Chapter 1: His Astonishing Perseverance Had No Audience

The sun hung high in the sky, scattering its light and heat impartially upon the world below. It favored neither old nor young, noble nor lowly. Its boundless love resembled indifference.

A young deer waded through a stream while birds darted through the forest.

At first, all that could be seen was a dim red point of light glowing on the horizon. In the blink of an eye, it drew near.

Its flaming tail stretched into a line of fire, like the brushstroke of a divine being slashing across the heavens.

The thousands of miles of mountains and rivers belonging to Zhuang Country were nearly scorched by that streak of fire when suddenly, a black light shot into the sky and blocked its path.

A cold and merciless connection formed between heaven and earth as origin energy surged violently. In all directions, east, south, west, north sinister killing energy abruptly linked together!

This corner of the sky in the northeast of Zhuang Country became shrouded in dark clouds.

Daylight suddenly dimmed.

A muffled grunt rang through the air.

“Nine Fiends Profound Yin!”

The point of light tangled with the fiend clouds only briefly before plummeting from the sky.

It fell faster and faster, growing larger and larger until finally.

It screamed downward like a falling star!

…

The wilderness outside Maple Forest City was desolate and devoid of people. Only a tiny Daoist temple stood there, long since abandoned and crumbling.

Boom!

The flaming light crashed into the ground, blasting out an enormous crater. Yet some kind of force restrained the impact, preventing the aftershock from spreading. As the rolling smoke and dust dispersed, a man in flaming robes appeared.

His brows were sharp as blades, his features handsome and heroic. His crimson flame robes were elegant and ancient in style, radiating nobility. But now his hair was disheveled and cracks marred his robes, revealing a trace of embarrassment.

“To think that I, Zuo Guanglie, would die in this kind of backwater place…”

His gaze shifted, instantly understanding his surroundings. With an indescribable melancholy, he asked, “What is the name of this place?”

The sudden darkening of the sky and the falling meteor had already terrified the few beggars sheltering in the ruined temple. They were kowtowing frantically outside the temple gates. Hearing the question, one of them finally trembled as he replied, “Imm… Immortal lord, this is the outskirts of Maple Forest City. As for this temple… we… we don’t know its name.”

Zuo Guanglie’s fingers twitched slightly, about to erase these beggars from existence.

This was an age of great conflict, where nations constantly waged war. Yet in recent years, no battle had rivaled the ferocity of the massive Qin-Chu war. Nearly a hundred thousand cultivators had been committed by both sides. The river valley plains at the center of the battlefield had been reduced to barren wasteland, the earth collapsing for hundreds of miles.

As one of the core figures on the defeated side, and especially because he had single-handedly fought through Hangu Pass and nearly reversed the war, being hunted across heaven and earth was only to be expected.

But these beggars were also subjects of Zhuang Country. Zhuang Country had actually dared to secretly aid tyrannical Qin, allowing them to set up a killing formation within their territory…

Every one of these people deserved to die.

But then he closed his hand, extinguishing the spark that had appeared at his fingertips.

“Zuo Guanglie, Zuo Guanglie. Is this truly the measure of your character? Taking your anger out on these pitiful people whom no one cares about?”

After muttering to himself, he sighed.

“You may leave.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, he turned his gaze toward the ink-dark sky. The experts lurking in the shadows and drawing closer like a pack of wolves, those were the people Zuo Guanglie should kill!

The beggars felt as if they had been pardoned from death and scrambled to flee. Only the beggar who had answered earlier hesitated briefly as he looked back into the ruined temple. But one of his companions viciously yanked him sideways.

“Do you want to die?”

The beggars ran desperately, faster than they ever had in their entire lives.

Zuo Guanglie did not look away, though his brows furrowed slightly.

“You’re not taking your companion with you?”

Within the range of his spiritual perception, nothing remained hidden.

The wooden statue of the temple deity had long since disappeared, likely burned by the beggars for firewood. But beneath the offering table lay another beggar child, barely alive and motionless, likely just waiting for death. That was why the earlier beggar had hesitated.

The beggars dared not ignore the words of the mysterious immortal. They immediately swarmed back.

Panting heavily, they ran with all their strength.

