yang Ruler might not save us…”

Bu Yuehua wanted the opportunity, but her life mattered more; she hesitated now:

“The celestial forces here are too strong, and the space too narrow. A master skilled in fire arts could hold this place against ten thousand…”

Xie Jinhuan shook his head: “The location of the opportunity is unpredictable. Even if Lu Yan is cunning, he won’t expect us to snatch one opportunity and then dare seek another. He’ll almost certainly head for the entrance we came through. If we retrace our steps, he’ll block us. We must go straight for the next one—and find another exit.”

The two carefully considered it and found it reasonable. Bu Yuehua asked again:

“Are you certain you can find the next one?”

Xie Jinhuan looked up at the ghost bride floating ahead, leading the way.

Ye Hongshang led the three in frantic flight, also monitoring their rear:

“The next fire source is roughly a hundred li from here.”

Xie Jinhuan turned back: “We can find it. The distance isn’t far. Let’s conserve strength and finish it tonight in one go—quick in, quick out.”

…

Nan Gongye and Bu Yuehua said no more, merely pressed forward in silence, ever alert to movements behind.

Xie Jinhuan navigated the labyrinthine maze guided by the ghost bride; since the fire source must connect to the outside world, they couldn’t get lost. The hundred-li journey took only half an hour to reach.

The second opportunity’s spawn point was unusual: within a three-zhang-wide cave, two zhang high and semi-circular, naturally formed yet perfectly symmetrical. Cracks ran through the floor, and a golden-red fireball floated at the center, two zhang above ground.

Even the cave walls bore ancient inscriptions—something like “Visited and left my mark”—likely over a thousand years old, left by ancient treasure hunters who, finding this peculiar cave, carved a sign.

Xie Jinhuan found the spot, fearing Lu Yan’s wrathful pursuit, had no interest in admiring relics. He asked:

“Who goes first? One more opportunity lies thirty li away. After we take it, we can leave.”

Nan Gongye felt eager, but bickering now served no purpose. He feared the demoness might turn on them if she got nothing, so he turned his head aside:

“Hurry up.”

Bu Yuehua had been about to whisper: “Nan Gong sister, you don’t want Qingmo to find out…” But seeing Nan Gongye’s cooperation, she wasted no time. With elegant grace, she bowed slightly, then stepped before the fireball, raising her hands to envelop and refine it with her qi.

The Yin-Yang Ruler’s protective field had been compressed by celestial forces to only a zhang around them; the Lingguang Divine Gift itself lay within the shielded zone. Thus, during refinement, distance had to be precisely managed: the person stood at the edge of the protective area, the fireball kept outside, slowly peeling away the yang fire.

Nan Gongye had maintained the Yin-Yang Ruler for a long time; fatigue inevitably crept in, yet she remained highly alert, standing at the cave entrance, watching for movement in the fissures outside.

Xie Jinhuan stood guard beside her, dual weapons at his waist. Unable to speak to the ghost bride, he edged close to the ice lump, casually brushing the back of his hand against her hip.

?

Nan Gongye’s gaze sharpened. She glanced at the lithe demoness, then her icy eyes widened slightly—a clear warning: mind your boundaries. If you must touch, wait until outside…

Xie Jinhuan had been traveling for five days; he was indeed hungry for the lump—but he knew his limits. He merely kept one hand behind his back, waiting quietly…

—

Meanwhile, deep beneath the earth.

A colossal pillar, forged entirely of purple-gold stone, rose into boundless darkness, inscribed with eight characters:

Zhu Ling Fire Mansion, Burn and Seal the Ancestor.

The characters bore the weight of tens of thousands of years. Golden-red light, thread by thread, flowed from the earth above into the pillar, turning the eight characters—and the vermilion phoenix carvings along its surface—into glowing gold and red, as if living entities suspended in void darkness.

At the topmost groove of the “Zhu” character, a red-haired figure clad in golden armor sat cross-legged, absorbing the five-element spiritual essence within the pillar—looking, somehow, like…

A golden white ant gnawing at the main beam?

Though calling her a mere ant underestimated the armored woman, compared to the colossal purple-gold pillar, the difference was not vast.

The armored woman did not know the pillar’s origin, but like a mortal discovering unclaimed land, she assumed it belonged to her. She had found it first; thus, it was naturally her cultivation cave. This retreat was meant to last a month, ending after the Winter Solstice, when the five-element spiritual essence ceased leaking.

But this retreat was not as smooth as usual. As she meditated quietly, sudden disturbances arose above.

Looking up, she saw three golden-red lines extending from the pillar’s peak into the rock. One had suddenly snapped and vanished.

