Chapter Seven: The World Beyond Flamefire Village

Three days passed swiftly, and Fire Qilin finally set out on his journey to seek a master and the path of cultivation.

No one knew how long he would be gone. At the new site of Blazing Fire Village, five thousand miles away from its original location, a group of people gathered to see off a young man.

This was a customary practice for Blazing Fire Village: whenever outsiders appeared, the villagers would relocate the very next day to avoid reprisals. There’s a saying: it is not the thief who steals that one should fear, but the thief who never stops coveting.

It was precisely this practice that had allowed Blazing Fire Village to survive until now. Otherwise, they would have perished long ago, without even knowing the place of their own burial—a truly terrifying thought.

They had always lived in peace, never seeking conflict. If not for an old grudge passed down from their ancestors, their fate might have been vastly different. They could have become a power unto themselves, rather than living in such secrecy and humiliation.

If even this last remnant of their bloodline could not be preserved, then true extinction would follow—a fate they could neither accept nor allow. Even if they could not become rulers of a region, at least the bloodline must endure. That was the village chief’s best hope.

“Mother, what if I miss you?” Fire Qilin asked.

“When you miss me, look at the bead around your neck,” Fire Miaomiao replied. “When you see it, you’ll think of me—and your father, too!”

Fire Qilin nodded.

The Four Souls Bead—an unremarkable trinket in Blazing Fire Village—was, in truth, the most unique treasure among them. Its power lay in its ability to devour and nurture the soul of outsiders; unless one was a master at the Soul Realm, it held little practical use and was mostly a curious plaything.

So it was now, an ordinary bead worn by Fire Qilin, but also a wondrous bead that nourished the little green snake.

No one else knew this—not even Fire Qilin’s father. He had stumbled upon the artifact by chance, and after meeting Fire Miaomiao, gave it to her as a token of his affection. It had now passed into Fire Qilin’s hands.

The little green snake was fortunate; had Fire Qilin not brought her home, she would never have been saved and restored. Nor would she have had the chance to take human form once more.

Her rebirth set her on a new and unusual path; beginning her cultivation from the very soul itself, she was destined to shine even more brilliantly in this life than the last.

Bidding farewell to the village, Fire Qilin and the little green snake embarked on their journey.

Fire Qilin studied the map given to him by Yang Zilin, munching on a giant flatbread taller than himself.

This was a special flatbread made for him by the village chief and several elders—a survival ration to take a bite from when hungry, and to store in his cosmos pouch when not. It was supremely convenient.

Indeed, after much discussion with the elders, Village Chief Huoyun bestowed the clan’s treasured cosmos pouch on Fire Qilin—not in hopes that he would achieve greatness, but that he might avoid danger.

Yet, the mountains have their perils, and rest was a luxury he could ill afford.

A sharp bird cry pierced the air. A dark shadow swept over Fire Qilin and the little green snake; both immediately dove for cover, suppressing their auras as best they could.

It was a massive eagle-like bird with three jet-black tails. In theory, it was a descendant of one of the ancient ferocious beasts, though its impure bloodline left only its tails resembling its ancestor.

Swallowing Heaven Sparrow, one of the ancient fierce beasts—the very name suggests its power. Possessing roots of all five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, and earth—it was an unparalleled creature.

Most beings are lucky to inherit even a single pure spiritual root, yet the Swallowing Heaven Sparrow had all five. It could not help but be mighty.

Only after it flew past did Fire Qilin and the little green snake dare emerge from their refuge.

They knew their own strength; before a beast of such ancient lineage, resistance was suicide. Far better to hide and wait for it to leave.

But fortune, it seemed, had a way of finding Fire Qilin and his companion.

Shortly after they left the cave, a bestial cry sounded behind them—a wild boar, if Fire Qilin was not mistaken.

Like them, the beast had come to escape danger; unfortunately for it, it ran into two cultivators.

With a few nimble dodges, Fire Qilin dispatched the boar with a single punch.

Just as they were about to continue their journey, an unexpected event forced them to pause.

A massive fireball came hurtling from behind them. Had they not dodged in time, they would have been injured, for this was no ordinary fireball, but one conjured by an ancient ferocious beast.