But in the eyes of certain beings observing this place, they were no tougher than ants and no faster than snails.

Far too slow.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The sharp whistling sounds rapidly approaching from the horizon…

Countless translucent water arrows flew like locusts, gathered together by some force as they converged toward Zuo Guanglie.

Water-element origin energy churned wildly through this region.

The translucent rain of arrows formed an enormous funnel shape that covered half the sky!

This was one of the Qin military’s signature large-scale offensive dao techniques, Ten Thousand Streams Arrow Rain.

“They’ve arrived!”

Zuo Guanglie raised his head to the sky. Fierce winds whipped his flaming robes and long hair as he lifted his right hand high overhead. The wide sleeve of his crimson robe slid down, revealing an arm carved like flawless jade.

Pale yet powerful.

A red sphere of light was born in his palm, erupting into blinding brilliance the next moment. Intense radiance exploded in all directions.

It was as if Zuo Guanglie had lifted a sun with one hand!

This was a dao technique he had personally created, the art with which he had become famous at the Yellow River Assembly at the age of fifteen.

Blazing Sun!

Countless translucent water arrows refracted the sunlight falling from above into dazzling colors before instantly being dyed crimson.

An incomparably violent and blazing scarlet.

With Zuo Guanglie’s right hand as the center, the sky within a hundred-yard radius turned completely red, instantly annihilating the Arrow Rain.

The scene was so magnificent that it was difficult to notice the faint traces along the edges of the picture.

Before Blazing Sun expanded, countless arrows had already scattered outward. The fleeing beggars collapsed one after another, their bodies riddled with countless holes.

They did not even have the chance to scream before they died.

Life was so fragile.

“Indiscriminate slaughter, is that your dao as well?”

A mocking smile curled Zuo Guanglie’s lips. It was unclear who he was speaking to, but his eyes, bright as stars, gradually turned cold.

“Anyone who dares to hold back while killing Zuo Guanglie is a complete fool.”

A cultivator in black robes patterned with frost descended from the sky.

His face was gaunt and pale.

His narrow eyes stared fixedly at Zuo Guanglie.

“Mere ants matter to you as well?”

As he spoke, the black-robed cultivators descending with him had already sealed off the surroundings, forming hand seals. Eighteen translucent water snakes instantly took shape, shrieking through the air as they lunged at Zuo Guanglie.

Their movements were astonishingly synchronized. From appearance to attack, they wasted not even a single breath.

Under their masterful control, the low-tier dao technique Binding Water Serpent became exceptionally vicious and fierce.

Zuo Guanglie remained expressionless. Pulling his hands apart, he formed a blade of flame in his grasp.

“Gongyang Bai!”

Holding the flaming blade casually, he stepped through the air several times, slicing every approaching water snake cleanly in half.

“If you’ve already brought out the Nine Fiends Profound Yin Formation, why waste both our lives with such boring dao techniques?”

“Boring? You still think…” Gongyang Bai spread apart the hands clasped before him and suddenly thrust them upward. “This is your game?!”

The severed water snake bodies did not dissipate. Instead, they sprang back to life the next moment. Tails grew new heads, half-heads regrew tails.

One became two, two became four…

This was a completely new transformation of Binding Water Serpent, giving the technique entirely new life and vastly broader applications.

It became the Chaotic Water Snake Pit.

Hiss—Hiss—Hiss—

The sounds were shrill and maddening.

The densely packed vicious water snakes surrounded Zuo Guanglie completely. As far as the eye could see, there was not a single gap.

But the chaotic hissing could not drown out his clear and resolute voice.

“Ying Wu was willing to deploy even the Nine Fiends Profound Yin Formation. I ought to die. But this ruined temple doesn’t even have a name… How can a nameless place be worthy of burying me, Zuo Guanglie?!”

Flames suddenly erupted from Zuo Guanglie’s body.

They burned fiercely, clawing wildly.

The fire ignited anything it touched, spreading from point to line in an instant.

At seventeen years old, he had used this Wildfire technique to burn thousands of yin demons to death, shaking the frontier wastelands with his might!

The entire Chaotic Water Snake Pit burst into flames. Countless water snakes struggled and hissed amidst the fire before turning into steam.

