Volume One, Chapter Seventy-Nine: Blood and Fire

In the hush of silence, icy steps took shape beneath their feet, forming one after another, only to dissolve away on the wind.

Without a sound, the two ascended to the summit of the alien moon, arriving just in time to witness the tragic sight of Shang Qingwen hurling himself forward in a desperate self-detonation, followed by his awkward figure cast aside by the force of the tidal repulsion.

Chen Luoluo seated herself midair, a lotus of frost blooming beneath her. Mo De, his wrist still clasped by Chen Luoluo, could only sit beside her, watching as she prepared the so-called trump card she had spoken of.

Closing her eyes, she stilled her mind and began to circulate her energy throughout her body. The waves of power emanating from her abruptly grew quiet and withdrawn. Her already pale skin now gleamed even colder, as if carved from ice and jade.

Parting her lips, she bit lightly at the tip of her tongue. A bead of crimson blood slowly formed, coaxed forth by her secret arts. As the blood left her, the color faded from her lips, as though the chill had snuffed out the last vestiges of warmth.

This drop of blood was different from the so-called vital essence of other aberrants; it was not a mere distillation of life force. In the Chen family, it was wrought through the study of secret arts, gathering one’s spirit, energy, and the aberrant seed into a single point, refined within the palace of essence.

It was impossible to say how many times one must empty their inner world and body to condense a single such precious drop. Any misstep in the process could cause a catastrophic backlash: at best, the practitioner would lose all cultivation and suffer shattered meridians; at worst, they would perish instantly, their body erupting in a mist of blood, scattered to the wind.

The ancestors of the Chen clan had blazed this path in the chaos of heaven and earth, studying myriad arts before forging this secret method. Though the condensation of such blood was arduous beyond compare, the miraculous power it contained was likewise beyond imagining.

A single drop could catalyze the birth of myriad things.

Extending a finger to touch the bead, Chen Luoluo inscribed her frost arts within it, her already weakened body growing even more frail from forcefully channeling this essence. At last, when the work was done, a faint pattern of frost appeared upon the drop.

“Heaven-Sealing, Earth-Closing,” she whispered. The pale woman pointed toward the immense blood serpent before the alien moon.

The bead, flicked from her fingertip, shot forth as a streak of crimson light.

As the art was unleashed, Chen Luoluo’s body gave way, and she collapsed backward, caught and steadied by Mo De.

No sooner had the blood light burst past the barrier concealing their presence than the serpent sensed it. Yet before its massive head could turn, the blood essence had already pierced its flesh.

Sensing danger, the serpent tried to muster its tidal repulsion, but it was too late. Instead, it shrouded itself in roaring bloodflames to withstand the mysterious attack.

Crackling sounds erupted as patterns of frost surged across the ground beneath the serpent. Crimson ice sealed its body and the flames together, freezing the beast in an instant.

“Strike now,” Mu Qing urged, even as he marveled at Chen Luoluo’s secret art, reminding Jian Xin and Shang Qingwen not to miss this rare chance she had created.

Darkness gathered, shadows stirring. This time, Jian Xin did not attempt to construct a domain, but attacked in concert with Shang Qingwen, launching a frontal assault on the serpent.

Within the crimson ice, deep in the serpent’s titanic eye, the golden gaze of the red serpent’s inner form showed panic. No matter how it struggled, it could not break free; the icy prison seemed a world unto itself, severing the serpent from its flesh and from the alien moon above.

Shang Qingwen’s flaming fist crashed down, shattering the serpent’s scales at its vital spot with ease. The bitter cold had left the armor brittle as paper. He dove into the wound, aiming for the beast’s heart.

Jian Xin was not to be outdone: massive shadowy stakes burst from the earth, spearing the serpent’s body in many places. Carefully avoiding the heart where Shang Qingwen fought, Jian Xin unleashed the full power of the “Dark Forest,” letting it rampage and proliferate inside the serpent’s body.

The armored scales at the serpent’s weak point exploded outward, and a fiery silhouette burst through. Shang Qingwen had carved a path straight through, destroying the heart and erupting from the beast’s back.

He spun midair, swooping toward the serpent’s head. Glancing aside at Jian Xin’s handiwork, he couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement.

Black shadows riddled the serpent’s body, countless shadowy spikes piercing from shattered scales and torn flesh. The nightmarish forest of twisted darkness and bloody earth formed a grotesque tableau.

On the sidelines, Zhang Shunlai supported Jian Xin, keeping the exhausted smith from collapsing.

The veins of frost on the ground dimmed and vanished. The crimson ice encasing the serpent disappeared as well.

