“Very well, boy! For one thousand years, I have never set eyes upon one welcomes Death as much as you! Very well, I yield!”
Li Xie, in the guise of a young boy, appeared out of nowhere, his lips curling into a crooked smile. With a wave of his arm, the Flames of the Southern Vermillion Bird were all magically drawn into the voluminous folds of his sleeves as if a vortex was hidden within his crimson-red robes.
“Congratulations, Young Master Xiao. I must tender my admiration for your skills and so much more for your courage,” Liku Zi’s voice resounded from where he stood. He promptly looked at Yu Wenmu beside him and beckoned, “Let us go now, my boy.”
Zi Mo left the cave quickly with his two companions in tow. With the state of his health failing, Xiao Chen fell into a deep sleep as soon as they had left. It took another further two days of rest until he finally showed signs of recovering.
But he was still slumbering came the morning of the sixth day of the seventh month, his fingers still gripping firmly the hilt of the Sword of the Vermillion Bird. Strangely, the burns that he suffered had fully healed as if nothing had happened before.
Yu Yifeng had never once left his side since he began sleeping, watching him and making sure Xiao Chen was fed water every hour. It was only when the noon sun was hanging proudly over the Flying-cloud Stone when he finally woke up and the first words he uttered were, “Have we got it?! The Flames of the Vermilion Bird!”
Yu Yifeng tossed aside the waterskin he was holding when Xiao Chen sat up and was shocked for seconds before he managed to nod to a bewildered Xiao Chen, “Yep. The Flames are imbued into the Sword you are holding. So is the Formation Spirit Li Xie. Rest easy, my friend.”
Xiao Chen exhaled with relief. He had been having endless nightmares even if he was asleep, assailed by visions of Muxue being consumed by Red Sleeve and at long last becoming the ultimate Corpse King, dishing out death and despair and leaving mounds and hills of slaughtered dead in her wake and the lands bathed by the blood of thousands of massacred innocents…
He lifted the Sword of the Vermilion Bird to his eyes and studied it, his other hand running down the blade with his fingers feeling the edge. He could feel a strong magical power hidden within, resonating with excitement. So this is the sword forged from the fires of the Vermilion Bird, he observed, a weapon with immense powers that could destroy all that is foul and evil. And with this, I’ll be able to wound Red Sleeve.
Then he remembered something. “What day is it now, Brother Yifeng?”
“It’s the sixth day of the month. Rest assured that Martial Uncle Xiaoyao is speeding us back with the fastest speed this Flying-cloud Stone can muster. I’m sure we’ll get back in time.”
Xiao Chen nodded saying nothing as he slowly sank back down, only to spring back up again, “What about Xian’er and the Leopard Cat Spirit? Are they all right?”
Yu Yifeng broke into a smile. “They are all fine. Little Xian’er is gifted. Perhaps even you will be surprised by her skills the next time you meet. As for Zhiluan, he has recovered much of his powers. They are all at Yuqing Mountain, both notorious troublemakers in their own right…”
It was a tender moment for Xiao Chen and for the first time since waking up, he smiled. But the smile faded as quickly as it came as Xiao Chen began to ask for more news and tales about everything that had happened in the lands during the past year. Yu Yifeng frowned and it took him more than a heartbeat before he could answer, “I’m afraid the year has not been kind; more Demonic Flowers have been sighted, followed by a series of strange phenomenons never before seen. A year ago, there came also this powerful stranger, a person who claims to hail from the evil folk. He’s very powerful and he comes and goes like the wind. They say he calls himself Gu Feng…”
The Great Devil Gu Feng!
The name resounded in Xiao Chen’s mind as his memory about the powerful demon Xiao Ning had sealed one millennium ago at the hilly barrows rear of the residence of the Xiao Clan resurfaced, instantly refreshed, vividly nauseating.
With his forehead still curdled and his expression disturbed, Yu Yifeng went on, “What’s more, there have been more and more strangers, all of them formidable mages skilled in magecraft once lost and forgotten, appearing from all corners of the Five Continents. They have been challenging the mages of the Heaven List, seeking to make a name for themselves. No one knows from whence they actually came from. But I am thinking they have been prowling quietly in regions beyond the Five Continents all these while, choosing only to appear now…”
Xiao Chen did not respond, mulling instead on the words regions beyond the Five Continents… It was a phrase he once heard Evernight mentioned before. The Human Realm was divided into many different landmasses when the former age ended and many formed up again into continents. Hence the many different regions that now constituted the present Human Realm.
