The mist on Black Wind Ridge was strange. Zhou Tianci reined in his horse, the Liaoyuan Sword humming in its scabbard. The pine forests on either side of the mountain path, which should have been alive with morning birds, were now as silent as a graveyard. Old Wu, the miner walking at the front, suddenly raised his hand as a signal, the red cloth tied to his pickaxe handle a stark contrast in the mist.
"General, there's a smell of blood."
Tianci dismounted, his fingertips brushing the ground. The night's rain had not yet dried, and the mud was mixed with a dark red viscous fluid—not fresh blood, but a mixture of some kind of decaying blood and medicinal juices. The golden patterns on his brow pulsed with heat, and countless luminous footprints appeared in his vision: no less than three hundred people lay in ambush on the cliffs to either side.
He gave a low shout, "It's a trap!"
Too late. The first flaming arrow shot out from the mist, striking Old Wu in the throat. Immediately, an arrow rain poured down, the oil-wrapped arrowheads tracing countless fiery lines through the morning fog. Tianci swung his sword into a circle, and a golden fire curtain rose into the sky. Most arrows turned to ash mid-air, but over a dozen pierced the defensive line.
Screams erupted. Tianci looked back to see three miners writhing on the ground; their arrows were not ordinary—poisonous insects were hidden in the arrowheads, burrowing into their flesh. Even more terrifying were those already dead; their corpses twitched and rose again, green fire emanating from their eye sockets.
"Nether Puppet Technique!" Yingqi's broken sword cleaved through a zombie, "Black Wind Fortress has surrendered to Zhao Deyong!"
The sound of a clapper echoed from the cliff. The mist suddenly dispersed, revealing densely packed bandits. They all had the Eyes of the Netherworld totem painted on their foreheads, holding special hook-sickle-spears, the tips glowing blue—clearly quenched with residue of Mysterious Yin Ice Soul. A one-eyed giant stood at the highest point, a blood-dripping mace on his shoulder.
"You insignificant runt of the Zhou family!" the giant boomed like muffled thunder, "Grandpa has been waiting for you for half a month!"
Tianci's pupils constricted. He recognized the man—Cuī Měng, the chieftain of Black Wind Fortress, the Living Yama, one of the twelve villains who participated in the massacre of the General's Mansion. The Liaoyuan Sword sensed its master's murderous intent, and the scabbard exploded into pieces on its own.
"Form ranks!"
Three hundred Liaoyuan Army soldiers quickly formed a circular formation. Tianci pointed his sword tip to the sky, golden flames flowing along the sword's patterns, forming a net of fire above everyone's heads. This was the nascent stage of the Heavenly Burning Sword Array he and Yingqi had practiced for half a month, intended to be a trump card for attacking the County Government Office.
Cuī Měng laughed wildly and waved his flag. The bandits pushed out ten strange crossbows, each loaded with a three-zhang long ice-crystal giant arrow. The water meridians within Tianci's body suddenly surged—these were magic tools bestowed by Fairy Xuanyin to her lackeys!
"Raise the shields!"
The moment the ice arrows were loosed, the temperature between heaven and earth plummeted. The shields in the front row cracked as soon as frost formed on them. A young miner hit head-on was frozen into an ice sculpture and then shattered into powder. Tianci's fire net was torn open by a large gap, and the second wave of arrows followed.
Xiǎohé's scream pierced the din.
As Tianci turned, he saw the girl's right arm grazed by an ice arrow, her entire sleeve instantly freezing. Even more terrifying was the spreading coldness, crawling towards her heart like a living thing. He lunged forward, pressing his left hand to the wound, circulating both water and fire energies—this was a life-saving technique left by the Ninth Princess.
As the frost melted, Cuī Měng had arrived at the formation with his men. His mace swept out, breaking three Liaoyuan Army soldiers in half at the waist. Tianci met him with his sword, the Liaoyuan Sword clashing against the mace, the sparks igniting nearby bushes.
"You little runt has some strength!" Cuī Měng licked the bloodstains on his mace, "Just like your dead father..."
Sword light flashed like lightning. Tianci's "Fire Phoenix Nodding" technique was faster than humanly possible. Cuī Měng narrowly dodged, but a large patch of scalp along with his left ear flew off. The bandit leader howled and retreated, then suddenly gave a sinister laugh: "Light the fireworks!"
The bandits simultaneously took out bamboo tubes and fired them into the sky. Countless green fireballs exploded in the air, transforming into ghostly Netherworld faces that swept across the battlefield. Every Liaoyuan Army soldier touched by a ghost face began to attack their comrades; even Yingqi had to sever his own possessed left arm.
Tianci's fire meridians went completely berserk. He saw Old Wu's corpse trampled by horses, saw Xiǎohé dragging her injured arm to rescue the wounded, saw Cuī Měng laughing on the fortress wall, arm around a captured woman. The Ninth Princess's warning echoed in his ears: "Water and fire can complement each other, but too much is as bad as too little..."
To hell with complementing!
Golden flames erupted from his seven orifices. Tianci completely released the suppression on his fire meridians. The Liaoyuan Sword hummed and grew longer and wider, eventually transforming into a three-zhang fire blade. The first strike split open the fortress gate, the second destroyed the array of crossbows, and the third, a sweeping blow, vaporized over thirty bandits instantly.
"Monster!" The scars on Cuī Měng's face twitched, "Arrows! Fire..."
The fourth strike descended from above. The bandit leader raised his mace to block, but the wrought iron mace melted like wax. At the last moment, he pulled a girl beside him in front of him. Tianci hastily retracted his force, the sword's edge deflected, yet it still shaved off half of the girl's hair.
In that momentary pause, Cuī Měng rolled into a secret passage. Tianci wanted to pursue but was halted by a sudden burst of cold air—those Netherworld ghost faces were frantically devouring his flames. The battlefield fell into a strange equilibrium: the golden sea of fire and the green ghostly mist tore at each other, while the living became mere supporting characters.
"General! Northeast corner!" Xiǎohé cried out, pointing in that direction.
Tianci turned and saw over twenty bandits escorting captives towards the dense forest. Those disheveled women and children were clearly civilians from nearby villages. The white-haired elder at the front, chained, was the village head who had brought them grain last month!
The flames suddenly took on a will of their own.
Tianci felt a shackle within him break, and his fire meridians surged through his body like a flooded river. He unconsciously raised his hand, and what sprayed from his palm was no longer flames, but liquid golden magma. When the first bandit was hit, he melted like a candle; the second tried to raise a shield, and the metal instantly boiled; the third, who had just knelt to beg for mercy, had his blood erupt from his pores and spontaneously combust.
"Tianci Ge!" Xiǎohé's call came as if from a great distance, "Stop! Those are civilians!"
He couldn't hear. The flames had taken over his senses, the world reduced to a pure energy map. Moving heat sources were enemies, stationary ones were allies, and those trembling small lights... were lambs to be saved. He strode forward, the ground vitrifying wherever he passed, trees carbonizing into ash.
The fortress walls burned like paper before him