The boundary gorge was suspended in a state of total, stone-hard shock.
High on the limestone ledge, Senior Envoy Lu Yunzhi stood as rigid as a carved graveyard statue. The white silk of his Heavenly Sword robes was damp with cold sweat. His trembling hands were tucked into his sleeves to hide their violent quivering. Beside the gold-trimmed sandalwood carriage, the five scouts of the Crimson Flame Sect remained pressed against the earth, their breaths hitching in their throats as though the slightest breath in might invite the blue entity to eat them next.
Young Master Yan Zixuan sat in the crushed gravel, clutching his chest. Blood dripped steadily from his lips, staining the stitched golden dragons across his collar. His eyes, once bright with the insolence of an untouchable patrician, were glassy and hollow, fixed on the semi-clear blue sphere resting three paces before him.
Beneath Lin Xiao’s glossy azure mantle, an internal revolution was underway.
Deep within his Void Dantian—an infinite pocket of cosmic frozen stillness nestled behind the fabric of space itself—the folded pretzel of fiery steel floated amidst swirling currents of ancient indigo mist. Deprived of the external world’s spiritual leylines, the ancient Fire Wyrm glyphs etched into the blade sputtered weakly, unable to resist the entropic dissolving of ancient chaos.
A crisp chime sounded inside Lin Xiao’s mindscape. He was followed by the sweet-sounding, cold and exact rhythm of the Omniscient Dao Spirit:
“Sub-void decomposition matrix started. Target: Crimson Flame Sword, Grade-4 High-Tier Flying Ancient object. Beginning elemental dissociation and marrow extraction.”
Lin Xiao felt a warm, soothing sensation spread outward from his core. It didn’t feel like a violent spiritual fire tearing metal apart. Rather, it felt remarkably like finishing a bowl of spicy mountain numbing beef broth on a frosty winter night. The pleasant warmth rippled through his fluid boundary layers, relaxing his non-Newtonian polymers into a state of blissful, jelly-like ease.
Inside the void, the scarlet blade began to unwind at the core level.
The physical body of the sword—thirty-eight pounds of rare Scarlet Star-Iron mined from the roots of the southern fiery ranges—separated cleanly from its spiritual enchantments. The star-iron condensed into neat, polished metal bars of dense astral metal, each bar streaming a soft, dark-red luster as it settled into frozen stillness inventory storage.
Then came the true prize: the sword-marrow qi.
Three thousand years ago, the master smiths of the old family Crimson Flame Pavilion had cooled the forged blade in the heart-blood and molten bone marrow of an adult Fire Wyrm. That ancient draconic essence, locked within the crystal lattice for thousand years, was now stripped of its vengeful instincts by Lin Xiao’s chaos breakdown.
“Dragon-marrow essence purified,” the Dao Spirit reported within his mind. “Twelve hundred units of ancient Yang-fire essence harvested. Transcribing ancient runic stone carving matrix directly into host soul sea... Stone carving transcription complete. Unlocking active spell-craft: [Crimson Flame Manipulation].”
A tiny spark of pure, crimson light ignited at the very center of Lin Xiao’s soul core. Instantly, an innate understanding of heat rising heat, radiant infrared wavelengths, and dragon-fire squeezing bloomed in his mind. He didn’t need to chant mantras, form hand seals, or burn expensive magic charm paper. Controlling the flame was now as natural to him as extending a fluid slime arm.
“At the same time,” the Dao Spirit continued, “integrating draconic heat-limit settings into the host’s cellular fluid boundary. Hydro-colloid stretch heavy against heat degradation. Passive trait got: [Fire Immunity +40%].”
A system test box unfurled gracefully before his mental vision:
Lin Xiao wobbled with pure, pure satisfaction.
Forty percent fire immunity? Lin Xiao thought, his azure mantle rippling with delight as little ripples chased each other across his glossy surface. That is an astonishing upgrade for kitchen smooth speed. In the past, whenever I adjusted the heavy cast-iron cooking pots in Tie Shan’s forge or helped stir the boiling bean-paste vats, I had to keep my water’s skin tight so the steam wouldn’t scald my outer hydro-colloids. Now I can sit comfortably right in simmering stone water, or dip a fluid pseudo-finger directly into a bubbling pot of pork stew to taste the salt and anise balance without the slightest inconvenience!
Also, thirty-eight pounds of refined Scarlet Star-Iron in his frozen stillness inventory was a total windfall. In the hands of Tie Shan, that quantity of clean, heat-current-carrying cosmic metal could be transformed into the most legendary cookware the continent had ever seen. A wok forged from star-iron would heat evenly from rim to base, never scorch delicate greens, and hold wok-hei better than ancient bronze. Lin Xiao could already picture the stir-fried pea shoots and golden scallion pancakes they would produce once the autumn harvest came in.