If the Human World is a Tier-1 Cultivator’s Area and the Domain of the Violet Manor and the Five Continents belongs to the second Tier, is there Tier-3 Areas with greater potential and resources for mages to tap into? It would not be long before the coming of the second stage of the Times of the Annihilation where more powerful and invincible mages would emerge. Who would reign supreme then and who would fall into ruins and be forgotten?
But that was the least of his concerns. At least for now, when Red Sleeve remained the most pressing matter at hand. He needed to save Muxue from the clutches of that evil witch. And quick. It was midnight when the Flying-cloud Stone passed over the Miasma Mountain Range and the party of three finally reached the Ridge of Broken Souls.
The night was silent. So usually still that one would have felt shivers creeping up his back. Not a light was in sight, not even the flicker of a candle or the glowing embers of a burning hearth. Only a pitch-black wall waited before them with dangers lurking about sinisterly.
“Wait!” Zi Mo gasped, his arms outstretched to stop Yu Yifeng and Xiao Chen from advancing. Xiao Chen felt the elder man tensed and his grip on the Sword of the Vermilion Bird tightened anxiously. Something was amiss, he too sensed as Yu Yifeng began making hand seals while reaching over his back for the Startling Rainbow Sword hanging behind him.
Warily, the three men inched closer, prowling like a slinking panther until a sharp voice broke the silence, nearly startling everyone, “Is that Senior Xiaoyao?” Two men emerged from the bushes, clad in mages’ robes.
“Is there only the two of you? What happened to the rest?” Zi Mo grunted, his eyes narrowing with doubt.
The two men quickly scurried over and bowed deeply to him. One of them began to explain, “We found the trails indicating watchers from the other three evil sects following us two nights ago. To prevent anything untoward, Perfected Immortal Feng Lan commanded everyone to withdraw for a further thirty miles. We are charged to wait for you here.”
The other young man cast a look at the Sword in Xiao Chen’s grasp. “Is this the Sword of the Vermilion Bird?” He asked with visible surprise and interest, which earned him a frown from Xiao Chen.
Joined by the two mages, the party of three followed their lead and promptly left the woods. They took into the air, flying as swiftly as they could towards the encampment of the mages of the Orthodox Path thirty miles away.
The campgrounds sat under the craning arch of a cliff overlooking from above. There were already people expecting them and Zi Mo finally felt at ease, satisfied at last that these were not the evil folk in disguise.
Perfected Immortal Feng Lan and a handful of the senior leaders were present when Xiao Chen and his companions finally arrived. The contingent of mages of the Orthodox Path seemed to have grown since the last time Xiao Chen had noticed; the reinforcements must have finally joined up with the main army.
“Have you been successful in recovering the Flames of the Southern Vermilion Bird?”
It was the primary concern of the leaders, the single most influential element in the entire crusade to defeat Red Sleeve and destroy the Corpse Refinery Sect. Zi Mo nodded and asked, “What about the others?” Perfected Immortal Feng Lan revealed a hard and grim look and merely uttered, “You’d best come with me.”
The group of the other senior leaders parted and the Perfected Immortal led Xiao Chen and his companions through them, walking to the far side of the cliff. They were halfway there when twelve figures ran towards them and one of them screamed, “My Lord!”
It was Qingluan and the sight of his trusted subordinate filled Xiao Chen with comfort. He nodded approvingly, “You’ve come. Good.”
“Koo-chee Koo-chee!” Out of nowhere something small and tiny leaped on to him, squirreling up his shoulders and licked affectionately at his face while squawking gently. Xiao Chen giggled, “It’s been a long time, Brother Koo-chee.”
“Wuu… Koo-chee!”
Xiao Chen was pleased to have been reunited with his friends and the people he trusted the most, feeling touched by them waiting here to meet him. He carried Koo-chee off his shoulders and placed him in Ziyun’er’s arms. “I still have business to discuss with the seniors,” he said to them, “Please leave us.”
“Understood, My Lord!”
By now, the girls of the Hidden Fragrance Wafting Under the Moon were all as powerful as any mage of the Nascent Soul Realm. Xiao Chen strolled off then he stopped. Turning back, he asked, “Yes, I’d almost forgotten. What about the Heartless Palace? Any word?”
“Rest assured, all is fine and well with the Heartless Palace, My Lord.”
“Right.” Xiao Chen followed after Zi Mo and the other through the mouth of a cave yawning at the bottom of the cliff. Watching him leave, Koo-chee blinked his eyes wide, staring at his friend who had seemed for a brief moment like a stranger. He moaned with a tinge of sorrow and Ziyun’er caressed him gently, “It’s fine. My Lord is busy now…”
“Wuu! Koo-chee…”
Xiao Chen stepped into the firelight blazing inside the cave and saw more than a dozen men inside. The men stirred and got up at once when they see Zi Mo and the newcomers coming and Xiao Chen could see the grim and stony looks of the men through the pale light. These were all highly-respected leaders of mage schools and sects and among them included Perfected Immortal Qing Chen who had come at once when was bade to, leaving his affairs to Yuheng Zi.
