Chapter 1: His Amazing Perseverance Had No Audience

The sun hung high in the heavens, its golden light and warmth pouring down impartially upon the mortal realm, making no distinction between young and old, noble and base. Great love, like the unfeeling Dao.

A young stag waded through a stream, birds soared through the forest.

At first, it was but a dark red speck on the horizon, drawing nearer with terrifying speed.

Its fiery tail painted a line across the sky, as if a divine brush had swept the celestial canvas.

The thousands of miles of Zhuang Kingdom’s mountains and rivers were almost cleaved in two by this streak of fire. Suddenly, a beam of black light shot upwards, blocking its path.

A chill connection formed between heaven and earth, elemental energies surging. East, south, west, north – all killing intent rose and converged!

The northeast corner of Zhuang Kingdom's sky became shrouded in dark clouds.

The bright day was abruptly plunged into twilight.

A muffled groan echoed through the air: "Nine Fiendish Yin!"

The fiery speck entangled with the ominous clouds for but an instant before plummeting from the sky.

Faster and faster it fell, growing ever larger, until at last…

It howled like a falling star!

…

The countryside beyond Maplewood City was seldom visited. There stood only a small Daoist temple, long since fallen into disrepair and abandoned.

"Boom!"

The fiery speck landed, gouging out a vast pit. Yet, it seemed constrained by some unseen force, its aftermath failing to expand outwards. As the billowing smoke and dust dispersed, a man in a flame-patterned robe appeared.

He possessed sword-like brows, a handsome countenance, and his crimson flame robe was embroidered with intricate, ancient patterns, truly extraordinary. However, at this moment, his hair was disheveled, and his robe torn, revealing a hint of his plight.

"To think I, Zuo Guanglie, would perish in such a remote place…" The flame-robed man’s eyes flickered as he took in his surroundings, a sense of inexplicable desolation in his voice. "What is this place called?"

Another abrupt darkening of the day, another falling meteor. The few beggars sheltering within the dilapidated temple were already terrified and bewildered, prostrating themselves before the temple gate. Upon hearing the question, one of them stammered, "Im… Immortal sir, this is the outskirts of Maplewood City. This Daoist temple… I… we do not know its name."

The flame-robed man's fingers twitched, preparing to obliterate these beggars.

In this era of great contention, kingdoms were constantly at war. But in recent years, no conflict had been as intense as the grand allied battle between Qin and Chu. Nearly a hundred thousand cultivators had been deployed by both sides. The river valley plains at the heart of the conflict were scorched earth, the ground sunken for a hundred miles around.

As a central figure of the defeated side, especially one who had single-handedly breached Hangu Pass and almost reversed the tide of battle, it was no surprise he was being hunted.

It was just… these beggars were also denizens of Zhuang Kingdom. Zhuang Kingdom had dared to secretly aid the tyrannical Qin, allowing them to set up arrays and ambush him within its borders… These people should all die.

But Zuo Guanglie flipped his hand, extinguishing the sparks that had appeared at his fingertips.

"Zuo Guanglie, Zuo Guanglie, is this your limit? Venting your anger on these pitiful souls whom no one cares about?"

Zuo Guanglie murmured, then sighed, "Begone."

He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze already fixed upon the ink-stained sky. His enemies were there, those powerful figures hidden in the shadows, closing in like wolves – they were the ones Zuo Guanglie truly wished to slay!

Granted a reprieve, the beggars immediately fled. Only the one who had first spoken hesitated for a moment before the ruined temple, but was roughly pulled away by his companions. "Do you wish to die?"

The beggars sprinted, perhaps never having run with such desperation for themselves in their lives.

Zuo Guanglie did not avert his gaze, but his brows furrowed. "Are you not taking your companion?"

Within the scope of his spiritual sense, there were no secrets.

The wooden statues within the Daoist temple were gone, perhaps burned as firewood by the beggars. But beneath the offering table, a beggar still lay, his life force weak, unmoving, likely awaiting the final moments of his life – this was the reason for the first beggar's hesitation.

Abandoning burdens when fleeing was also human nature. But Zuo Guanglie could not overlook it.

Those who had emerged from the battlefield understood the meaning of companions most deeply. Zuo Guanglie was acutely aware of his nearly depleted body, but he would not forget what had brought him to this point.

The words of the mysterious immortal, the beggars dared not defy, and they swarmed back.

Exerting all their might, gasping for breath.

But in the eyes of those who were fixated on this place, they were no more tenacious than ants, nor a whit faster than snails.

