055 The Pain of Memory (3)

Within the barrier, a cataclysm erupted as countless blades, brimming with the fiercest murderous intent, swept toward them.

The blades first tore through Lingji’s protective barrier. She screamed in agony and collapsed to the ground. In a panic, Fengming rushed to her side and held her tightly, shielding her with his own body. The two overlapping barriers managed to ward off some of the blades, but not all. Gradually, the relentless edges carved countless gashes across Fengming’s body. Enduring excruciating pain, he kept his wife firmly in his embrace, determined to protect her.

Drop by drop, blood trickled down, staining the earth beneath him a deep crimson. The pooling blood began to congeal, resembling clusters of burning flames, devouring everything they encountered. Phoenix blood naturally suppresses the power of ice and snow. The burning blood bought them a brief respite from danger.

Within the protective barrier, Fengming anxiously watched Lingji, having sensed her agony in that fleeting instant. She lay on the ground, her hand pressed tightly to her abdomen. Though the blades had not struck her directly, the intangible sword energy had wounded her all the same, as though her body had been cleaved in two. The searing pain left her nearly speechless.

“Lingji, how are you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m much better now.” Forcing herself to sit up, Lingji tried not to make him overly concerned.

“You’re trembling!” Fengming said, his worry deepening.

Lingji struggled to control the quivering of her fingers; it felt as if every ounce of strength had been drained from her body.

Fengming noticed something remarkable: everywhere his blood flowed, the blades retreated, as if terrified by the fiery blood. The blood of the Phoenix clan can withstand all forces of ice and snow.

This realization stirred something within him. Without hesitation, Fengming sliced open his own wrist, letting the blood flow outward. An invisible barrier formed around them, once again manifesting the Guardian.

“So, you are of the Phoenix clan,” the Guardian said in surprise. In his memory, when had the Phoenix clan ever been allied with the Earth Deities?

Fengming regarded the Guardian, rising slowly and expressionless. Anyone who dared harm his wife was his enemy. He placed Lingji behind him, shielding her from all threats.

“Did you think you could obtain Netherfire without paying any price? There’s no such thing as a free reward. Are you already overwhelmed? If you regret it now, it’s not too late. I’ll pretend none of this happened—leave, and I’ll spare your lives. Go back.”

“Go back? Impossible. We are determined to obtain the Netherfire, with or without your consent,” Fengming replied, his eyes unwavering. Once he set his sights on a goal, nothing could sway him. Now, he was resolved to sacrifice everything to protect Lingji.

Within this barrier, only by defeating the Guardian could they hope to achieve their original aim. No matter the cost, he would help Lingji fulfill her purpose. Though she had spoken nothing, he knew her well; should disaster befall the mortal realm, her fate would be sealed.

Lingji stood behind Fengming, and, in that moment, they fought as one. Their destinies were entwined; their lives, inseparable.

The Guardian let out a cold laugh. With a flick of his fingers, he summoned a powerful black energy—countless threads weaving through the air to form a vast, dark net. The tightly interlaced web encircled their protective barrier, gradually confining them to an ever-shrinking space. A tremendous pressure descended from above, threatening to crush everything beneath it.

Fengming felt his strength failing. Glancing back, he saw Lingji had already fallen, her hand clutching her abdomen, her face drained of all color.

The pain in Lingji’s abdomen only intensified. Each time she tried to summon her spiritual power, it was as if a sword pierced her heart, sapping her energy entirely. Why was this happening to her? What had gone wrong?

In the moment Fengming looked back at her, the Guardian unleashed an even mightier force, and Fengming collapsed beside Lingji. Still, he clung to her, intent on using his last remaining strength to protect his wife.

The Guardian looked down coldly at the scene, sneering, “Even if they regret it now and wish to leave the barrier, it’s too late.” More secret threads appeared in his hands, sealing off every breath of air around their protective barrier. “Since you refuse to leave, then you shall remain here forever!”

As the pressure mounted, blood began to trickle from the corners of Fengming’s mouth. What could he do now? What was wrong with Lingji? Her condition worried him deeply—he had never seen her so vulnerable. Though she seemed defenseless, Fengming was well aware of her strength; the power of the Earth Deity line could not be underestimated.

But now, he could not move. The pressure pinned him completely to the ground. He could see death looming closer.