But by then, the serpent’s body was riddled with wounds from the shadowy forest, its heart a gaping void, its head half-destroyed by Shang Qingwen’s assault.

At last freed, the red serpent realized its body was beyond saving. It tried to roar in rage, but found its upper jaw had been pulverized along with its skull.

Fury warred with reason, but the serpent had to admit: its plan for revenge had utterly failed.

A streak of blood shot from the ruined head, so swift that even Shang Qingwen could not react in time.

There was nothing for it now; no matter how unwilling, the only option was retreat and to plot anew.

The red serpent’s remnant soul forsook its body, flying straight for the massive alien moon.

This time, it would withdraw. When it returned, it would be fully prepared and give these insects no hope of reversal.

Its golden eyes swept the land, suddenly noticing two figures hastening behind the great moon.

In that instant, murderous intent blazed in the serpent’s heart—one of them, the long-haired human, was the one who had sealed it away.

She had ruined two decades of planning in a single stroke.

Its speed surged, turning to lunge at Mo De and Chen Luoluo.

It would drain every drop of her blood to vent its wrath.

A crimson ray streaked across the sky toward them, as Mo De, target locked upon him by the serpent, ran at a desperate pace with the unconscious Chen Luoluo cradled at his waist.

One arm held her slender waist; with the other, he gripped a scabbard of spatial stone, the sheath concealing a sharp blade within.

The serpent’s soul closed in with a few flickers, baring its fangs, a tidal wave of blood surging forth, golden eyes burning with murderous malice.

Suddenly, the fleeing figure hurled the long-haired woman aside and spun to face the oncoming serpent.

Within its golden eyes, the serpent saw him crouch and twist, then all was filled with a flash of copper light.

The mouth of the spatial stone scabbard glowed, copper patterns lighting up and coiling around it like a dragon.

Mo De pressed the scabbard to his left hip, right hand gripping the hilt, drawing the blade out inch by inch.

The blade emerged, shrouded in black flame. Three inches—then three feet more.

The sword was straight and slender, the dark fire burning silently, as if woven from shadow and dream.

He braced his stance, then stepped forward, meeting the charging blood shadow head-on. The black-flamed blade slashed upward in a diagonal arc.

The blade traced a streak of black through the air, consuming and erasing every trace of blood shadow it touched.

With a single strike, the serpent’s soul halted, frozen in place before Mo De.

Upon its spectral head, within the golden serpent eyes, a thin crack appeared.

Mo De reversed his grip, plunging the burning blade through the serpent’s skull, pinning the blood serpent’s soul to the earth.

Far away, Chen Luoluo, who had been tossed aside, struck the ground at last.

The jolt roused her from unconsciousness. Weakly opening her eyes, the sight before her left her dazed.

The blood serpent’s remnant soul lay dissolving into the earth. The youth stood, leaning on his blade, his gaze lifting to the distant moon, his back straight and proud.

Black flames curled around the long blade, their depths all the more profound against the backdrop of that luminous, flawless moon.

As the youth seemed to glance around for her, Chen Luoluo hastily closed her eyes and feigned unconsciousness.

Once he was certain the serpent’s soul had fully dissipated and the alien moon showed no further signs of trouble, Mo De turned back to find Chen Luoluo, who he had flung aside. He hurried over to her.

Sheathing the long blade and recalling the quiet black flames, Mo De used his powers to disassemble the extra segments of the blade, returning them to the spatial stone scabbard.

Because he’d intended to use the black fire, this time he had not formed the blade entirely from mimetic energy, but had pieced together a long sword from stored alloy within the spatial stone, opening a corner of its storage space to conceal the blade within.

He rushed to Chen Luoluo, sheathed the short blade, then wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her at his side, racing to rejoin the others gathered before the moon.

On the battlefield, the two masters who had reached the outer circle’s peak were sitting on the ground to rest. When they made their final assault on the serpent, Shang Qingwen, like Jian Xin, had spent every last reserve of strength and power, ensuring the beast would not revive. When that familiar blood-red flash appeared again, the old man was powerless to give chase.

“Qin Mo is back!” Zhang Shunlai, calling for Yang Yichan and the others to help with the wounded, suddenly brightened, jumping up and waving toward the two figures by the giant moon.

At his cry, the others looked over in delight, spotting the pair approaching from the side of the moon.

With the help of Zhang Shunlai and the others, Shang Qingwen and Jian Xin staggered up to meet Mo De and Chen Luoluo.

Mu Qing, meanwhile, remained seated, legs folded, lowering his smoky glasses and carefully cleaning them with his robe.

At the corners of his closed eyes, faint traces of illusory black fire drifted out unbidden.