She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 115

"Ah, you're finally here!" Yan Luoyue exclaimed.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she shook the hairpin in her hand, activating a spell that restored it to its original form—a Mirror Image Tree.

In the blink of an eye, the slender, stylish black-and-white hairpin transformed into a towering tree, thick and imposing, its trunk split starkly into black and white halves. The sudden appearance of such an unusual tree drew the attention of many cultivators mid-battle, their gazes flickering toward it in curiosity. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

To most onlookers, it simply seemed like a tree summoned by some spell or perhaps an eccentric magical artifact.

Only Ji Qinghong’s eyes flickered imperceptibly at first, nearly mistaking it for Yan Luoyue herself arriving on the scene.

It wasn’t until he recognized the distinctive black-and-white fruit hanging from its branches that he realized the tree’s true identity.

Observing the stark division of colors and recalling Yan Luoyue’s legendary resilience, Ji Qinghong had already begun to piece together her intentions.

The ancestors of the Hongtong Palace, however, knew nothing of Yan Luoyue’s capabilities.

While one or two among them recognized this mutated Mirror Image Tree, none could fathom what use a tree could possibly serve in the midst of battle.

One of them even sneered openly, baring his teeth in a vicious grin. "What, did you summon the Black-and-White Tree of Impermanence to cheat death?"

Watching his ignorant yet cheerful expression, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but feel genuinely happy for him.

After all, it had been a long time since she’d encountered someone with such a healthy, confident, fearless, and optimistic attitude—one so unafraid of hardship.

Within the Guiyuan Sect, most sword cultivators who encountered Yan Luoyue would immediately twitch, their expressions torn between love and hatred:

Love, because she was the sturdiest training dummy they’d ever met.

Hatred, because she was the sturdiest training dummy they’d ever met!

As for her "beloved consorts" in the Spirit Realm, well—that went without saying.

A few years prior, Yan Luoyue had achieved a miraculous feat in the Spirit Realm.

Under Cen Mingxiao’s direction, the realm had once held a simulated demon invasion drill.

Participants: All combat forces from the Thirteen Cities.

Role-playing the demon invaders: Yan Luoyue, alone.

And then… well, there was no "then."

After ten days and nights of relentless assault, even the spiritual avatars collapsed from exhaustion.

As for Yan Luoyue? She hadn’t done anything particularly outrageous—just enjoyed over a dozen delicious meals during that time.

Oh, and those meals? They were lavish extra rations sent by Wu Manshuang, who thought she was working too hard.

When the simulation ended, the translucent spirit beings floated around like sunfish, their eyes rolled back, mouths foaming, drifting aimlessly in the air.

Under the sunlight, their aggrieved and resentful faces could have starred in a horror film.

—They wanted those crispy, juicy meat rations too!

—Wahhh, Yan Luoyue wasn’t the one suffering! They were the ones suffering—physically and mentally!

—She had played Tetris on her handheld console the entire time they were attacking!

In short, the ancestors’ taunts instantly transported Yan Luoyue back to those nostalgic days, filling her with a sense of warm reminiscence.

Gazing at them with almost maternal fondness, she sighed approvingly. "How wonderful. Truly, ‘newborn calves aren’t afraid of tigers.’"

The four ancestors: "???"

Wait a minute—wasn’t there something off about her tone and choice of words?

As for Ji Qinghong, he had already buried his face in one hand, his silvery-white hair spilling over his shoulders as he shook with unrestrained laughter.

Yan Luoyue plucked a tiny sliver of bark from the black half of the tree, grinding it into a fine, nearly invisible dust.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the particles scattering into the wind, drifting straight toward Ji Qinghong.

Though they hadn’t seen each other in over two years and had never discussed the nature of this artifact, master and disciple shared an unspoken understanding.

Especially when collaborating on morally questionable schemes—their synergy was almost telepathic.

Ji Qinghong didn’t even need to look at Yan Luoyue’s face to know that the powder she’d tossed his way was nothing good.