Even better was the active skill. For weeks, lighting the communal cooking hearths had needed striking flint stones or asking Tie Shan to hammer sparks from a bronze anvil. With [Crimson Flame Manipulation], Lin Xiao was now a walking culinary starting system. He could caramelize sugar on sweet yams, sear pork belly with pinpoint accuracy, and simmer herbal broths with perfect heat balance.
While Lin Xiao was mentally planning the dinner menu, the world outside was experiencing something far more terrifying.
To Yan Zixuan, Envoy Lu, and the two pinned protectors, the little blue jelly ball didn’t look like someone enjoying a good meal.
It looked like an ancient, ancient terror absorbing the soul of a god.
The sword-marrow qi merged into Lin Xiao’s core. Then, his semi-clear blue body began to pulse with rhythmic waves of blinding scarlet light. The azure jelly turned into a radiant sapphire lantern wrapping an inner heart of pure dragon-flame. A majestic, draconic dark shape—a phantom of the ancient Fire Wyrm whose spirit had been imprisoned within the sword for three thousand years—coiled peacefully within the slime’s belly. That let out a final, contented sigh before dissolving into Lin Xiao’s core.
The leftover soul-mark of the Crimson Flame Sect Master, inscribed deep within the heirloom to protect his son, didn’t even have the chance to trigger its protective curse. It was snuffed out like a candle sunk in the deep ocean.
Protector Wu, his cheek still pressed against the shattered limestone, felt the psychic tether to his sect master’s lineage vanish into thin air.
“The Patriarch’s divine brand...” Wu stammered, a thin line of foamy spit leaking from his jaw. “Dissolved. Swallowed into the void without a ripple. Not even the Nascent Soul Ancestors of the Central Continent can erase our master’s blood-seal in three breaths! This... This creature isn’t a beast... It’s a Calamity Sovereign!”
Envoy Lu Yunzhi’s legs gave out fully. He slid down the side of the sandalwood carriage until his rear hit the mounting step with a dull thud. His proud Heavenly Sword Sect heritage, his years of martial arrogance, his disdain for the untamed wilderness. All of it seemed like the childish babble of a toddler standing before an erupting volcano.
“Junior Brother Yan...” Envoy Lu croaked, his voice dry and raspy. “We... We must leave. We must leave this very second.”
Yan Zixuan didn’t hear him. The young master was staring at Lin Xiao’s front mantle with wide, unblinking eyes.
Lin Xiao gave another gentle wobble, settling his azure mass comfortably on the limestone path. The crimson light fading from his belly left his semi-clear form looking even more clean and glowing than before, like a flawless block of sky sapphire freshly polished by mountain rain.
Lin Xiao extended a small, fluid slime arm toward Yan Zixuan.
At the tip of the semi-clear blue pseudo-finger, a tiny, perfect sphere of crimson dragon-fire ignited with a gentle fwoosh.
It was no larger than a cherry, yet it burned with terrifying, pure-ruby bright glare. The little flame danced playfully on the slime’s watery skin without producing a single hiss of steam or scorching his fluid boundary. Lin Xiao rotated the flame in a tiny circle, testing the heat with mild curiosity.
Let’s see... Two hundred degrees, three hundred, down to ninety... Lin Xiao mused, admiring the precise heat responsiveness. Perfect. I can roast sweet chestnuts in under two minutes with this. No smoke, no ash, just clean, blasting heat.
He put out the cherry-sized flame with a soft flick of his pseudo-finger, then looked down at the pale, shivering young master.
“Young Master Yan,” Lin Xiao said in his friendly, polite voice. “I appreciate the snack. The metal was a bit dense. But the dragon-marrow had a lovely smoky richness to it. It’s definitely an improvement over the rusted wire snares I found in the woods last month.”
Yan Zixuan let out a high-pitched, strangled whimper.
“You... You praised... The taste...” Yan Zixuan whispered, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost entirely black.
“Of course,” Lin Xiao replied cheerfully. “Credit where credit is due. As I mentioned earlier. Even so, it really could have used a pinch of crushed garlic or a drizzle of wild ginger syrup. Plain flying sword has a remarkably metal finish on the palate.”
Lin Xiao gave a small, elastic bounce, bobbing happily in place.
Beside him, Xiao Hei leaned forward, baring his silver-frosted fangs just three inches from Protector Wu’s ear, letting out a hot, rumbling breath that ruffled the elder’s gray hair.
The young master’s breathing grew ragged and shallow. His manicured hands clawed wildly at the dirt beneath him, his chest heaving as if the air itself had turned to poison.