It was truly… too slow!

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

A dense, piercing whistling sound suddenly drew near from the horizon.

Countless translucent water arrows, like a swarm of locusts, converged by some force, shot towards Zuo Guanglie.

Water elemental energy surged wildly in this world.

The translucent arrow rain formed a giant funnel, obscuring half the sky!

This was the Qin military's highly representative large-scale destructive Daoist technique, Ten Thousand Stream Arrow Rain.

"They've arrived!"

Zuo Guanglie looked up at the sky, the strong wind stirring his flame robe and long hair. He raised his right hand, and the wide sleeves of his crimson flame robe slipped, revealing an arm carved like jade.

Fair and powerful.

A sphere of crimson light formed in his palm, and in the next moment, a brilliant radiance burst forth. Intense light radiated in all directions.

It was as if Zuo Guanglie, with a single hand, held up a sun!

This was his unique Daoist technique, created at the age of fifteen. With this technique, he had become famous at the Yellow River Gathering.

Scorching Sun!

Countless translucent water arrows refracted the sunlight falling from the sky into a myriad of colors. In the next instant, they were dyed red.

That was a raging, intensely scorching fiery red!

With Zuo Guanglie's right hand as the center, the sky within a hundred feet was enveloped in crimson, and the Ten Thousand Stream Arrow Rain was emptied.

This scene was so magnificent that it was difficult for anyone to notice the faint ink marks at the edge of the painting.

Before the Scorching Sun expanded, the innumerable arrow rain had already veered off and fallen. The group of fleeing beggars fell one after another, their corpses riddled with holes.

They didn't even have a chance to cry out before they were dead.

Life was so fragile.

"Indiscriminate slaughter, is that also your Dao?" Zuo Guanglie's mouth curled into a sneer, and he didn't know to whom he was speaking. But a pair of eyes shining like stars was gradually overcast with a cold emotion.

"Anyone who dares to hold back when killing Zuo Guanglie is a complete fool." Along with the cold voice, a group of black-robed cultivators landed, faintly sealing off all directions.

The leading cultivator had a gaunt face and pale skin. The black robe had frost patterns embroidered on the hem.

He had a pair of long, narrow eyes, and he stared intently at Zuo Guanglie. "Mere ants, are they also within your sight?"

As he spoke, the black-robed cultivators who had arrived with him had already begun to form hand seals. Their movements were surprisingly consistent, as if carved from the same mold.

A total of eighteen translucent water snakes suddenly materialized, whistling and roaming in the air, biting towards Zuo Guanglie.

From appearance to action, not a moment was wasted.

The low-level Daoist technique, Binding of the Snake, was especially sharp and ferocious under their masterful manipulation.

Zuo Guanglie remained expressionless, pulled his hands apart, and a flame knife formed in his palm.

"Gongyang Bai."

He casually held the flame knife, spun in the air a few times, and then sliced the approaching water snakes into two halves.

For a Daoist technique of the level of the flame knife, he no longer needed to make a hand seal at all.

"Since you've even brought out the Nine Fiendish Yin Array, why waste both my and your lives with this boring Daoist technique!"

"Please don't misunderstand…" Gongyang Bai spread the hands he had clasped in front of him, and suddenly raised them. "My respect!"

The bodies of the water snakes that had fallen to the ground, not only did not disappear, but in the next moment, they all leaped up, their tails connecting to their heads.

Dividing into two, two dividing into four… Under the influence of the Nine Fiendish Yin Array, these water snakes became even more ferocious.

This was a brand-new transformation of Binding of the Snake, never seen before. It could be said that it gave Binding of the Snake a new lease on life, allowing this Daoist technique a wider range of applications. It was clearly the result of the Qin military's painstaking research.

It was the Turbulent Water Snake Den.

Hiss~ Hiss~ Hiss~

The sound was harsh, irritating to the heart.

The dense, hideous water snakes surrounded Zuo Guanglie. As far as the eye could see, it was as if he was trapped in an endless snake den!

He seemed to be in dire straits.

But his voice still rang out, clear and resolute.

"Ying Wu is willing to use the Nine Fiendish Yin Array; I should die. But this ruined temple doesn't even have a name… How can this nameless place be worthy of burying me, Zuo Guanglie!?"

Flames suddenly erupted from his body.

Burning fiercely, with teeth and claws.

This fire ignited upon contact, forming lines, and instantly spreading.

The fire-element Daoist technique, Prairie Fire.

