Chapter 9: The Fire Approaches

The small courtyard was serene and harmonious, its enclosing walls shutting out all the tempests of the world.

“I really don’t know what the chief is thinking,” Stone muttered to himself, as he carried away the meal box as usual. Gazing at the tightly closed gate and the utterly tranquil courtyard, a hint of confusion and curiosity welled up in his heart.

Ever since their return from Rooster’s Call Mountain, the chief had secluded himself in this little courtyard, hardly ever stepping out. He had refused even the visits of his most trusted lieutenants, Skinny Monkey and Bear Strength. Only Stone, who took care of his daily needs, was allowed the occasional glimpse.

“But whatever the chief does is not for me to fathom,” Stone chided himself, quickly reigning in his wandering thoughts.

He wasted no time in tidying up the rest of the items and promptly left the courtyard.

At the same time, within the secret chamber of the courtyard, Jiang Chen had reached a crucial moment in his cultivation. Bare-chested, he sat cross-legged on a mat, eyes closed in meditation, attuning himself to the spiritual energies of heaven and earth, drawing in the aura around him.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes, and a pale light flickered in the void.

“The time has come.”

He took out the blood from the heart of a white stag, carefully prepared in advance. Using blood as ink and his finger as a brush, he began to inscribe runes upon his chest, guiding the influx of spiritual energy.

His movements were slow and deliberate, all his focus bent on ensuring each stroke resonated with the surrounding forces. The chamber filled with a strange and potent scent of blood.

Time slipped by; who could tell how long had passed? At last, with the final stroke, blood-red energy surged wildly, pouring into his chest. The runes settled, coalescing into a vivid crimson flame upon his breast.

“Bloodflame Art—success.”

A searing heat radiated from his chest, as though a fire was burning within. A faint smile appeared on Jiang Chen’s lips. After days of effort, he had finally achieved the initial mastery of this sigil technique.

“Come, flame!”

He conjured the technique, and with a gesture, a blossom of blood-red fire appeared in his palm.

As he sensed the power within the flame, Jiang Chen’s eyes betrayed a trace of wonder. Though it appeared scorching, it was merely warm to the touch. It had no effect on inanimate objects, but for living flesh, it was deadly. Should any living being come into contact with this fire, their vital essence would ignite, their blood would boil and evaporate, leaving behind only a desiccated corpse.

“Though Jiang Wang was a wandering cultivator, he did have a lineage. This Bloodflame Art seems savage, but it is in truth a supporting technique, mainly used to refine vital essence. Its true applications—I’ll only know once I examine the inheritance within the storage pouch.”

Recalling what he’d read in the Daoist manual, Jiang Chen mused deeply. After a moment, he closed his fingers, extinguishing the bloodflame.

“All techniques and arts in this world are rooted in that mysterious Dao, each a manifestation of one aspect of the Great Way. The power of this Bloodflame Art is indeed wondrous. Its nature reminds me of a certain psychic I once encountered.”

“If I apply the worldview of this realm, perhaps my own psychic powers—and those of all the psychics from the Star of Arcana—are manifestations of the Dao as well. Their essence might simply be naturally awakened arts. After all, in this world, there are similar phenomena. Take demon beasts, for instance: their bloodlines may carry innate inheritances.”

His thoughts drifted, and from the Bloodflame Art, Jiang Chen pondered his own soul powers, and then the definitions of supernatural force in this world and on the Star of Arcana.

In terms of supernatural heritage, this realm far surpassed the Star of Arcana. If he used the theories of this world as a foundation, then the Soul Illumination, Mind-Bewitching, Gaze-Kill, and Spirit-Imbuing techniques he had developed from his soul powers could also be called “arts”—manifestations of the Dao.

Of course, this was just conjecture. The two worlds were different, and the truth might be far from his speculation. As for whether this guess was right or wrong, it was not something Jiang Chen could yet determine.

“With the Bloodflame Art mastered, I have truly established myself among the pirates of the Surging River. But this is only the beginning.”

Gathering his thoughts, Jiang Chen rose and went to a hidden compartment in the corner of the secret room. Inside lay two items: a Daoist manual and a storage pouch.

He glanced at the pouch, then took out the manual. Its pages were faintly yellowed with the marks of time.

A short while later, with the Daoist manual in hand, Jiang Chen left the secret chamber.

Beneath the peach tree, upon a stone table, with a small red clay stove, Jiang Chen leisurely brewed himself a cup of tea. Perhaps it was the constant tension of life in the apocalypse, but he now cherished these rare moments of tranquil respite all the more.

Lowering his head, he inhaled the faint fragrance of tea, took a sip, and set the cup down gently. The tea was simple, wild leaves from the mountain, with a subtle aroma and a pronounced bitterness. Yet it possessed a certain resilience and depth, and when paired with water from the spiritual spring, it had a flavor all its own.

After returning from Rooster’s Call Mountain, Jiang Chen had placed the spirit spring stone in the courtyard’s well. After several days, the water had acquired a faint spiritual quality.

“Techniques are for protection; only the Dao is the ladder to the heavens.”

Savoring his tea and perusing the Daoist manual, Jiang Chen immersed himself in this precious leisure.

Perhaps it was a shift in his state of mind, but Jiang Chen now gained new insights from the manual in his hands. It was not his first time studying it, and it contained no profound techniques—merely the most basic methods of drawing in spiritual energy, such as the Spirit Pine Breathing Method and the Willow Down Vitality Cultivation, one focused on stillness, the other on movement.

Yet this time, Jiang Chen perceived something different. As he lost himself in its study, the Spirit Pine Breathing Method began to operate spontaneously within him, drawing in spiritual energy from all around.

Normally, cultivating through stillness required a cultivator to enter deep meditation, quieting all distractions. Those lacking in discipline even needed incense or similar aids. But now, as Jiang Chen read the Daoist manual, he found himself instinctively attuned to the method, as if it had shed its former constraints and naturally gravitated toward him—as though it had been tailored specifically for him.

Time passed, and Jiang Chen became utterly absorbed in the mysteries of the Dao. The spiritual energy around him grew denser, suffusing him with a subtle, ethereal radiance beneath the morning sun. His face, once sallow and wan, now took on a faint aura of otherworldliness, the bearing of a true cultivator.

“So this is how it is.”

With the technique in harmony with his being, Jiang Chen found new understanding in many matters.

Throughout this process, spiritual energy continually washed through his body, tempering anew his limbs, which had already been refined. Previously, though the former host, Jiang Wang, had used the breathing technique to temper his limbs, the refinement was incomplete, leaving many subtle imperfections. Now, these flaws were being mended.

For most cultivators, such tiny blemishes meant little; to painstakingly pursue utter perfection would only delay one’s progress, for a cultivator’s time was precious and could not be squandered.