Chapter 52: The Art of the Fire Serpent

Upon the river’s surface, three pirate ships had already lashed themselves to the merchant vessel. Bodies, one after another, were cast into the water, and the once-fierce cries of slaughter gradually faded.

Inside the cabin, through the narrow gap in the door, Hongyu watched the chaos outside, her expression tinged with complexity.

“Young master, Lin Yong has been killed. The attackers should be the River-Sweeping Bandits. There are two formidable martial artists among them, and one wields talismanic arts—impervious to blades and spears. He’s likely the bandit leader, Ironman Tu. The ship’s guards have been nearly wiped out.”

The trace of complexity vanished from Hongyu’s face, replaced by worry as she looked toward An Yuxuan, who was seated in meditation, regulating his breath.

Their escape had been fraught with peril. Early on, An Yuxuan’s whereabouts had been accidentally exposed. It was a dire brush with death; if not for the secret protections bestowed by his family, he would have been captured then. Even so, he’d emerged gravely wounded.

At Hongyu’s words, An Yuxuan finally opened his eyes.

“Lin Yong truly was useless,” he said.

A trace of anger marred his pale features as he rose. He felt no sorrow for Lin Yong’s death—only rage. Rage at Lin Yong’s incompetence, at his failure to shield him from these brigands.

Hongyu could only lower her head in silence at this display.

“Our movements cannot be exposed. If I must act, then let none of them leave here alive.”

With that, An Yuxuan swallowed a pill to suppress his injuries.

After completing this, he stepped out of the room. By then, the battle on the deck was over. With Lin Yong dead, the merchant vessel’s guards had lost the will to fight against the ruthless bandits and quickly surrendered.

Witnessing this scene only deepened the murderous intent in An Yuxuan’s heart.

“Die—all of you!”

He formed a series of incantations. Five small fireballs appeared in his palm—a talismanic technique known as Lesser Fireball, widely practiced, though the Five-Fingered Fireball variant he used was a unique refinement passed down through generations of the An family, superior to the common form.

“Go!”

Without hesitation, An Yuxuan hurled all five fireballs.

The fireballs grew as they caught the wind. The sudden onslaught left the bandits stunned; only a few managed to react in time.

In an instant, the fireballs exploded, igniting the brigands. The deck became a sea of flames.

Agonized screams echoed as the bandits writhed on the boards, desperately trying to extinguish the flames consuming them. Many, desperate to survive, leapt into the river—only to sink without a sound. Against a spiritual cultivator’s arts, ordinary men were pitifully defenseless.

Watching this, a feverish flush crept over An Yuxuan’s pale face. With the An clan annihilated and himself forced into flight, he had long been seething with suppressed fury. Now, at last, he could unleash it.

But in the next moment, several figures lunged at him from all sides, led by Jia Yi.

An Yuxuan snorted coldly. With a swift incantation, flames surged from his body, enshrouding him in a blazing mantle.

At that instant, a Black Guard’s blade came down hard on him. Not only did it fail to wound An Yuxuan, but flames ran up the weapon, scorching the attacker’s arm.

An Yuxuan smiled at the sight. The Fire Cloak technique was both offensive and defensive; anyone who sought to harm him would suffer its backlash.

But his smile soon faded. The Black Guard’s reaction was wholly unexpected. Even as his arm burned, he showed no pain, his grip on the sword unwavering—cold as death itself.

With grim resolve, he struck again. The other four Black Guards arrived, just as fearless, slashing in concert.

Though the Fire Cloak shielded An Yuxuan, after three successive blows the Black Guards themselves were consumed by fire, reduced to blazing effigies. Yet the flames around An Yuxuan had dimmed considerably.

Seeing the relentless attacks, a chill crept into An Yuxuan’s heart. He forced himself to focus, forming another spell, and hastily cast another round of fireballs. But at that moment, Jia Yi made his move.

With his body protected by Ironclad Technique and impervious to the Fire Cloak’s backlash, he tore through the fiery defenses and slammed his palm into An Yuxuan’s chest.

In a flash, An Yuxuan was sent hurtling back, crashing into the cabin like a cannonball.

“Young master!” Hongyu, who had been hiding nearby, screamed in terror, her voice thick with worry.

Meanwhile, Jia Yi charged into the room, intent on finishing An Yuxuan. But in the next instant, a whip-like vine lashed out, flinging him back.

“So, these are death soldiers—strange and unnatural. Looks like there’s a cultivator behind the River-Sweeping Bandits as well.”

Blood trickled from the corner of An Yuxuan’s mouth as he struggled up from the wreckage. His once-white robe was dust-stained, his former arrogance now replaced by a grim, sullen expression. A wooden bracelet on his wrist glowed faintly with spiritual light—a talismanic artifact.

It was this artifact that had allowed An Yuxuan to withstand Jia Yi’s killing blow and drive him back.

“I hadn’t wanted to use this—but it seems there’s no choice.”

He glanced out of the ruined room at Jia Yi, who was already rising to his feet. A vicious light flickered in An Yuxuan’s eyes. If not for his injuries, he would never have been forced into such dire straits by a mere martial artist.

At that moment, Zhou Quan, the bandits’ second-in-command, had gathered the survivors to surround him. A cultivator was indeed fearsome, but a dying one was a walking treasure trove.

An Yuxuan’s resolve hardened. He knew he could not escape safely with Hongyu on his own.

“You leave me no choice. But if you die under the arts of a Qi-refining cultivator, your deaths will not have been in vain.”

With a single thought, An Yuxuan produced a talisman. Three fingers wide, inscribed with arcane patterns, it radiated a subtle warmth.

Without hesitation, he spat a mouthful of blood onto the talisman.

At the sight, Zhou Quan’s instincts screamed of imminent danger.

“Attack!” he ordered, retreating a step.

The next instant, as the bandits charged, An Yuxuan fully activated the talisman.

Scarlet flames surged through the cabin—a fire serpent coiled forth, engulfing every bandit. In that moment, the entire ship was set ablaze.

This was the Serpent of Fire.