At the age of seventeen, with this technique, he had burned thousands of evil demons, shaking the wilderness!

The entire Turbulent Water Snake Den burned, countless water snakes struggling and screaming in the flames, turning into vapor.

In the steaming, howling vapor, Zuo Guanglie soared into the sky, his long hair flying, his aura violent.

At this moment, the cry of an eagle suddenly rose!

A black giant eagle swooped down from the sky, facing Zuo Guanglie directly, its wings suddenly flapping.

Hundreds of iron feathers, carrying the light of blades, whistled through the air. Each blade of light was a different blade style, either ferocious or sinister.

The blade light was like a torrential rain, pouring down, slashing Zuo Guanglie back into the snake den.

Mechanical Beast · Blade Feather Eagle.

On the eagle's back, a man with a mask covering his face, a copper box on his back, and bare feet, stood against the wind and remained silent. Or perhaps, his words were already contained within the blade light.

With the support of the Nine Fiendish Yin Array, the ten thousand snakes grew wildly, constantly giving birth to new ones. The Prairie Fire technique could not be sustained, and was slowly dispelled.

After a long defense, there would inevitably be a mistake. The water snakes continuously inflicted wounds upon Zuo Guanglie's body, bringing forth splashes of blood. Zuo Guanglie at most groaned, wielded the flame knife with one hand, and only drove back the water snakes attacking his vital points.

Ten thousand snakes devoured the body, and the Yin devoured the soul.

From his bulging forehead, one could see the extent of his pain, but his eyes were resolute, and his other hand was still forming a hand seal.

He never gave up for a moment!

Gongyang Bai glanced at the man on the eagle's back and no longer hesitated. He interlaced his fingers, raised them in front of him, and his long hair moved without wind. "Surrender now, and you can still have a complete body sent back to your homeland! Because… the power of this Daoist technique, I cannot control it either!"

The temperature suddenly plummeted, and a wisp of frost condensed on his eyebrows. The entire Turbulent Water Snake Den stagnated, covered by a layer of solid ice.

This was extreme cold, impenetrable and indestructible, the extreme cold of the frozen earth.

And this Daoist technique was the unrevealed secret technique of the renowned Gongyang family of Qin, driven by bloodline power, the Ice Cellar.

Those who entered this cellar would condense frost with one breath, freeze blood with two, and stiffen the body with three.

The water snakes froze into ice snakes, and Zuo Guanglie was also covered in frost.

Gongyang Bai silently watched all this. In the next breath, the blood would freeze.

But!

Everyone present suddenly heard the sound of a surging river, a torrent-like surge – that was Zuo Guanglie's blood rushing!

"Boil! Blood! Burn! Soul!"

The flame robe was burning, the long hair was burning, the eyebrows and eyes were burning, the flesh and blood were burning, the soul… was burning!

Body and will, life and soul, everything was burning.

The ice melted, the water flowed. Whether it was the Turbulent Water Snake Den or the Ice Cellar, they collapsed in an instant. In the white mist, Zuo Guanglie had already become a man of fire.

He looked down at his hand, burning fiercely, and murmured, "As expected of a royal forbidden technique. In this kind of power, I seem to see… the true meaning of fire."

Then he suddenly looked at the Blade Feather Eagle in the sky. "Too weak."

As soon as the words fell, he appeared in mid-air.

The masked man, with bare feet, tapped his toes, and the whole person fell in a backward posture, allowing the precious Blade Feather Eagle to be destroyed by the raging flames!

"Too weak, Mo Jingyu!" Zuo Guanglie crossed his hands, and the Daoist technique was instantly complete.

Flame flowers, as if born from nothing, yet endless. The entire sky was occupied by the flames. The sky, the earth, and everything within the battle space were burning fiercely.

Even the ominous clouds that the Nine Fiendish Yin Array had condensed high in the sky seemed to become fuel for the flames!

Flame Flower Burning City!

This Daoist technique could be said to be Zuo Guanglie's most ingenious creation. At the age of nineteen, he had broken through a city with this technique!

Flame flowers, exquisitely beautiful, yet possessing extreme power.

The man named Mo Jingyu spread his hands in a backward flight, his ten fingers extended, each connected to a translucent silk thread. The other end of the silk thread connected to the copper box, and he suddenly pulled!

Puppet Crows!

His ten fingers were like needles, and the puppet crows flew out of the box in a dense swarm, charging towards the flame flowers. Each crow would extinguish a flame flower, but the flame flowers seemed endless, and the number of crows flying out decreased.