The white-haired, crimson-eyed demon sovereign curled his lips into a smile brimming with amusement.

Without hesitation, he seized the opportunity—even at the cost of his last remaining defensive array—and guided the black powder straight onto the four ancestors.

Yes, this was the purpose of Yan Luoyue’s Mirror Image Tree.

She had bound the white half of the tree to her own health bar.

As for the black half—whether it was leaves, bark, flowers, or fruit—anyone who came into contact with it would, for a time, form a peculiar health link with Yan Luoyue.

In simple terms: If Yan Luoyue lost a million HP, so would they.

Of course, the Mirror Image Tree’s effects worked both ways.

Meaning, if they lost a million HP, Yan Luoyue would lose a million HP as well.

Perfectly fair, wasn’t it?

Such fairness was a rare treasure in this world—one that couldn’t be found even with a lantern in hand!

Had the black powder been applied directly from the tree, the ancestors might not have cared.

But since it had passed through Ji Qinghong’s hands, they couldn’t help but be wary.

When the powder first clung to them, their expressions darkened with suspicion.

They inspected themselves internally while exchanging glances, checking one another for abnormalities.

But after a few breaths, confirming that the powder had no immediate effect, smirks of disdain crept back onto their faces.

One of them scoffed, "Ji Qinghong, your hair’s gone so white—senility must have set in."

Another chimed in, "A little girl playing house on the battlefield? Tch. You really dote on this disciple of yours, don’t you?"

A third sneered, "—In that case, I’ll gift you her head!"

No sooner had he spoken than the third ancestor materialized beside Yan Luoyue.

His speed was so immense that his afterimage lingered in place, creating the illusion of two ancestors standing simultaneously on the battlefield.

With a flick of his sleeve, he drew a gleaming golden sword—clearly no ordinary weapon.

A single swing sent a blade of wind rippling through the air, aimed to cleave Yan Luoyue cleanly in half!

Someone witnessing this scene shouted, "A grand ancestor bullying a junior disciple—have you no shame?!"

The fourth ancestor chuckled leisurely, shamelessly retorting,

"If she can’t even withstand a single strike from Brother Wan, then as Ji Qinghong’s disciple, she’s the one without shame."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he suddenly felt a tearing, excruciating pain shoot through his body from head to toe, right along his central axis.

This feeling… this feeling…

Damn this feeling—it was as if someone had cleaved him clean in half with a single sword stroke!

“!!!”

Though startled and suspicious, he was, after all, a battle-hardened veteran. The moment he sensed something amiss, he immediately raised his head to look in Yan Luoyue’s direction.

And what he saw was Yan Luoyue standing perfectly unharmed right where she had been.

Not only was the girl not split in two, there wasn’t even a single scratch on her forehead.

“……”

Noticing his gaze, the young woman even had the audacity to cheer him on: “You’re absolutely right—whoever can’t withstand a single strike from Ancestor Wan has no shame. Oh, by the way, it looks like your forehead’s been split open. Maybe you should wipe the blood off first? Otherwise, what’ll happen to your face?”

The fourth ancestor: “……”

No wonder Ji Qinghong had taken this little girl as his disciple.

Truly, master and disciple were cut from the same cloth—two peas in a pod when it came to infuriating others.

Ancestor Wan, who had delivered that sword strike, naturally also felt the sudden, searing pain coursing through his body.

Unlike the other three, he was far more familiar with his own sword energy. Thus, he was absolutely certain about the source of the damage he’d just received.

With a cold sneer, Ancestor Wan scoffed, “No wonder a brat like you dares to act so arrogantly.”

If she could reflect his attack right back at him, she must be wearing some kind of protective magical garment.

Thinking this, Ancestor Wan didn’t hesitate in the slightest.

In one swift motion, he leveled his sword, shifting from a downward slash to a horizontal sweep, aiming straight for Yan Luoyue’s exposed neck—a spot clearly devoid of any protection!