Through the shrieking steam, Zuo Guanglie shot into the sky. His long hair danced wildly, his aura violent and overwhelming.

At that very moment, a sharp eagle cry rang out!

A giant black eagle swooped down from high above. Facing Zuo Guanglie directly, it suddenly beat its wings.

Hundreds of metallic feathers carrying blade light screamed through the air. Every streak of blade light was a different saber technique, some fierce, some sinister, yet all perfectly unified.

The blade rain poured down like a storm, forcing Zuo Guanglie back into the Snake Pit.

A Mo School mechanical beast, Blade Feather Eagle.

Standing atop the eagle was a barefoot man wearing a mask and carrying a bronze box on his back. He stood amidst the wind in silence.

Or perhaps his words were already contained within those blade lights.

Supported by the Nine Fiends Profound Yin Formation, the countless snakes continued to multiply endlessly. The Wildfire technique lacked endurance and was gradually being neutralized.

Defense would eventually fail. Water snakes constantly tore wounds into Zuo Guanglie’s body, spraying blood into the air. At most, he merely grunted, swinging his flaming blade with one hand to drive back only the snakes targeting his vital points.

Ten thousand snakes devouring the flesh, Profound Yin carving the soul.

Such agony was beyond what ordinary people could endure.

Yet with one hand forming seals and the other wielding his blade, Zuo Guanglie did not slow down in the slightest.

Though veins already bulged across his forehead!

Gongyang Bai interlocked his fingers before his chest as his hair fluttered without wind.

“Zuo Guanglie, surrender now and at least your corpse can be returned whole to your homeland!”

The temperature plummeted. Frost formed across his brows. The entire Chaotic Water Snake Pit instantly froze into an icy prison.

This was the secret art of the prestigious Gongyang Clan of Qin, Profound Ice Dungeon.

Anyone trapped within this dungeon would have frost forming with one breath, blood freezing with two breaths, and the body stiffening into death with three breaths.

The water snakes froze into ice snakes. Frost also spread over Zuo Guanglie’s body.

Gongyang Bai watched silently.

The next breath would freeze his blood.

But then…

He suddenly heard the roar of surging rivers, like furious tidal waves crashing endlessly forward.

That was the sound of Zuo Guanglie’s blood racing through his veins!

How could mighty rivers freeze beneath winter frost?

The violent upheaval of his blood seemed to explode into an ancient voice, half agony and half fanaticism…

“Boil Blood! Burn Soul!”

His flaming robes burned. His long hair burned. His brows and eyes burned. His flesh and blood burned. His soul… burned!

Body and will, life and soul, everything burned.

Whether the water snakes or the profound ice, all shattered instantly. Amid the billowing steam, Zuo Guanglie stood engulfed in flames.

Lowering his head, he looked at his blazing hand as though feeling the power of this forbidden imperial technique.

Then he suddenly looked toward the Blade Feather Eagle in the sky!

The moment their eyes met, the iron-masked man decisively plummeted downward.

That precious Blade Feather Eagle instantly burned into ashes!

Zuo Guanglie crossed his hands, and clusters of flame blossoms bloomed across the sky, spreading into a sea of fire in an instant.

Blazing flames scorched both heaven and earth.

Even the fiend clouds gathered high in the sky by the Nine Fiends Profound Yin Formation seemed to become fuel for the flames!

This Flame Blossom Burning City technique was arguably Zuo Guanglie’s greatest genius creation. At nineteen, he had used it to destroy an entire city in one battle!

Flame blossoms possessed ultimate beauty, and ultimate power.

As the iron-masked man fell, he spread both hands wide. Every finger connected to translucent strings that extended into the bronze box on his back.

He yanked sharply.

Puppet Crows!

His fingers danced like blooming flowers as countless puppet crows flew from the bronze box toward the flame blossoms. Each puppet crow extinguished one blossom, but the blossoms seemed endless while the crows were finite.

Ignoring the backlash from his shattered Profound Ice Dungeon, Gongyang Bai pressed a finger against his chin and abruptly opened his mouth. Vast white frost mist poured from within, extinguishing flame blossoms wherever it reached.

The Gongyang Clan bloodline secret art, Breath Becoming Frost.

The eighteen black-robed cultivators he had brought also formed hand seals simultaneously.