Gongyang Bai could not care about the backlash of breaking the Ice Cellar. He pinched a hand seal, pressed his index finger against his chin, and suddenly opened his mouth! White, vast cold mist gushed out, and where it flowed, the flame flowers were annihilated.

Bloodline secret technique, Breath into Frost!

The group of Daoists he had brought also did not hesitate, forming hand seals together.

The water vapor generated by the collision of flame flowers and frost in the air gathered high in the sky at a speed visible to the naked eye. The white vapor gathered into clouds. Then the white clouds turned overcast, and clouds led clouds, stacking upon clouds.

Suddenly, a torrential rain, whistling through the air.

Gathering Qi, Accumulating Clouds, and Overcast Clouds Stacking, a combination of three Daoist techniques, thus creating this torrential rain!

"Too weak…" Zuo Guanglie, his body burning with flames, roared, "Too weak!"

His aura exploded, growing with each beat. The oppressive force was like a collapsing mountain.

In the sea of fire, he howled at the sky: "Extreme flame power, burn the heavens and boil the sea, Zhu Rong's true ancestor, enter my body!"

Within his body, a point of gentle fire light, different from the others, suddenly expanded.

Just this expansion caused the sky crows to self-ignite! The ominous clouds scattered suddenly!

The cultivators surrounding Zuo Guanglie vomited blood one after another.

Even Gongyang Bai's face turned pale. "How is that possible! Where did he get the Zhu Rong seed! And how could he possibly urge the true form of Zhu Rong?"

"This is Zuo Guanglie…" Mo Jingyu severed the connection with the puppet crows in time. At this moment, he spread a pair of mechanical iron wings on his back and hovered beside Gongyang Bai, his voice also becoming serious and hard to shake off. "A figure who almost killed through Hangu Pass with his own strength!"

In this tremendous, infinitely expanding fire-elemental power, Zuo Guanglie roared, "Who is qualified to kill me!"

"Come on! Mo Jingyu!"

"Gongyang Bai!"

He waved his hand, and a fire dragon tore through the sky, forcing Gongyang Bai, Mo Jingyu, and others to continuously retreat.

"What renowned families! Clans! Geniuses! In front of me, do you still dare to presume? You group of weaklings, cowards, incompetents!"

He seemed to be driven mad by the Zhu Rong seed, losing his mind.

"The shame of the family and the hatred of the country, the rivers and seas are difficult to wash away!"

He laughed, laughed until tears flowed, but the tears were instantly scorched dry.

"A good head here, who can cut it off?"

"Only I can kill my body, and only Zhu Rong can burn my soul!"

Behind him, there was a vague phantom of a god with supreme authority and holding a fire dragon, and the powerful pressure made people suffocate.

"Who can kill me?!"

Mo Jingyu put his hands behind him, wanting to lift the copper box on his back and use his final means of self-preservation. But his hands kept trembling, and he didn't have any extra strength to lift the lid of the box at all.

In his spiritual sense, there was no countryside, no ruined temple, not even anyone. There was only fire, and only endless flame waves. The soaring temperature almost distorted space, and almost incinerated his thoughts.

Before such a powerful force, what was the difference between him and those dead beggars before?

…

On the horizon, there was a cold light, coming from the west.

Gongyang Bai only caught a glimpse of this scene with his peripheral vision, and he had the illusion that his eyes were cut! He didn't have time to investigate, because at the very instant he saw it, that cold light had reached Zuo Guanglie's front and circled around him!

Zuo Guanglie's roar came to an abrupt end.

"So noisy."

A young man in white suddenly appeared.

He had an extremely cold face, standing sideways, as if always keeping his distance from the world.

He slowly returned his sword to its sheath, his voice so flat it held not the slightest fluctuation.

Zuo Guanglie's head fell abruptly, rolling twice on the ground. But because he had used the Blood Burning Soul, not a single drop of blood could spray out.

It wasn't until this moment that the piercing, thunderous screeching finally rang out in the air!

That was the sound of the white-robed man, with a sword from the west, cleaving through the sky!

…

Gongyang Bai and Mo Jingyu looked at each other, and both saw a huge shock in each other's eyes.

"Li Yi, I am under the order of Ying Wu Hall…"

But Gongyang Bai only spoke to this point and stopped, not having time to finish speaking at all. In the next moment, he picked up Zuo Guanglie's head and turned to fly away.

Because the white-robed man had already turned his gaze towards him.