This strike was executed with absolute precision—too clean, too decisive, too ruthlessly efficient.

The sword’s intent surged like a tsunami, its energy as unrestrained as ocean waves. As for the overwhelming killing intent, it was like the thunder in a storm, the shadow of black clouds piling layer upon layer over the sea. A mere hint of it was enough to freeze a person in place.

By all accounts—timing, execution, and sheer artistry—this strike was flawless.

Even if Jiang Tingbai had been present, purely from an aesthetic standpoint, he would’ve applauded it.

And indeed, it was an outstanding strike.

Because the moment Ancestor Wan’s sword descended, the first ancestor who had just spoken—his head went flying!

“……”

In his final moments, the man’s face was still twisted in disbelief.

Blood gushed from his neck, spraying over fifteen meters high, while his head hit the ground and rolled away.

Generally speaking, figures of their stature—once they sensed danger—could abandon their physical bodies and let their souls escape to regroup.

But this man had died completely unprepared: Who could’ve imagined that his death wouldn’t come from an enemy, but from an ally?!

Even in death, his eyes remained wide open, as if still cursing—What the hell kind of nonsense is this?! Since when does this make any sense?!

Yan Luoyue, of course, was all about making sense.

So she immediately clapped her hands like a seal, mimicking the tone of an utterly indifferent customer service rep, and loudly praised:

“Wow, you’re amazing! You just chopped off 999,999 HP in one hit! That’s practically ‘one strike, 99% gone’! Keep it up—just 1% more, and you’ll succeed!”

—Oh, but success was, of course, impossible.

As everyone knew, after 1%, there’d still be 0.1%, 0.01%, 0.001%...

In short, don’t ask—it’s the same old trick used to lure sixty thousand people into helping you hack away at a deal. Classic Pinduoduo tactics.

Ancestor Wan glanced back, saw his fellow elder lying dead, and instantly flew into a frenzy.

“You…!”

Yan Luoyue blinked innocently. “Me what?”

She hadn’t done anything—she’d just been standing there, obediently taking hits.

Just look at her health bar for proof: Her HP, a staggering 10 to the 13th power, had only dropped by the tiniest sliver!

The third ancestor reacted the fastest, immediately recalling the powder Yan Luoyue had tossed earlier.

He demanded sharply, “What kind of sorcery is this?!”

Generally, the techniques a cultivator could use were limited by their own cultivation level.

For example, self-destruction unleashed tremendous energy.

But even if a Golden Core cultivator self-destructed right in the palm of a Mahayana ancestor, the worst they could do was leave a scratch.

This little girl in front of them was only at the Nascent Soul stage—barely a step above Golden Core.

What kind of demonic art had she used to… to transfer all the damage she received onto the four of them?

And how had she targeted them so precisely, leaving everyone else completely unharmed?

Yan Luoyue scratched her head sheepishly. “Well, it’s not really sorcery.”

The moment she spoke, the three ancestors focused intently on her.

Seeing how seriously they took this, Yan Luoyue felt even more sympathetic.

“Ah… have none of you ever played with the gaming consoles produced by the Guiyuan Sect?”

If they’d spent any money at the Guiyuan Sect’s gaming halls—which had now replaced their Silver Light Arena—and played a few rounds, they’d have figured it out easily.

In short, it was just the aggro-lock mechanism.

While Yan Luoyue was speaking, Ancestor Wan had already drawn his sword again, stubbornly striking her a third time.

However, his strength betrayed his technique.

This third sword strike lacked the lethal intent of the previous two.

But with the first two full-powered attacks as the foundation, when the third strike landed, another ancestor finally couldn’t hold on—his internal organs injured, blood trickling continuously from the corner of his mouth.

The third ancestor instantly caught on. “Old Wan, stop attacking! Come back!”

The second ancestor chimed in, “Yes, every time we attack her, we end up hurting ourselves…”

If that was the case, then perhaps the reverse was also true.