With a wave of his hand, Perfected Immortal Feng Lan cast a barrier at the entrance of the cave to prevent any prying ears. Xiao Chen remained inside, the youngest among everyone inside and all eyes were trained upon him.
Perfected Immortal Qing Chen walked up to him and said gravely, “Xiao Chen, the war council has convened. The offensive on the Corpse Refinery Sect begins tonight. We have also decided to channel a portion of our Mystic Powers into you, just like before. This should help you to control the Flames of the Southern Vermillion Bird. What do you think of this?”
Xiao Chen could feel every pair of eyes burrowing into him. It was a dangerous gambit. More so, when not everyone here trusted him.
“I’ll do it!” Xiao Chen pronounced at once, breathing hard. There was no need for any more doubts or thoughts. Saving Muxue mattered most.
The early hours of dawn came two hours later and the moon was waning in the distant night sky. Xiao Chen, with the Mystic powers fused into him by the dozens of senior leaders of the Orthodox Path, could feel the power of the Apotheosis Realm coursing through his veins. Outside the cave, the army of mages was readying themselves for the attack. It would be as ugly as the invasion before, with many wondering if this would be the final morning for them.
They crept up the cliffs with the cold mountainous breeze howling dangerously by their ears. Qingluan and her girls kept a close distance around Xiao Chen to keep him safe as they moved with the invaders who were following the lead of their elders and senior leaders, moving stealthily under the cloak of the night towards the Summit of Mystics…
Up upon the Summit, the Corpse Refinery Sect was also busy in preparations for battle. The Sect spared no expense, fielding every Corpse Puppet and every acolyte and disciple they have. Every entrance and every gate was under close watch and no leaf of grass moved without being noticed.
Inside the citadel of the Ridge of the Fallen Drake, Elders Wu Fa and Wu Tian were cantering hurriedly in circles, looking positively in distress. The Great Immortal from Hell was also present, looking similarly glum and taciturn. This would be a gritting battle, they knew. The one that would decide the very existence of the Corpse Refinery Sect.
“What of the Rock? How are the defenses there?” Wu Tian spoke.
“I have left the defenses there to Elder Long,” the Great Immortal replied with a worried and uncertain frown on his face, “We must hold on. At least until noon tomorrow. When the shifts of Yin and Yang begin, the Divine Corpse would have finished consuming the Mystic Yin Body by then.”
“Ahhh…” Wu Fa breathed long and deep, “And we’d finally be free of our bondage to that accursed place. What happens next to the Corpse Refinery Sect shall be of no longer concern to us.”
The three men sighed and none said a word. Then footsteps echoed off the walls of the citadel and an acolyte came rushing in, with his voice screaming and trailing in a very long “Report!” He stopped before the Elders and yelped, “We are under attack! It’s a two-pronged attack on the South-west!”
“Calm down!” the Great Immortal thrust an arm and placed a hand on the shoulder of the young man, holding him still, “We must hold the fort!” He had barely finished, when another acolyte rushed in with another report, “The Ridge of Dire Winds has fallen!”
“REPORT! The Cliffs of the Weeping Ghost is under attack!”
In just minutes, seven to eight battle reports came scurrying in, one after another with each grimmer than the rest. Beads of sweat drenched the backs of the three elders. The blitz carried out by the invaders were so quick and decisive; the mages of the Orthodox Path have come prepared. “Hold this place,” the Great Immortal spoke to his two colleagues, “Let me face them in battle!” He vanished, turning into a bolt of light that sped out through the doors like a comet.
Fire and blood were all that could be seen from the top when the Great Immortal finally arrived as the battle waged below where he stood with both sides incurring losses of their own. He dove into the fray, hoping to help drive back the invaders then something caught his eyes. Due South, a huge flash of flames illuminated the blue-black morning sky. A wave of orange and red screamed into the sky like dragons in a dance. From the sky, bursts of magical flames gushed forth and canopied around any Corpse Puppets in the vicinity, leaving only charred flesh and blackened soot when the fires settled.
A man was hovering in mid-air, wielding a sword blazing with three-colored flames. Wherever he pointed his weapon, an inferno would erupt to destroy and incinerate everything in its range. The Great Immortal’s eyes widened with shock and disbelief as if the Apocalypse was upon him as he uttered, “T-the… the Flames of the Southern Vermilion Bird!”