His hair, his eyebrows, his eyes, and even the corners of his lips, were as sharp as a sword. His gaze was so flat that it was almost tepid.

But this tepidness carried a chilling indifference.

Whether it was a genius from the ancient sacred halls and hundred families, or the famous bloodlines of the world.

No one dared to ask why, and no one dared to say another word.

Only a series of fleeing figures.

…

Zuo Guanglie was dead, but the Zhu Rong seed within his body did not dissipate and was still slowly expanding.

This power was simply not something the exhausted Zuo Guanglie could control. He was only a catalyst, a medium, and with his genius and determination, he allowed a trace of the vast power of the true form of Zhu Rong to be released momentarily in this world.

The white-robed man shook out a black token and watched silently.

The black token was silent for a long time, and then a domineering voice rang out, "Two clear."

As soon as the voice fell, the extraordinary material token, as if unable to withstand this voice, instantly shattered into countless black crumbs, slipping through Li Yi's fingers, rustling down.

It wasn't until all the Daoists had left, and the token in his hand had also shattered, that Li Yi slightly tilted his head and looked at the expanding Zhu Rong seed.

He stretched out a thin, slender white hand, his five fingers forming a cupped shape.

It wasn't until this moment, when no one could pay attention, that he, in his usual tepidness and indifference, revealed a childlike innocence.

He gently called out: "Boom!"

At the same time his five fingers opened, it was precisely when the Zhu Rong seed exploded.

An invisible force bound this explosion, preventing it from spreading, and only exploded Zuo Guanglie's corpse into countless pieces of flesh.

Crimson flame flowers bloomed freely in the small world, extremely brilliant for a moment, containing splendor in one direction.

This extreme beauty was only for him to appreciate alone.

Li Yi's mouth curved slightly, but it was immediately restrained.

The fireworks were over.

He didn't even look to see what Zuo Guanglie's corpse had left behind, and he didn't have the slightest nostalgia. With a flash of his sword light, he was instantly far away.

…

From beginning to end, in the battle that took place outside this nameless, ruined temple, no one cast a single glance inside.

To the powerful cultivators, it was difficult to pay attention to the weak Zhuang Kingdom. To the three thousand miles of the Zhuang Kingdom, Maplewood City was also as small as dust. And even to the small Maplewood City itself, this ruined temple in the countryside had long been forgotten.

But there was someone in this dilapidated Daoist temple.

That was a dying beggar, already only awaiting death.

He had already prepared to die and was waiting for it, but he was not dead, and from beginning to end, he "heard" this brilliant battle.

When the battle ended, everything returned to silence.

He was still alive.

He was either lucky, but the word lucky was so discordant with him. His ragged clothes, his gaunt, sick face, and even his almost detached breathing were all explaining the definition of misfortune.

But he was, after all, still alive.

He thought for a moment, and with difficulty, he rolled over, and rolled out from under the offering table.

He gritted his teeth, and used all his strength, and with difficulty, he swayed and stood up.

He did stand up after all.

From the offering table to outside the Daoist temple, there were a total of one hundred and thirty-seven steps.

From the door of the Daoist temple to Zuo Guanglie's corpse, there were a total of three hundred and twenty-four steps.

The beggar silently counted his steps, and kept telling himself, it's almost there.

It's almost there.

Every muscle in his body was protesting and trembling.

No one knew where the strength to make him move came from.

His amazing perseverance, without an audience.

Now he stood in front of Zuo Guanglie's corpse, and this trek finally came to an end—if that pile of shredded flesh could still be called a corpse.

He slowly, slowly squatted down. Squatting was too strenuous, so he simply sat down.

He was really very ill. From those stains that made his face unrecognizable, he could still see the pale, sickly white.

His hand was also trembling.

Trembling, rummaging through that pile of shredded flesh, rummaging.

Shredded flesh, shredded flesh, bone shards, broken metal, shredded flesh, finger bones, a half-skeleton of wood that couldn't be recognized…

A bottle!

He turned over that mass of unrecognizable flesh and blood and found this jade bottle, which was only half.

The bottle mouth part was all blown away, leaving only half of the bottle belly.

The beggar suppressed his slightly heavy breathing and brought this jade bottle in front of him.

He carefully removed a piece of shredded flesh that was plugging the bottle and looked at the bottom of the bottle.

He saw in the bottle, the only, a round, rolling, black pill, and his breathing stopped.

He recognized it. That was what he longed for, and had once obtained and then lost, the Open Vein Pill!