“Look there, brother!” the little green snake called, pointing to a clearing not far away.

On that stretch of open ground, three different beasts clashed.

One was the black Swallowing Heaven Sparrow that had just flown overhead.

The other two were also descendants of ancient fierce beasts.

One, called the Zhenrong, was a plump, earth-colored lynx. Its appearance belied its ferocity, yet it was indeed one of the ancient beasts. This Zhenrong, however, was still a juvenile, evenly matched with the Swallowing Heaven Sparrow. The third was also a juvenile beast.

This last was not to be underestimated. Fire Qilin had once witnessed its might—it was a Pixiu, with snow-white fur, the body of a lion, the hooves of a horse, and the head of a qilin: a bizarre and awe-inspiring creature.

At that moment, the Pixiu unleashed a thunderous attack on the Zhenrong.

But the Zhenrong was no easy target. Its mastery of the earth element and the ancient Zhenrong path set it apart; even as a juvenile, it could contend with the Swallowing Heaven Sparrow.

This was a territorial dispute. The Swallowing Heaven Sparrow had long ruled this region, but the recent arrival of the juvenile Zhenrong and Pixiu had created a three-way contest for dominance.

Meanwhile, in another nearby cave, a group of ill-intentioned men lurked, watching the battle unfold.

They were hunters, hired by a prominent family from a city thousands of miles away to capture powerful spirit beasts.

But their ambitions had grown—they now eyed the young ancient beasts themselves.

They had been watching for a whole day, waiting for the three beasts to wear each other down so they could seize the spoils.

The battle among the three had reached its climax; it would not be long before a victor emerged.

Suddenly, thunder rolled and lightning flashed, and the once-clear sky turned pitch black.

Immediately, two bolts of purple lightning crashed down, striking the heads of the juvenile Zhenrong and the Swallowing Heaven Sparrow.

The lightning was so swift that both could only defend themselves passively: the Swallowing Heaven Sparrow wrapped its wings around itself, while the Zhenrong lashed its tail, meeting the lightning head-on.

The three-way collision produced no clear advantage.

The battle raged on.

"Zhenrong Arcana: Sandstorm Burial!" bellowed the juvenile Zhenrong.

This arcane art combined the forces of sand and metal, a fusion technique that, combined with Zhenrong’s earth path, made it worthy of its ancient heritage.

In the next moment, the powers of sand and gold gathered in the sky, coalescing into a great sand wave that swept toward the Swallowing Heaven Sparrow and the juvenile Pixiu.

Unable to counter the attack, the other two beasts could only resist with all their might.

With Zhenrong unleashing its trump card, the Pixiu and Swallowing Heaven Sparrow responded in kind.

"Pixiu Arcana: Heaven’s Thunder, Earth’s Fire!"

"Swallowing Heaven Arcana: Five Elements Demon Seal!"

The sky was already dark as pitch; only the flashes of lightning revealed the scene.

This was the true might of the Pixiu’s arcana. Though not as formidable as an adult Pixiu, it was more than enough to challenge the others.

Both the Pixiu and Zhenrong arcana fused two elements: for Pixiu, thunder and fire—overbearing and forceful.

As for the Swallowing Heaven Arcana, with its five elemental powers, it was even more dominant. Yet, because the Swallowing Heaven Sparrow’s bloodline was impure, it could only wield a tenth of its arcana’s power—and only this one technique, for the others were long lost. Even mastering this one was a feat.

Thunder roared, fire soared; in the thick of chaos, no one knew what was happening. All that those present could do was wait.

After a quarter of an hour, all grew still. The clouds cleared, revealing the victor.

There, in the center of the clearing, stood the juvenile Pixiu—wounded, but upright.

The Zhenrong and Swallowing Heaven Sparrow bore no visible wounds, but had been paralyzed by the purple lightning, unable to move.

The Pixiu was the undisputed victor.

With a mighty roar, its cry echoed through the mountains. In every corner of the forest, the lesser beasts fell to their knees in worship.

Such was the custom: when a new lord emerged, all lesser creatures paid homage. From that moment on, the juvenile Pixiu reigned supreme.