Chapter 323: Raging Fire on Kun Mountain

Chapter 323: Blazing Kunlun

Ye Wuzong was not actually angry at being tricked by two children and chasing the wrong person.

It was merely a matter of losing face due to a misjudgment, but in truth, the added difficulty only heightened his enjoyment, and he pursued eagerly into the mountains.

Zhao Changhe, upon entering the mountains, had even deliberately misled his trail—breaking branches on one path while taking another. To the eyes of a master thief, these traces were clumsy and childish, yet intriguing.

But this was deep winter, with snow covering the mountains. His lightness skill could not achieve the feat of leaving no footprints on snow. No matter how he concealed his tracks or stepped on branches, to a knowledgeable eye, the signs were as clear as a guiding lantern—just follow them.

Yet the mountains were vast, and time had dragged on. Finding someone deliberately hiding was no easy task. Fortunately, the agreed-upon time was three days, and Ye Wuzong was confident he could locate the man within that period.

But as he pursued, he gradually sensed something amiss.

Crossing two ridges, he saw ahead the site of an ancient volcanic eruption, where the rocks and surroundings differed from the rest.

Ordinarily, the rocks showed no difference, buried under a blanket of snow—only visible when the snow melted.

But here, there was no snow. The snow had not melted naturally... It was the result of a fierce battle between powerful experts, where vast swaths of snow had turned to streams under the heat of their techniques, making the land look like spring had returned.

What experts had fought here? Zhao Changhe’s level was nowhere near this—the strength displayed was no less than his own.

Yet as he followed the melted snow deeper into the mountains, he found no blood, no corpses, and no trace of Zhao Changhe.

If Zhao Changhe were in these mountains, he should be close enough to sense the aura of the Sword Pellet. But there was no such aura... Could it be that he was not in these mountains?

That would be troublesome. The tracks here were chaotic, impossible to follow...

Ye Wuzong stared at the sun sinking below the horizon, dumbfounded. Here he was, playing a game with a junior, and some expert had to come and ruin it with a fight!

And now the sun had set... Was he supposed to stumble around in the pitch dark, relying on luck to sense the Sword Pellet?

But even if he tried his luck, he was destined to fail.

Because by now, Zhao Changhe had already entered the secret realm.

...

When Xia Chichi took Yang Qianyuan to find Liu Tuzhang, Zhao Changhe sped northwest into the mountains.

In the dead of winter, the mountains were deserted, making it hard to conceal or confuse his trail. He could see his own footprints clearly, but there was no help for it.

Fortunately, he was well-versed in traversing mountains and ran swiftly. Now he had an added advantage—the Longque blade could be stored in his ring. The spatial separation negated its weight entirely, shedding dozens of pounds instantly. Zhao Changhe had never felt his lightness skill so good; he touched the treetops lightly, spreading his arms like a roc, as light as a bird.

Soon, he was nearing the first ridge.

Who dared call him a stinking bear now? Was there ever such an elegant bear?

Unbeknownst to him, the sun was setting.

Zhao Changhe found the scene beautiful—sunset on snow, clouds veiling the peaks—no less than the sunset over the Long River.

From afar came a woodcutter’s song: “Cloudy peaks, cut off from the dusty world; roaming, the pot holds heaven and earth wide...”

Zhao Changhe listened and unconsciously slowed his pace.

Yes... If Tang Wanzhuang were here, she would likely say again: slow down, look at the scenery along the way. You came to Kunlun, scheming and plotting—do you remember what Kunlun looks like? What is Jade Void? What is Kunlun Ridge?

A pity... Though the thought crossed his mind, his steps could not stop. Urgent matters pressed upon him; there was no time.

When the business was done, he would come back to see.

Ahead, an old woodcutter came down the mountain, carrying two baskets of firewood on his shoulder, walking in the sunset.

The mountain was bitterly cold, and the woodcutter’s clothes were thin. But this time, Zhao Changhe found it hard to judge whether the woodcutter was a master, as he had with Ye Wuzong selling wontons. After all, chopping wood made one sweat, so he might not be cold. Judging by his deep footprints in the snow, he did not seem particularly strong.

Zhao Changhe thought for a moment, then leaped from the treetop, used his Crane Control skill to draw a coat from his ring, and handed it to the woodcutter: “Old man, it’s cold going down the mountain. Take this coat.”

The woodcutter looked at him with some surprise and laughed: “In this land of evil, why such a heart?”

Zhao Changhe said: “My heart is my own; what has it to do with the land?”

The woodcutter laughed heartily: “Reasonable, reasonable...”