This was the sign of a spiritual gift being taken by a mortal. She had seen it before; she merely thought this cultivator was unusually swift.

But half an hour later, another spiritual vein gradually faded.

?

The five-element spiritual essence leaking from the Vermilion Phoenix Tomb appeared randomly beneath the thousand-li Fire Phoenix Valley, deep underground, saturated with yang fire. Any detection device failed here, and cultivators struggled to use their powers. They had to frequently return to the surface to replenish their qi seas. Thus, securing one opportunity was divine favor; consecutive gains had never occurred.

Yet from the location and timing of the vanished veins, the cultivators above seemed to have taken the first opportunity and immediately rushed to the second—skipping all normal procedures: no surveying, no replenishment, no detours.

It felt as if they were following a map to find opportunities…

Who in the heavens are they…?

The armored woman frowned, pondered briefly, then rose and ascended the pillar until she reached beneath the rock layer. She slipped through a fissure and followed the fading spiritual vein until she arrived beneath a chasm.

Here, the five-element spiritual essence had become invisible to the naked eye, yet golden-red flames flickered above through the rock fissures.

The armored woman gazed upward from over a hundred zhang away. Through the cracks, she faintly saw a serene, dignified face, utterly focused on refining the great opportunity. Nearby stood a man and a woman.

How odd—they were all familiar to her!

The man was the great opportunity she had found three years ago after hearing the “Divine Utterance.” He had yet to repay her—but from their uncanny ability to reach this place, he had clearly found what she had long sought.

The icy female swordsman beside him was a disciple of a former acquaintance. Their past grievances need not be mentioned; ever since encountering that “shorter than a green onion” bandit, she had known no peace.

As for the girl refining the opportunity, she was the mistress of a small mountain village in the Southern Frontier.

For over a decade, the armored woman had trained here. When spiritual essence grew thin, she wandered abroad, sometimes passing by the small village outside the Fire Phoenix Valley.

She first saw the girl when she was just a child, raising poisonous insects and practicing toxins, fleeing from venomous snakes. Later, she grew into a figure resembling a witch.

But once, passing by, she suddenly saw the girl wielding a knife, chopping at a wooden post.

She paid no mind at first. But over the next two years, each time she passed, she found the girl persistently training in martial arts—and making progress. Curious, she descended to ask why.

She learned the girl’s father had been murdered; she must shoulder her sect’s burdens. But poison witches lacked direct combat power, and she refused to study corpse witchcraft to raise puppets. So she resolved to “cultivate both witchcraft and martial arts,” becoming a patriarch who mastered both inner and outer paths.

Witch-martial cultivation, blending immortals and buddhas, was universally recognized as brutal. The two paths reinforced each other, granting supreme output alongside formidable physicality.

Yet few practiced it, for efficiency was low; the two paths were nearly incompatible. One had to fully traverse the martial artist’s body refinement techniques and the witch’s poison-casting and soul-casting rituals—yet the result was merely parity against peers of equal realm. Even if one mastered all five schools, a first-rank cultivator could never challenge a transcendent who specialized in one path.

Thus, cultivators typically focused on one path to reach higher realms, only later broadening their knowledge when they hit a wall. The most famous example was Shang Lianbi.

Seeing the girl’s determination and ambition, the armored woman casually offered a few pointers and taught her a sword form. On subsequent visits, she secretly aided her—such as alerting her when Phoenix Feathers sprouted, so she could claim them before someone else did; or collapsing the ground to guide her to the Phoenix Tomb’s entrance…

She never revealed herself because during the Witch Cult upheaval, she had “martyred herself.” Her power had not yet recovered; she could only quietly nurture herself here. If her enemies learned she still lived, they would surely kick her while down—or that “shorter-than-a-green-onion” bandit would seize the chance to rob her…

…

Now, seeing Xie Jinhuan, transformed in appearance, leading two girls above in search of opportunities, the armored woman felt deeply satisfied.

After all, she too had once been forced to team up with the “Shorter-than-a-Green-Onion Old Demon,” hunting demons—exactly like this: find paths through mountains, bridges over rivers, no need for brains, just follow and charge.

She had always desired such ability, yet never attained it. Now that Xie Jinhuan possessed this foundation, once he reached Northern Zhou, he would surely sweep forward like a storm, helping her resolve many troubles.

Though she had heard rumors of his deeds, she had never witnessed his true strength—could he rival the legendary “Shorter-than-a-Green-Onion Old Demon”?

Thinking of this, the armored woman scanned her surroundings, then turned her gaze toward the earth’s surface…

(End of Chapter)