Beauty and Might: Heavenly Flames

Li Yan froze, glancing at his arm, burned in the Inferno Lion’s attack—yet no pain followed. Not even a scorch mark. The flames had kissed his skin, but left no trace. ”What…?”

The wolf and fox didn’t give him time to wonder. They pounced together—the wolf snapping for his legs, the fox streaking down from above.

Li Yan exhaled slowly, his Spiritual Sense locking onto their movements. Instead of retreating, he surged forward.

The wolf’s jaws snapped shut—too late. Li Yan stepped onto its skull mid-pounce, using its skull as a springboard. His body flipped over the fox, his sword slicing downward in a deadly black arc of Qi.

Dark Qi tore through fur and bone. The Bloodthirsty Fox screeched, collapsing lifeless before it hit the ground.

The Shadow Wolf froze. Its ears flattened, fear glimmering in its eyes. For a heartbeat, it was considered escape.

Fatal mistake.

Li Yan landed behind it. His blade thrust straight through its heart. The Shadow Wolf stiffened, then slumped into silence.

Silence reclaimed the clearing. The fire crackled softly, thin smoke threading up into the star-swept sky.

Li Yan stood amidst the fallen beasts, his breath steady despite the ferocity of the battle. He was uninjured, yet the state of his robes told another story—proof that he’d only survived because instinct sharpened faster than fear.

”That was far more troublesome than I expected.”

His grip tightened on his sword, his expression calm yet pensive. This fight had taught him something important: when outnumbered, raw strength wasn’t enough. Strategy mattered.

Then, something unexpected happened. From the corpses of the Inferno Lion and the Bloodthirsty Fox, two glowing beast cores floated into the air. Li Yan’s brows shot up.

”Three cores… from only four beasts?” His thoughts raced. ”That ratio was impossible.”

Earlier in the day, he had slain nearly fifty beasts to collect only six cores. Yet in just two fights against four beasts, the drop rate had skyrocketed.

”Why the sudden difference? Luck? Or is there a pattern here?”

”High-intensity battles… or stronger killing intent…? Something had changed the conditions.”

He stored the cores in his ring but deliberately left the bodies untouched, curious if their lingering blood scent might lure more beasts.

Perhaps the drop-rate increase wasn’t random. Maybe something had shifted. If he could understand this anomaly, his task might be cut in half—or even less.

Still, his vigilance never wavered. Spiritual Sense extended outward, sweeping the 30-meter-radius area like an invisible net.

The crackling campfire illuminated his figure, casting long shadows across the clearing. As he waited for the next wave of beasts, his thoughts drifted back to the battle. Specifically, to the moment the Inferno Lion’s flames should have burned his arm badly… but hadn’t.

It gnawed at him.

Fire was lethal, and the lion’s attack carried enough power to leave burning injuries to someone at his current cultivation. Yet he had emerged unscathed.

Why?

Li Yan turned toward the blazing campfire, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He stepped closer, extending his hand. At first, he felt the faint warmth licking at his palm, but the sensation never grew unbearable.

He pushed further, inch by inch, until his fingers hovered just above the flames.

Still nothing.

His brows furrowed. Even at the edge of the flames, the heat remained no more than a steady warmth, like standing beneath the midday sun.

His heartbeat quickened. He pushed further.

His fingers slipped into the fire. The flames curled around his skin, heat gathering like a warm breath against his palm—strange, harmless, almost familiar.

”What—?” His lips parted in disbelief. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Without hesitation, he crouched, seized a burning log directly from the fire, and held it firmly. Embers flared, sparks flew, but the searing heat that should have blistered his flesh didn’t exist.

The log crackled and popped in his grasp as if mocking the laws of nature.

”Am I… immune to fire?”

His grin widened, though his eyes darkened with thought. ”Could this be the ability tied to my special body Senior Yao Fuhuo mentioned?”

If not for the Inferno Lion’s attack, he might never have discovered it, perhaps not this soon. But now it was undeniable.

It wasn’t resistance. The fire simply… refused to harm him.

Before he could think further, his Spiritual Sense jolted. Multiple life auras surged at the edge of his perception. Beasts. Closing in fast.

Li Yan tossed the burning log aside, embers scattering at his feet, and turned toward the direction the beasts were approaching.

Muscles coiled, breath steady.

The night was far from finished.

As Li Yan picked up his sword in a fluid motion, four Shadow Wolves emerged from the dense underbrush, glowing eyes glinting in the firelight. Their low growls rolled across the clearing, carrying a scent sharp and bitter, like rotting leaves steeped in blood.

Li Yan’s earlier theory was confirmed—the fire and the scent of fresh blood from the last battle had lured more beasts his way. But these weren’t mindless attackers. They moved with eerie coordination, spreading out to encircle him; they were a pack.

The first two feinted, testing his reflexes, while the other two lingered at the edges, waiting for an opening. Smart.

Suddenly, a blur of motion struck his blind side—one lunged high, the other swept low for his legs.

Li Yan spun, his blade cutting a tight arc. Steel kissed flesh, opening the first beast’s neck, though not enough to kill. Before he could finish it, the low attacker crashed against his legs, throwing him slightly off balance.

He leapt back just as a third beast’s claws tore through the air—but not fast enough to escape the fourth.

Agony lanced his left arm. Claws tore fabric and carved a burning line across his bicep. Blood ran hot to his elbow, the sting sharp. He clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out.

”Too fast.”