The white steam produced by the collision of flame blossoms and frost gathered high above into clouds.

Then suddenly, torrential rain poured down with piercing shrieks.

The combined technique of the eighteen cultivators, Violent Rain Beads!

Flame blossoms, frost, and torrential rain coexisted briefly in the air, forming a magnificent spectacle.

Within that scene, the handsome man in flaming robes suddenly threw back his head and roared.

“Supreme flame power, burn the heavens and boil the seas! Ancestor Zhurong, descend into my body!”

Inside him, a gentle flame utterly different from all others suddenly expanded.

Merely this slight expansion caused the flying crows to ignite, the dark clouds to disperse, and the torrential rain to vanish!

In an instant, it overwhelmed all sights and sounds.

Gongyang Bai’s expression changed drastically.

“Where did he get a Zhurong Seed?! How is it possible for him to invoke the True Body of Zhurong?!”

“This is Zuo Guanglie…” The iron-masked man unfolded a pair of mechanical metal wings behind him, hovering beside Gongyang Bai. His voice was equally grave. “The man who nearly fought through Hangu Pass by himself!”

Within the infinitely expanding fire-element power, flames burned from all seven of Zuo Guanglie’s orifices.

“Come!”

“Mo Jingyu!”

“Gongyang Bai!”

With a casual wave, fiery flood dragons tore through the sky, forcing Gongyang Bai and the others to retreat repeatedly.

“What prestigious clans? What noble families? What geniuses? How dare you boast before me?!”

It seemed the Zhurong Seed had driven him mad, scorching away his sanity as his emotions raged wildly.

“The shame of family and hatred of nation cannot be washed away even by rivers and seas!”

The River Valley battle had already been lost. He seemed to hear the cries of countless households in Chu Country.

And amidst the flames, he thought he saw his father, who had died in battle when he was fourteen…

As if saying something to him.

Saying… what?

Zuo Guanglie laughed wildly, laughed until tears flowed from his eyes, only for them to evaporate instantly.

“My splendid head is right here. Who dares to take it?”

Behind him appeared the faint shadow of a supreme deity holding a fire dragon.

He had finally burned away everything and merged into the flames themselves.

“Only I may kill my body. Only Zhurong may burn my soul!”

At last, all emotion vanished from his blazing crimson eyes.

Only the coldest killing intent remained, directed at those surrounding him.

“Die!”

Mo Jingyu reached behind his back, intending to open the bronze box he carried and unleash his final life-saving trump card. But his hand trembled uncontrollably, unable to muster any strength at all.

Within his spiritual perception, there was no wilderness, no ruined temple, not even another human being.

There was only fire. Endless waves of flames.

The violent fire nearly distorted space itself and almost burned away his very thoughts.

Before such overwhelming power, what difference was there between him and those dead beggars from before?

…

Far on the horizon, a streak of cold light came from the west.

Merely glimpsing it from the corner of his eye made Gongyang Bai feel as if his eyes had been cut apart!

There was no time to investigate. In the instant he noticed it, the cold light had already reached Zuo Guanglie, circling past him in a flash!

Zuo Guanglie’s roar abruptly stopped.

“So noisy.”

A young man dressed in white suddenly appeared.

His face was incomparably cold and sharp. Standing sideways, he seemed forever distant from the rest of the world.

Slowly, he sheathed his sword. His voice was equally calm, without the slightest fluctuation.

Zuo Guanglie’s head suddenly fell, rolling twice across the ground. But because he had used Boil Blood Burn Soul, not a single drop of blood sprayed out.

Only then did the deafening shriek explode through the sky like thunder!

It was the sound of the white-clothed man’s sword slicing through the heavens from the west!

…

Gongyang Bai and Mo Jingyu exchanged glances, both seeing immense shock in each other’s eyes.

“Li Yi, under the orders of Prince Ying Wu, I—”

But Gongyang Bai stopped speaking midway. Immediately, he grabbed Zuo Guanglie’s head and fled into the distance.

Because the white-clothed man had already turned his gaze toward him.

His hair, brows, eyes, even the corners of his lips were all as sharp as swords. Yet his gaze itself was calm to the point of gentleness.

