Chapter 43: Becoming the Fire

Chapter 43: Turning Oneself into Fire

Just before noon, Qin Yuan arrived at the Left Bureau of Historiography.

His arrival startled all his colleagues.

Qin Yuan had not shown up for six years.

Everyone had assumed Qin Yuan was long dead.

After all, with the world in such turmoil, dying was the most normal thing in the world.

Before long, Qin Yuan met with Yang Huzhan, who looked much older, inside the Director's chambers.

His guess from back then had been right; this old man truly knew how to outlive everyone.

"Brother Qin, I really didn't expect you to still be alive."

Yang Huzhan wore an expression of deep emotion.

Not many of his peers were still among the living.

Seeing Qin Yuan brought an indescribable sense of warmth to his heart.

"The Director hasn't aged a bit."

Qin Yuan uttered the insincere words without missing a beat.

Yang Huzhan, who was five years older than him, looked at least ten years his senior.

On second thought, it was hardly surprising; spending every day mingling with a bunch of man-eating demons, the sheer terror alone would age a person by several years.

"I've always loved your silver tongue," Yang Huzhan chuckled.

Of course, had those words been spoken by an ordinary person, it would have been a different story entirely.

"By the way, have you reached the Ninth Rank yet?"

Unlike their previous encounter, Yang Huzhan asked quite casually.

It was just like an ordinary person greeting someone on the roadside and asking if they had eaten yet.

Qin Yuan nodded.

He had inquired about it before coming here; nowadays, the Ninth Rank was no longer as prestigious as it had been six years ago.

He had to admit that the world changed truly fast, just like a serialized novel where everything changed every few years, and anyone who fell even slightly behind would be eliminated.

"You, you're always a beat slower than everyone else. Had it been a few years earlier, I would have introduced you to the Grand General, and perhaps you'd already be a Grandmaster by now."

Yang Huzhan stroked his somewhat whitened beard and said with deep regret.

Though he spoke casually, his previously slightly hunched posture straightened up just a fraction.

On the surface, Qin Yuan smiled and kept silent.

Inwardly, he sneered.

He would have become a Grand Meal instead.

Over the years, given the rate at which heaven and earth were changing, a vast number of martial arts powerhouses should have emerged, yet only a tiny handful had appeared.

There was only one possibility: most of them had ended up in the belly of the Five-Aves Immortal.

"By the way, did you run into any Alchemists during your travels outside?"

When Yang Huzhan mentioned Alchemists, a flash of disgust crossed his eyes.

Qin Yuan had seen that exact look in the past whenever Yang Huzhan spoke of demons.

"No, I didn't head south."

Qin Yuan asked out of curiosity, "What evil have the Alchemists committed?"

Yang Huzhan sneered and began to recount.

After a while, Qin Yuan fell silent.

The reason why the Daoist soldiers of the Alchemists were so formidable was that they used the living souls of human beings as weapon spirits.

When it came to wickedness, Alchemists were not a whit behind demons.

No wonder the Army of Shared Will was determined to exterminate the Alchemists.

Just then, a flurry of hurried footsteps echoed from outside.

His nephew, Shoumin, had arrived.

"Uncle Qin, I knew you were still alive!"

Li Shoumin rushed in from outside, his face etched with unconcealed excitement.

Compared to six years ago, Li Shoumin looked much healthier.

His hair was thick, his build well-proportioned, his complexion ruddy with a healthy glow, and his steps steady.

Qin Yuan reached out and patted his chest; it felt hard and solid.

"How is it?"

"Very good," Qin Yuan said sincerely.

"This Li Shoumin is just like you—lacking any ambition to rise. I intended to promote him and make him the Chief Compiler, but he wouldn't even agree," Yang Huzhan said with exasperation, lamenting his stubbornness.

He had spent his entire life reading human nature, yet he had stumbled over precisely two people.

One was Qin Yuan, and the other was Qin Yuan's nephew, Li Shoumin.

"I only ask for a comfortable life in this lifetime."

Li Shoumin was practically a bootleg version of Qin Yuan.

Qin Yuan felt a warm wave of elderly satisfaction wash over him, looking at Li Shoumin with the gaze of someone thinking, 'My nephew possesses the aura of the Ultimate Cowerer.'

Suddenly remembering something, Li Shoumin produced a brand-new document. "This was just sent over by the Administrative Yamen."