A flash of inspiration struck the third ancestor. “If that’s how it works, then if we’re the ones being attacked…”

Then the damage would naturally be transferred to that little girl!

Realizing this, the third ancestor acted without hesitation.

And, embracing the philosophy of “better you die than me”—especially when “you” happened to be someone he didn’t get along with—he immediately lashed out, striking Elder Geng with a palm strike!

Everyone witnessing this on the battlefield: “……”

Hold on, things were moving way too fast.

They hadn’t even processed what was happening, and now the Hongtong Palace was already tearing itself apart?!

Caught off guard by the attack, Elder Geng’s rate of blood loss visibly increased.

He was clearly furious. “Elder Pan—!”

Elder Pan declared righteously, “My apologies, Brother Geng. This is for a greater cause.”

The force behind that palm strike was enough to kill an ordinary Nascent Soul cultivator instantly—

Wait, what?!

Why was that little girl still standing there, alive and kicking, even shaking her finger at him in disappointment?

“So sorry,” Yan Luoyue said solemnly, “but you’re no longer a new user.”

"So, with that strike of yours, you've only managed to chop off 0.0001%. Why not recommend Elder Geng here to your friends and have them help you chop him down together?"

The three ancestors of Hongtong Palace: "..."

Everyone else on the battlefield: "..."

In other words, just how did you come up with such a devious trick, and how could you even say it out loud?

It could be said that in their millennia-long lives, the ancestors of Hongtong Palace felt, for the first time, as if they had seen a ghost.

They no longer wished to engage with Yan Luoyue.

After all, if the disciple is untaught, the fault lies with the master. The three wisely redirected their focus back to Ji Qinghong.

Compared to the smiling Yan Luoyue, even the white-haired, red-eyed Ji Qinghong seemed downright benevolent.

In short, after the recent skirmish, everyone unanimously agreed: the student had indeed surpassed the master.

Ji Qinghong's disciple was far more infuriating than he was!

But just because they "let go" of Yan Luoyue didn’t mean she would let go of them.

Seeing the three ancestors swiftly retreat with an air of "we won’t stoop to your level, little girl," Yan Luoyue chuckled and extended her hand to the side.

"Man Shuang," she called softly.

In the next moment, Wu Manshuang took her hand, their fingers interlacing seamlessly.

The motion was so natural and fluid, smoother than one folding their own hands.

After all, in the years before this, they had done it countless times.

Each other’s limbs were as familiar as their own.

The moment their fingers locked, Yan Luoyue’s health bar dipped slightly.

The ancestors opposite noticed this sudden weakness and scrambled to rid themselves of the powder they’d been dusted with earlier.

But once the powder had touched them, the connection with Yan Luoyue was already established.

Even if they tried to brush it off now, it was too late.

Yan Luoyue curled her lips, about to toss out another witty remark, when Wu Manshuang spoke up.

"Luoyue, let’s speed things up a bit more, shall we?"

"Hmm?" How?

The next second, she was gently pulled into Wu Manshuang’s embrace.

He bent slightly, pressing his forehead against hers.

His warm breath was gentler than a spring breeze.

The warmth of their skin touching was more intoxicating than autumn rain.

Wu Manshuang’s gaze was like melted glue, or the opposite pole of a magnet, drawing Yan Luoyue’s eyes inexorably toward him.

She saw frost-like patterns blooming in his obsidian-dark eyes.

And atop those patterns, her own reflection slowly unfurled.

At that moment, Yan Luoyue’s health bar trembled violently alongside her heartbeat.

Even though they weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, just holding each other as usual, an inexplicable sweetness rose on her tongue.

Yan Luoyue thought to herself: I’m really beyond saving...

"Enough, enough—they’re beyond saving now."

Ji Qinghong strode over, grinding his teeth slightly as he plucked the two love-struck youths apart by the scruff of their necks.

"As for you two..."

He looked at each of them in turn, his expression indescribable.