He set down his firewood, pulled out a gourd of wine, and took a satisfying sip: “I have wine to ward off the cold; I need no one else’s clothes. Take it back, young friend.”

Zhao Changhe did not insist. He put the coat away, untied his own gourd, and took a drink in return. A thought struck him: Damn, I forgot—is Tian Lingzi’s gourd still around?

Seeing him drink, the woodcutter laughed: “Young friend also wards off the cold?”

Zhao Changhe shook his gourd: “Just the pot holding heaven and earth wide.”

Who couldn’t show off?

The woodcutter laughed uproariously: “Heart racing like fire, burning your body—how can it be wide?”

Zhao Changhe said: “For the sake of width later.”

The woodcutter nodded: “Heartfire burning, manifesting outward—that is demonic. The evil of Kunlun is no different. Young friend, be cautious, lest there be no later.”

He kept steering the talk toward fire. Did this woodcutter know his destination, or was it coincidence?

Zhao Changhe grew serious and asked: “If heartfire becomes demonic, how should it be handled?”

“External demons can be slain; internal demons are hard to suppress—only emotion can tame them.” The woodcutter leisurely shouldered his firewood and continued down the mountain, saying no more.

Zhao Changhe watched his retreating back and suddenly called out: “When I finish my business, if I have interest in touring Kunlun, I’ll seek you out for a drink.”

The woodcutter laughed without turning: “How will you find me?”

Zhao Changhe said: “If you welcome me for a drink, you can leave an address. Kunlun is dangerous; it’s fine if you don’t.”

The woodcutter continued down the mountain.

The mountain wind carried his song: “I dwell in a cloud-water hut of three rooms, wind and moon, a thousand bamboo stems. Let the puppets clamor on their stage; I’ll watch from Kunlun’s peak. At ease, free from care; roaming, the pot holds heaven and earth wide.”

Zhao Changhe watched the woodcutter’s figure fade, and instead of finding him pretentious, he rather admired the mood. It seemed his literary streak was not stirred by Wanzhuang but was innate.

So he was compatible with Wanzhuang?

A pity that worldly affairs hurried on, and how long had it been since he last played the zither?

Everyone was the same—Wanzhuang herself was no different.

Zhao Changhe sighed, quickened his pace, and headed straight for the volcano.

Ye Wuzong was probably already on his tail; there was no time to savor this.

Crossing two more ridges, the sun was nearly gone. If the Sword Pellet’s guidance was correct, the secret realm should be on the ridge ahead—the place the people of Kunlun City called the site of “Blazing Kunlun.”

This place, steeped in legend, had been dug up and surveyed countless times. Clearly, like the legends of Ancient Sword Lake and Xuanwu Lake, those without fate could search forever and find nothing.

If he were to search on his own, Zhao Changhe had little confidence. The Xuanwu secret realm had not been cracked by him—it was the fate of Master Yuanxing. But this time, with the Sword Pellet’s guidance, the key was in hand, so there was hope.

Just as he thought this, flames suddenly erupted in the mountains ahead.

It was as if fire soared to the heavens, dyeing the clouds all around, making the sky over Kunlun seem red.

Of course, it was an illusion—but the ferocity of the flames ahead brought a psychological pressure.

He focused his gaze and saw a woman surrounded and attacked by a group of thugs.

The flame aura came not only from the woman but from all of them... He could almost see some people’s eyes taking the shape of flames—a fantastical and terrifying sight.

Flames upon flames, replacing their eyes...

Zhao Changhe suddenly recalled the woodcutter’s words: Heartfire burning, manifesting outward—that is demonic.

A group of demon-possessed... Whether it was because demonic possession tripled their strength, these people were formidable. Zhao Changhe felt each one was stronger than him. A sweep of a sword brought a blaze of fire; a palm strike sent a dragon of flame soaring.

The heat wave caused the surrounding snow to begin melting, turning into streams, and then evaporating.

But even more terrifying was the woman.

"Whoosh!" A delicate hand pierced through the blazing flames, seizing someone by the throat.

With a "Boom!" the flames erupted, reducing the opponent to charcoal.

Blades and swords struck from behind; the woman moved like a serpent, spread her wings like a bird, and as she flew past, another charred corpse fell.

A group of enemies, each of whom Zhao Changhe believed to be stronger than himself, none could survive a single round against her—a complete massacre! The ferocious aura shook the nine heavens, and her dharma manifestation emerged externally, forming the fiery illusion that had just stained the Kunlun Mountains.

Zhao Changhe sprinted forward, and as he drew closer, he could finally make out the woman's features.

Beneath her flame-like eyes was the long-missed face of Huangfu Qing.