Breathing sharply through his nose, Li Yan shifted his stance. He tightened his grip and, with a deep breath, channeled his Darkness Qi into the blade. In an instant, the steel darkened, wisps of black mist coiling around the edge like living shadows.

The wolves faltered. The air itself grew heavier, pressing down like a predator’s gaze. Darkness wasn’t just energy—it was dread.

One wolf leapt high, jaws gaping, while another circled low. Li Yan stepped under the leap and swept his blade wide. A crescent of shadow trailed the strike, cleaving into the second beast.

Darkness flared within its chest, and the Darkness Qi detonated inside the beast, shadows collapsing its organs with silent, ruthless pressure. It hit the ground, convulsed once, and lay still.

The third lunged from his side. His arm was still bleeding from the earlier injury, but he pushed through the pain.

Their clash rang out, claws against steel. He pivoted, channeling more Darkness Qi into the blade, and when it sank into flesh, the energy spread like black fire, eating through the beast from within.

Its screech ended in silence.

Only two remained—the wounded one and its uninjured kin. Both froze, ears flattened, hesitation betraying their fear.

Li Yan exhaled slowly. Darkness still clung to his sword.

He blurred forward, vanishing from their sight. The wounded creature didn’t have time to react before a silent thrust of his darkness-infused sword pierced through its skull. The beast fell, not even making a sound.

The last beast backed away instinctively—but fear was too late.

Li Yan raised his sword once more, and this time, a thin ripple of dark light coated the entire blade. The beast lunged in desperation. He stepped aside, smooth and silent—like a phantom—and drove the sword downward with flawless execution.

The clearing fell quiet once more.

His breath steadied, shoulders relaxing as he scanned the surroundings again. Nothing stirred. But the pain in his arm returned in full force. He lowered his sword and rolled up his sleeve. Four claw marks, deep but not lethal, ran along his bicep.

With a wave, he retrieved the small bottle Ji Hong had given him. He uncorked it, popped one of the healing pills into his mouth, and sat down by a tree as the chill medicine spread through his chest and limbs. The ache dulled, the wound knitting slowly.

His gaze slid to the fallen wolves, eyes glinting in the firelight. ”Still not enough. If I lose focus for even a heartbeat, I’ll die here.”

He smirked faintly. ”Thanks to Elder Ji for the healing pills—they’re proving useful.”

The shadows receded from his blade. His heartbeat slowed. Yet his eyes held a steady fire. The Hunting Ground was a crucible—and if he faltered, it wouldn’t forge him.

It would consume him.

Li Yan found another beast core and slipped it into his storage ring. He moved on without pause, storing older corpses but leaving the fresh kills behind. Their blood and scent would serve as bait for the next wave of beasts.

His plan was working.

The rest of the night passed in that same brutal rhythm—wait, lure, strike, harvest.

Wave after wave of beasts came for him, drawn by fire and blood scent—some fell quickly, others pushed him to the brink—but each clash honed him further

Each fight added more cores to his collection, yet no new wounds marred his body; his instincts sharpened with every clash.

By the time the first streaks of dawn bled through the canopy, his body screamed with exhaustion.

Still, he stood among the carnage with a total of twenty-three beast cores secured, seventeen of them taken during that single night alone. Not a bad haul out of nearly a hundred beasts.

More than numbers, though, were the lessons carved into his flesh and muscle memory—methods refined, mistakes corrected, reactions faster than before.

But the truth was clear: if he intended to survive in this Yao Fuhuo’s task, his current abilities would not be enough. He needed more. Stronger defenses. Sharper offense.

”Without proper techniques, my luck won’t last forever.”

Satisfied yet weary, Li Yan decided to rest. The Hunting Grounds were perilous, but even here, he needed time to recover.

After several minutes of travel, he spotted a small cave carved into the mountainside. It looked promising. Extending his Spiritual Sense into the depths, he probed carefully for lurking danger.

Nothing. Empty.

Only then did he enter.

Gathering wood, he lit a small fire and watched the flames flicker to life. Their glow pushed back the shadows as the warmth spread through the cave.

He warmed a simple meal over the fire, exhaustion settling into his bones, the events of the night replaying in his mind—the endless battles, the lure of fresh blood, his strange immunity to fire.

Questions lingered, but recovery came first.

Seated by the fire, Li Yan ate slowly. His gaze lingered on the flames, and for the first time since stepping into this trial, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Every hour here honed him further. Every battle carved him sharper. He was growing stronger.

Once his meal was finished, his body felt replenished. Li Yan drew a deep breath and waved his hand. From his storage ring, a scroll materialized, floating into his palm. It was the second of the three techniques he had acquired.

Slowly, Li Yan unrolled it, his eyes narrowing as ancient symbols pulsed faintly in the cave’s dim light.

Nightshade Shield.

As he read, the scroll’s meaning sank into him—Nightshade Shield, a dome of condensed darkness capable of devouring force and elemental attacks. Temporary, but lasting up to twenty seconds. Strong enough to shield not only himself but anyone within its reach.

Li Yan’s pulse quickened. The instructions seemed deceptively simple, but he knew mastery would demand patience, precision, and a deeper communion with his Darkness Qi than he’d yet achieved. He memorized each stroke of the diagrams, burning every detail into his mind.

A faint ripple of dark mist stirred around his fingertips as he exhaled. ”If I use this Nightshade Shield technique… survival won’t be left to luck anymore.”

Determination surged—but beneath it, a faint unease curled like a shadow. Power always came with a price—one he hadn’t discovered yet.