Honestly, after knowing him for so long, this was the first time Yan Luoyue had seen Ji Qinghong wear such a pained look.

It was so rare that she almost regretted not having invented a Polaroid camera yet.

Tsk, if only she could snap a photo of him now and turn it into a giant poster to hang in Sulü Hall.

Ji Qinghong had no idea such treasonous thoughts were running through her mind—otherwise, a few more tufts of rabbit fur might’ve been lost to rage.

After scrutinizing them with that pained expression for a while, Ji Qinghong finally scoffed.

"You two... Hah, I’ve known for a while."

He was, after all, an experienced man with functioning eyes.

For these two brats to have worked together so seamlessly all this time, constantly infuriating him—ahem, accomplishing feats of great difficulty—there had to be some kind of telepathic bond between them.

Perhaps even Ji Qinghong himself didn’t realize that, as he teased the childhood sweethearts, a faint trace of melancholy flickered in the corners of his eyes.

Yan Luoyue studied him and suddenly recalled the portrait of their grandmaster in Sulü Hall.

She had never been particularly sensitive to such things before.

But recently, it was as if her meridians had been unblocked.

Understanding one thing led to understanding a hundred others. Somehow, she grasped Ji Qinghong’s feelings in an instant.

If Wu Manshuang were harmed, she would probably...

Her gaze wavered slightly before she looked up. "Master, back when you and Grandmaster were childhood sweethearts..."

"..."

Ji Qinghong raised a brow, giving her a look that said, "Are you stating the obvious?" and "We were no less impressive than you brats."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

After a moment’s thought, she swallowed the rest of her words.

Actually, she had just remembered something: in Worlds Unite, there was a player named Yun Sulü.

When Yan Luoyue first created her character and was adjusting to human life in the game, she had even consulted this person about a forging technique.

Hmm... Now that she thought about it, some of the tricks in that technique bore similarities to Ji Qinghong’s forging style.

After brief consideration, Yan Luoyue decided not to mention it yet.

First, Ji Qinghong had already embraced the Path of Emotionlessness.

Second, she wasn’t sure what had become of Worlds Unite in the past decade or so.

Without concrete confirmation, she didn’t want to raise false hopes.

Just as Yan Luoyue was deep in thought, Ji Qinghong, who had already drifted away, suddenly sidled back over.

Though her master was a rabbit, sometimes he acted downright dog-like.

Like now, when he was clearly planning to freeload off Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang’s combat prowess.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Normally, Yan Luoyue would seize the chance to pluck a few strands of his fur, adding color to life’s tapestry.

But since she’d just been thinking about their grandmaster... she’d let it slide this time.

Clearing her throat, Yan Luoyue seized the opportunity to ask, "So, Master, about your Path of Emotionlessness... Is there any chance you could switch to another path?"

She made it sound as easy as a college student changing majors.

Wu Manshuang glanced at her, then seemed to understand something, a flicker of realization in his eyes.

Hearing the question, Ji Qinghong chuckled and shook his head, as if Yan Luoyue had lost her mind.

Still, he answered, "You’ve seen my forging flames many times. Haven’t you noticed anything odd about them?"

Yan Luoyue: "Huh?"

Weren’t we just talking about the Path of Emotionlessness? How did the conversation shift to the fire seed?

But indeed, Ji Qinghong’s fire seed felt exceptionally unique to Yan Luoyue.

Logically speaking, the Wuti Flame was the progenitor of all flames, so every rare fire in the world should carry a trace of Wuti’s essence.

Yet, Yan Luoyue had never sensed such a thing in Ji Qinghong’s fire seed.

Moreover, when Yan Luoyue deciphered the map and obtained the Wuti Flame’s offshoot—the Solitary Goose Shadow—Ji Qinghong, though watching from the sidelines, showed no hint of greed.

His explanation was simple: his fire seed was different.

"...That’s my love flame."

When Ji Qinghong mentioned this, his tone was as calm as if he were saying, "That flame was lit from the canteen stove," without even a flicker of emotion.