Handling it as though it were filth, he tossed it onto the table with utter disdain the moment he finished speaking.

Yang Huzhan thought nothing of it, his own sentiments being much the same as Li Shoumin's. Picking it up to take a look, he said in astonishment, "The Grand General has arrested Zhao Luoting and sentenced him to hanging."

The secret was out after all.

Qin Yuan mentally pictured the scene.

In Funing Palace, Duan Hu, having finally learned the truth, turned alternating shades of red and white with rage. "This treacherous dog deceived me for six years! Six years! Do you all have any idea how I survived these past six years?"

In the afternoon, the scorching sun had faded, leaving behind only a lingering trace of warmth.

Qin Yuan rode his beloved fourth-generation little donkey (the third-generation had starved to death while Qin Yuan was in seclusion, much to his unintentional neglect), strolling leisurely down the grand street.

He had arrived.

Qin Yuan raised his head to look at the imposing gates of the Heavenly Prison ahead.

Qin Yuan had expected things to go smoothly, but he had forgotten one thing.

Six years was more than enough time for the Heavenly Prison to replenish its ranks with fresh blood.

As luck would have it, the guards he encountered were a batch of fresh recruits.

After fumbling around for quite a while, they finally allowed Qin Yuan to enter.

The moment he stepped inside, it felt just like returning home—intensely familiar.

Before long, he stopped in front of a certain cell.

Zhao Luoting, clad in filthy, blood-stained garments, was bound to a wooden pillar. His breathing was faint, and his head drooped as though he were unconscious.

Qin Yuan called out softly, "Master Zhao."

There was no reaction whatsoever.

Qin Yuan considered channeling a sliver of his magic power into him.

Just as he was about to act, he stopped.

He must not cultivate the bad habit of resorting to magic power at every turn.

Fortunately, Zhao Luoting stirred awake.

He lifted his head, peering at Qin Yuan through bloodshot eyes half-hidden behind disheveled strands of hair, and said in sudden realization, "It's you."

His voice was hoarse, clearly having gone without water for a long time.

Qin Yuan took out his personal water flask and fed him some water.

The new prison guard standing nearby started to shout in reprimand.

He was immediately cut off by a flurry of blows and curses from several senior guard leaders who had rushed over.

Recording Officer Qin had been their patron deity for over twenty years, a title meant to be passed down from their fathers to themselves like a treasured family heirloom. How dare they treat Recording Officer Qin with disrespect? They must have a death wish.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to have a private conversation with Instructor Zhao."

"Go right ahead, please go ahead."

In an instant, only Qin Yuan and Zhao Luoting remained in the cell.

Zhao Luoting wore a look of sudden understanding once again. "You are a Left Historian; by convention, you must record my words and deeds. The post of a historian is most intriguing—existing squarely within the imperial court, yet standing entirely apart as a mere observer. If there is an afterlife, I, too, would wish to be a historian."

Qin Yuan walked over, sat down behind a small table, picked up a writing brush, and asked quite bluntly, "What is it you oppose about Grand General Duan?"

"Man-eating."

He parted his lips in a smile. "Is that reason enough?"

The movement seemed to pull at his wounds, and a flash of agony crossed his face.

Yet he did not let out a single sound.

Some people merely looked like tough men, while others were tough men down to their very bones.

Zhao Luoting belonged to the latter.

"Enough."

Qin Yuan nodded.

After jotting it down, he voiced his own 'confusion': "Don't you possess the Dragon-Slaying Art? How were you captured so easily?"

"I possess no Dragon-Slaying Art, *cough, cough*..."

He suddenly broke into a violent fit of coughing, spitting up blood along with a few fragmented chunks.

Clearly, his internal organs had been beaten to a pulp.

Those prison guards truly struck with ruthless viciousness.

"I was captured because I took the initiative to tell Duan Hu the truth."

Qin Yuan was completely baffled by Zhao Luoting's words.

So the secret was exposed because of his own doing?

What kind of suicidal behavior was this?

A flash of insight struck Qin Yuan, and he finally understood.

Zhao Luoting wished to turn himself into a spark, hoping it would ignite a raging prairie fire.

Duan Hu was not his ultimate target; his target was every single demon and monster roaming across this vast land.

What a magnificent vision, what a foolish man, and what a heart-rending soul.