Lingji, too, lay on the ground, acutely aware of the changes within her body and the pain deep in her heart. What was happening to her? As she lay there, she gradually sensed a power awakening—a force stirring to life. The pain in her heart began to fade, and her strength slowly returned. A strange, radiant light began to shimmer on her body—vivid and tender.

A sudden realization struck Lingji—she knew what this was! Could it truly be so? The moment she had dreamed of countless times was now arriving in the midst of mortal peril.

Her expression shifted from disbelief to overwhelming joy. Her trembling hand reached for her abdomen, imagining the tiny life taking shape within her. For so long, she had feared some terrible misfortune, forgetting that the heritage of the Earth Deity line always manifested thus: after all her power was drained, it would return, stronger and more focused.

Fengming, seeing her, called out with concern, “Lingji!”

She did not answer, still lost in the wonder of her discovery, her fingers trembling over her abdomen.

“Lingji!”

At last, Lingji looked at Fengming. She was fully restored—perhaps even stronger than before.

The Guardian sneered, his hand dropping suddenly. The black energy, destructive and all-consuming, surged toward their protective barrier.

Lingji raised her hand. No one would harm her child now.

A beam of dazzling light shot from her fingertips, striking toward the Guardian.

He staggered back in alarm—this was a power he had never encountered before.

Freed from the external pressure and temporarily out of danger, Fengming stood up, bewildered by Lingji’s sudden surge of power.

Lingji grasped his hand first, her fingers still trembling, her joy beyond words. She gazed at him, nodding emphatically. In that moment, their souls touched, conveying truths that only they could understand.

Fengming was stunned, then overjoyed as he realized the truth. He looked at Lingji in disbelief and ecstasy.

But the exhilaration of impending fatherhood was soon tempered by reality. As he considered what lay ahead, worry crept into his gaze. In silence, he conveyed his resolve: “Trust me, no matter what happens, believe in me. Leave everything to me—I will protect you both.”

Lingji, too, expressed her fears: “This child has come at the worst possible time. I’m afraid…” After the initial joy passed, they had to face the perils around them.

Compared to humans, the divine race faced even greater difficulties in bearing children. Their numbers were few; thus, each child was more precious. A goddess might bear only one child in her long life, sometimes none, and only a rare few would have more. For the Earth Deity lineage, a woman could only give birth once, nearly always to a daughter, with deviations exceedingly rare. Lingji had thought she would conceive her child at a more auspicious time, not in such peril. If anything happened to this child, the line of Earth Deities might end with her.

The countless scenarios Lingji had imagined were shattered by reality. In their darkest moment, they shared this joy.

Fengming looked at his wife, his heart filled with resolve—he would see her safely out of this place.

The Guardian, watching them, sensed a sudden surge of power within Lingji—a force both young and vibrant, innately countering his own. Although he saw nothing unusual, the silent exchange between Lingji and Fengming, their shifting expressions of joy and concern, made him wonder what could bring them happiness in such dire straits. He could not guess.

A small flame on his shoulder flickered wildly, as if having seen something. Glancing at it, the Guardian seemed to understand.

“If you seek the Netherfire, follow me,” he said, turning toward an unseen path.

Within the barrier, time and space twisted in strange ways. Fengming and Lingji exchanged a glance, uncertain what had made the Guardian change his mind so abruptly. Was this an opportunity, or a trap?

The Guardian paid them no further heed, walking away alone. With his departure, the barrier changed too, growing darker and more oppressive. The only remaining light was the Guardian himself, whose steps were measured, as though he were out for a leisurely stroll.

Ahead of the Guardian, a cluster of flames appeared—not as fierce as the sun over Sunset Mountain, nor blindingly brilliant, but eternal, never to be extinguished. Even from afar, its chill was palpable—a flame of utmost cold.

It was Netherfire—only Netherfire could burn so cold. Lingji suddenly realized: if the burning heat of the Sacred Earthfire could be balanced with the chill of Netherfire, then perhaps the union of these two extremes would stabilize the temperature of the mortal world.

Lingji gazed at the Netherfire, excitement in her eyes. She had never imagined it would appear so, but only a flame like this could truly be Netherfire.

Hand in hand, she and Fengming followed the Guardian into the unknown.