"What keeps that flame burning is my emotions."

In short, after the team’s destruction and Yun Sulü’s death, Ji Qinghong extracted his own overwhelming, scorching emotions and refined them into this flame using a special method.

From then on, this flame had been flickering within Ji Qinghong’s dantian.

It burned for three thousand years without weakening or extinguishing.

"I see."

Yan Luoyue lightly tapped her left palm with her right fist. "I understand now—so when you switched to the Path of Emotionlessness, you took a shortcut, didn’t you?"

Ji Qinghong: "..."

Well, she truly was the disciple he raised—always quick to grasp the key point.

He gave Yan Luoyue a deep look, while mentally conjuring up seven or eight scenarios of violently sawing wood.

Yan Luoyue pressed further, "So if one day you no longer want to cultivate the Path of Emotionlessness, you can just reabsorb the fire seed, right?"

"..."

From Yan Luoyue’s repeated questions, Ji Qinghong detected an unusual undertone.

He turned her attitude over in his mind, feeling the flame in his chest burning hotter than ever.

Yet, his expression remained unreadable, and he even managed a lazy smile.

"It’s difficult, but possible—if I ever feel bored enough, I might just take your advice."

Hearing this, Yan Luoyue immediately smiled.

"Good, I’m satisfied. Master, you can stay here and keep fighting. Manshuang and I are off to visit the famous southern tourist attraction—Hongtong Palace!"

Ji Qinghong: "???"

"What’s so special about Hongtong Palace?" Ji Qinghong scoffed.

"Ah, it’s rare to get in without buying tickets!"

With that, Yan Luoyue happily dragged Wu Manshuang away, leaving Ji Qinghong behind.

The moment they left, the surrounding attacks shifted to Ji Qinghong, who had been idling until then.

Normally, Ji Qinghong wouldn’t have let his two disciples leave so easily.

But today, he didn’t stop them. Instead, he gazed thoughtfully at Yan Luoyue’s retreating figure.

After a long while, Ji Qinghong suddenly smiled.

He had laughed at many amusing things before—mockery was amusing, teasing was amusing, conflict was amusing, even foolishness had its charm.

Everything in the world had some value in eliciting a laugh.

But this time, Ji Qinghong was smiling for himself.

...

Wu Manshuang and Yan Luoyue circled Hongtong Palace once.

Their arrival swiftly shifted the balance of the battlefield.

This change was quickly noticed by the Hongtong Palace members, who reported it to the still-unseen Master of Hongtong Palace.

"—What?!"

An angry roar echoed through the vast hall, bouncing off the walls in layers.

The trembling messenger knelt on the ground, not daring to lift his head.

He stammered, "There’s a pair of young men and women—they’ve turned the battlefield into a bloodbath..."

The Master of Hongtong Palace bellowed, "How dare they!"

After venting his fury, he took a breath and asked suspiciously, "How could two people turn the battlefield into a bloodbath? Has Hongtong Palace become so weak?"

The subordinate shut his eyes in distress. "Because they—no, she—literally used her own blood to wash the battlefield."

Master of Hongtong Palace: "???"

This subordinate usually made sense—why did he sound utterly nonsensical now?

"What do you mean?"

The subordinate trembled like a leaf, barely managing to speak under the oppressive aura.

"Master, we don’t understand the specifics either... but they say she struck herself once, and then all our people died."

Master of Hongtong Palace: "..."

This explanation only deepened the confusion.

Hearing this, the Master of Hongtong Palace gave his subordinate a skeptical look.

He hadn’t activated the blood-wine curse to turn this man into a mindless puppet, but it seemed the subordinate’s brain had already been corroded beyond repair.

The Master of Hongtong Palace darkened his expression. "Tell me their identities in detail."

The subordinate said, "A boy and a girl, youthful in appearance, only at the Nascent Soul stage..."

He was abruptly cut off.

The expression on the middle-aged man’s face would make his enemies shudder.