Within that gentleness, however, lurked a chilling indifference.

Whether they were geniuses of the ancient Mo School or descendants of the world’s greatest clans.

No one dared ask why.

No one dared say another word.

…

Zuo Guanglie had died, yet the Zhurong Seed within him had not dissipated. It continued expanding slowly.

This power was never something the exhausted Zuo Guanglie could truly control. He had merely been a catalyst, a medium. Through his genius and determination, he had allowed the mighty power of Zhurong’s True Body to vent itself briefly into this world.

The white-clothed man produced a black command token and silently watched it.

After a long silence, a domineering voice emerged from the token.

“We’re even.”

The moment the words ended, the extraordinary token shattered instantly into countless black fragments, slipping through Li Yi’s fingers and scattering to the ground.

Only after every cultivator had left and the token had crumbled did Li Yi tilt his head slightly toward the expanding Zhurong Seed.

He extended one pale, slender hand, curling his fingers into a pocket-like shape.

Only now, when no one could possibly notice, did a trace of childlike innocence appear beneath his usual indifference and calm.

Softly, he said.

“Boom.”

The instant his fingers opened was exactly when the Zhurong Seed exploded.

An invisible force restrained the explosion, preventing it from spreading outward. It only blasted Zuo Guanglie’s corpse into countless chunks of flesh.

Scarlet flame blossoms bloomed brilliantly within that tiny space, reaching supreme splendor in a single instant.

This ultimate beauty existed for his eyes alone.

The corners of Li Yi’s lips lifted faintly, though the expression vanished in an instant.

The fireworks were over.

Without even glancing at what remained of Zuo Guanglie’s corpse, and without the slightest attachment, he transformed into sword light and vanished.

…

From beginning to end, throughout the battle outside the nameless ruined temple, not a single person paid any attention to the temple itself.

To powerful cultivators, weak Zhuang Country was scarcely worth a glance. And among the three thousand miles of Zhuang Country, Maple Forest City was insignificant as dust. Even within tiny Maple Forest City, this ruined temple in the wilderness had long since been forgotten.

But there was not no one inside that broken temple.

There was a beggar child on the verge of death.

He had already prepared himself to die and was merely waiting for it, yet he had not died. From beginning to end, he had “listened” to that magnificent battle.

When the battle ended and silence returned—

He was still alive.

Perhaps he was fortunate, but fortune was such an ill-fitting word for him. His ragged clothes, his emaciated and sickly appearance, even his faint and drifting breaths, all defined the meaning of misfortune.

But he was still alive.

After thinking for a moment, he struggled to roll out from beneath the offering table.

Clenching his teeth, he used every ounce of strength he had to slowly, shakily stand up.

Yet stand up he did.

From the offering table to outside the temple was one hundred and thirty-seven steps.

From the temple gate to Zuo Guanglie’s corpse was three hundred and twenty-four steps.

The beggar silently counted every step he dragged himself forward, constantly telling himself that he was almost there.

Almost there.

Every muscle in his body protested and trembled.

No one knew where he found the strength to keep moving.

His astonishing perseverance had no audience.

Now he stood before Zuo Guanglie’s corpse. This arduous journey had finally reached its end.

If that pile of mangled flesh could still be called a corpse.

Slowly, very slowly, he crouched down. Crouching was too exhausting, so he simply sat on the ground.

He truly was gravely ill. Beneath the grime obscuring his features, one could still see the pale color of weakness.

Even his hands trembled.

Trembling as they searched through the pile of flesh.

Chunks of meat. Chunks of meat. Bone fragments. Some shattered metal. More flesh. Finger bones. Half a piece of unrecognizable wood…

A bottle!

Pushing aside a lump of mangled flesh beyond recognition, he found half of a jade bottle!

The mouth of the bottle had been blown away entirely, leaving only half the body intact.

Suppressing his rough breathing, the beggar carefully lifted the jade bottle before him.

Very carefully, he removed a chunk of flesh blocking the opening and looked inside.

At the bottom of the bottle, he saw a single remaining pill, dark, round, and glossy.

His breathing stopped.

He recognized it.

It was the Meridian Opening Pill he had dreamed of day and night, the one he had once possessed and then lost.

(End of Chapter)