The Master of Hongtong Palace laughed in cold fury. "Only Nascent Soul?!"

Since when could Nascent Soul cultivators influence a battle of this scale?

If Nascent Soul cultivators were this powerful, why bother with Deity Transformation or Great Ascension? Everyone might as well stop at Nascent Soul.

The oppressive atmosphere in the hall was suffocating.

The subordinate had practically melted into the floor. "Yes, only Nascent Soul, Master. The girl controls a giant tree..."

Before he could describe the black-and-white tree, the Master of Hongtong Palace abruptly stood up.

Luckily, the subordinate was face-down.

Otherwise, he would have seen the Master’s face pale for an instant.

The next moment, the stormy pressure in the hall vanished. The Master of Hongtong Palace waved dismissively. "I know who they are. You may leave."

As the subordinate crawled out, he sighed in relief—

Thankfully, the Master hadn’t punished him for incompetence with the blood wine.

Since the Master knew their identities, he surely had a way to deal with them, right?

Had the subordinate seen the Master’s expression, he wouldn’t have been so confident.

Inside the hall, the Master of Hongtong Palace looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

If his name were Huang He, and he ran a leather factory in Jiangnan, this would be the moment he’d flee with his sister-in-law.

—The moment he heard about the "giant tree," he knew exactly who they were.

Now, the Master of Hongtong Palace wanted to scream at the heavens: Wasn’t the Moonfall Tree’s true form supposed to be in the demon realm? When was it transplanted to the human world?

If he didn’t flee now, when would he?

Did he really want to challenge the avatars of two divine entities?

That would be courting death.

...

Yan Luoyue had no idea that someone had mistaken the Mirror Image Tree for her true form, the Falling Moon Wood.

After sweeping the battlefield to ensure their absolute advantage, she and Wu Manshuang infiltrated the interior of Hongtong Palace.

By all accounts, this should have been a grand and opulent treasure trove. Everywhere one looked, there were intricately carved beams and painted rafters, exuding wealth and splendor.

As a once-top-tier sect, Hongtong Palace had once drained the entire southern cultivation world to sustain itself.

The entire complex was magnificent, with even the gaps between stone slabs filled with gold-threaded materials worth hundreds of spirit stones.

But at this moment, the palace was nearly empty.

Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang walked through it without even needing to conceal their presence.

Now, as they glanced at the famed flowers and delicate trees around them, they could only sense a trace of desolation.

Yan Luoyue sighed, "Truly, those who lose the Way find few to aid them..."

Their infiltration of Hongtong Palace was, of course, to retrieve the Crying Crow Flame.

Logically, such a precious item should have been stored in some hidden chamber.

Yet when Yan Luoyue extended her spiritual sense, she happened to overhear two disciples whispering a few hundred steps away, their conversation intermittently mentioning the words "Crying Crow."

Squeezing Wu Manshuang’s hand, the two wordlessly moved closer in perfect sync.

The two Hongtong Palace disciples remained completely unaware of Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang’s presence. They spoke in hushed tones, their voices uneasy.

After listening for a while, Yan Luoyue understood—these two were the disciples tasked with tending to the Crying Crow Flame.

One of them said, "The Crying Crow Flame is even more temperamental today, worse than usual."

The other replied, "Should we… report this to the higher-ups?"

The first let out a bitter laugh. "Go ahead and try. Who’s left up there to report to now?"

"......"

The air seemed to freeze at these words, plunging the two into a long silence.

After a while, the first disciple murmured, "When I left Weiyang Hall earlier, I ran into the Master of Hongtong Palace coming to inspect the Crying Crow Flame. He ordered me to leave, so I didn’t dare linger. Do you think… the Master might..."

"Shh! Don’t say it!"

The two attendants exchanged glances, their breaths trembling with fear for a moment.

Eventually, one of them said in a tearful voice,

"If… if the Master doesn’t find out… I’d rather surrender..."

After a long pause, the other gritted out through clenched teeth,

"Me too."

As the two walked away, Yan Luoyue’s gaze turned toward the direction they had come from.

From this conversation alone, it was clear that Hongtong Palace had lost the hearts of its people.

Even its own disciples, if not for the blood wine’s control, would likely scatter like birds and beasts.

Now, recalling Hongtong Palace’s arrogance during the Thousand Refinements Grand Assembly, Yan Luoyue felt as though it were a lifetime ago.

First, they built their towering palace. Then, they feasted their guests. And now, their palace crumbled.

Mulling over the attendants’ words, Yan Luoyue remarked curiously,

"The Crying Crow is indeed temperamental… but right now, it should just be a tiny flame."

According to rumors, that split-off flame had been meticulously controlled by Hongtong Palace, its essence drained as a consumable resource.

Yet even in this state, the little flame was still described as "temperamental."

Could it be that the Crying Crow Flame had more freedom than they imagined? Could it really chase people around and set their hair on fire?

With this question in mind, Yan Luoyue entered Weiyang Hall.

Inside, an underground chamber had been built, sealed away from sunlight.

She and Wu Manshuang descended ninety-nine steps of jade and gold, and there, they saw the Crying Crow Flame—its glow as faint as the first sprouts of early spring.

The Crying Crow Flame’s light was already weak.

If the Red Flame at the Silver Light Arena had been playing dead, this split-off flame looked like it was on the verge of actually dying.

It was as frail as sun-bleached grass after years of exposure, its appearance alone enough to wrench one’s heart.

But in an instant, Yan Luoyue understood why those attendants had called it "temperamental."

Because this pale blue little flame… was absolutely furious.

Like a machine gun, it spewed a relentless stream of insults at the man standing before it.

—Wait, this Crying Crow Flame could talk?

Yan Luoyue guessed that it might have been just the mouth split off from the Crying Crow Flame’s avian form.

The pale blue flame ranted without pause:

"HA! You’re a damn joke to all us flames! You didn’t think to dismantle this crap when you locked your daddy up, but now you’re scrambling to break it open like a headless chicken. Pfft—too late! Go hang yourself! Go bash your skull in! Go fondle your own rotten eggs, you little turtle-spawn! The second you walked in today, I knew you were oozing turtle-brat vibes, reeking of cowardice from head to toe, with a stench like a backed-up latrine—"

Yan Luoyue: "......"

Wu ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‍Manshuang: "......"

Yan Luoyue gasped, "What… what happened to the Crying Crow?"

Had this split-off flame been nonstop cursing Hongtong Palace for three thousand years?!

From the look in Wu Manshuang’s eyes, he was equally stunned—and slightly numb.

Clearing his throat, Wu Manshuang stepped out of the shadows.

With the gravity of a stern teacher, he admonished the little flame:

"No. You’re just a small flame. You can’t use such language."

Yan Luoyue: "......"

The little blue flame: "!!!"

The Master of Hongtong Palace, who had been desperately dismantling the seal: "!!!"

Where the hell had this guy come from?!

Damn—a young man and woman, familiar with the Crying Crow Flame… they had to be—

Before he could finish the thought, Wu Manshuang smoothly continued:

"You can curse all you want, but how dare you insult little turtles?"

That was absolutely unacceptable!

Yan Luoyue: "......"

She coughed lightly and chimed in, "Yeah, how could you call a little turtle a ‘turtle-spawn’?"

If it weren’t the Crying Crow Flame doing the cursing, her little turtle ears wouldn’t be able to take it.

The flame, as thin as a willow leaf, trembled violently the moment it confirmed their identities.

It was like a wanderer who had drifted through the world for ages, finally returning to a long-lost home.

The Crying Crow Flame threw itself against the transparent barrier trapping it.

Though its voice was full of complaints, there was also the unmistakable, tearful relief of seeing family again.

"—Little sapling! Big rock!"

"You… you took your sweet time getting here!"