As expected, Liao Tingyan was brought to the main peak of Taixuan. Many people were already waiting there, including the Palace Mistress of the Moon, who had lost her beloved daughter. Her sharp gaze swept over Liao Tingyan, cold and unfriendly.
“So this is the woman Sima Jiao keeps by his side?”
Shi Qiandu replied simply: “It is her.”
The Palace Mistress’s eyes burned with hatred, making Liao Tingyan’s back prickle with unease.
“Sima Jiao killed my daughter, plunging me into endless pain,” she hissed, her voice raw. “I want him to suffer the same!”
Her grief spiraled into fury. With a flash, she summoned her Moon Ring Sword and drove it straight at Liao Tingyan’s face.
A metallic clang rang out. The blade bounced away, harmless. Liao Tingyan stood untouched, protected within an invisible defensive barrier. Only the silk strings binding her were severed—proof of the full force behind that blow.
Shi Qiandu hadn’t stopped her in time. Her own silks hung in tatters, her face darkening as her tone grew stern.
“Palace Mistress of the Moon, these are grave matters. You cannot act on impulse!”
Only then did the Palace Mistress realize the depth of Liao Tingyan’s protection. To break through would take far more than a few strikes. With a bitter glare, she sheathed her sword and stormed away.
Liao Tingyan glanced around. The entire peak was in turmoil. Elders sent messages, disciples rushed about like falling stars, formations glowed faintly below, and palace masters argued in urgent, hushed voices.
Shi Qiandu searched the crowd but saw no sign of Sect Leader Shi Qianlu, only Shi Zhenxu managing affairs in his place. She frowned.
“Where is my brother?”
Shi Zhenxu bowed. “After you left, there was an anomaly at the Jade Lotus Pool. The Sect Leader went there and has yet to return.”
At those words, Shi Qiandu’s composure faltered. The Jade Lotus Pool housed the Shi family’s most critical treasure—it could not be lost.
“You stay here and finish the preparations,” she ordered firmly. “Guard Liao Tingyan well—she is meant to face Sima Jiao. Nothing must happen to her. I’ll take people to find my brother.”
The timing was ominous. If Shi Qianlu had encountered Sima Jiao, she had to be there. With Liao Tingyan already in their grasp, they could tip the balance.
“Remember. Guard her carefully.”
…
By the time Shi Qiandu arrived, both Sima Jiao and Shi Qianlu were injured. Shi Qianlu, however, was clearly on the back foot—disheveled, bloodied, struggling.
He knew he could not defeat Sima Jiao. He was only stalling, waiting for Shi Qiandu’s return. If she had succeeded in capturing someone important to Sima Jiao, then perhaps they could negotiate.
But Sima Jiao was waiting too—and with far greater confidence.
He had once intended to unleash his spirit fire during the upcoming ceremony, igniting the Shi clan’s Three Saints Mountain, Taixuan Peak, and more than a dozen spiritual mountains, burning them all into ruin. But after his encounter with Sima Shi, he had decided to act early.
He had devoured Sima Shi’s newborn spirit fire, leaving behind a fragment to ignite the central heart of the Gengchen Immortal Mansion. Already, he had lit the spirit pools at the mountains’ bases. Once the flame sank into the ground, it would draw upon the blood river, the power of the pools, and the original fire itself, incinerating everything above and below.
The destruction was now far greater than he had first envisioned.
Holding Shi Qianlu here was merely to buy time—for the fire to spread.
Sima Jiao’s long blade clashed with Shi Qianlu’s zither. The strings thrummed, their music sharp enough to twist the minds of ordinary men—but Sima Jiao was unmoved. With a decisive slash, he severed the strings and carved deep scars into the jade body of the instrument.
Shi Qianlu staggered back, blood spilling from his lips—the backlash of his life-bound zither’s damage.
Just then, Shi Qiandu’s voice rang out.
“Brother! I’ve come to help you!”
Shi Qianlu’s eyes lit with relief—then froze. His gaze fell to the barrier below, horror spreading across his face.
The earth erupted.
Golden-red fire roared upward, molten lava bursting with a sound that shook the soul itself. The serene mountain landscape shattered like glass, revealing beneath it a crimson river of blood and the shadow of a black lotus—before it was swallowed in flames.
Shi Qianlu and Shi Qiandu’s faces drained of color. Their black jade lotus pool—their family’s spirit fire—was gone.
“No!” Shi Qianlu lunged to stop it, but the fire was no ordinary blaze. Fed by the Sima clan’s blood, it devoured everything, reducing hundreds of feet of land to ash in moments. Disciples caught too close were consumed instantly, their screams silenced in smoke.
“Hahahaha!” Sima Jiao’s laughter rose above the inferno. The soaring flames whipped his long hair and robes, yet he stood untouched, blade gleaming. He looked down at Shi Qianlu, mocking:
“Shi Qianlu, this is only the beginning.”
“You… what do you mean?” Shi Qianlu rasped, his body trembling with rage and despair.
Sima Jiao’s smile curved like a knife. “Your mountains, your temples, your Taixuan Peak—all will burn as this place burns. After today, your Shi clan will be nothing but memory and ash.”
Shi Qianlu’s body went cold, his mind echoing with only one thought: It’s over.
Shi Qiandu screamed, her voice shrill with rage: “That woman you keep at Taixuan Peak—she will die with us!”
Sima Jiao froze. A drop of golden-red blood slid down his blade. His eyes sharpened with killing intent.
“What did you say?”
At that instant, the mountains ruptured. Dozens of spiritual peaks exploded, seas of lava surging in every direction. The barrier collapsed under the pressure.
Through the fragments, Sima Jiao turned—and saw Taixuan Peak itself collapsing, swallowed by fire.
For the first time, his smile cracked. His face stiffened, as though his mask had been stripped away.
Shi Qianlu saw it and laughed with mad glee. “Sima Jiao! You killed her with your own hands! Retribution has come for you!”
But Sima Jiao no longer heard him. He shot into the sky, flying toward the burning ruin of Taixuan Peak.
…
Meanwhile, on the peak, Shi Zhenxu obeyed orders, standing guard over Liao Tingyan.
She slumped helplessly. “…Honestly, you’re watching me so closely I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to.”
Her movements restricted, she could only wait. Surely the Ancestor would find her within half a day? Perhaps she should consider getting telephones for emergencies.
The sky darkened. Heat rose from the ground. Even she could sense it—and the stronger cultivators felt it more keenly.
Silence fell.
Then the earth heaved. Lava burst upward, flames and spiritual power surging together into the heavens.
Liao Tingyan’s mind blanked. What the hell?! A volcanic eruption?!
…
Beneath the night sky, rivers of molten fire spread like veins across the land—terrifying and beautiful.
Sima Jiao stood amid the burning ruins, momentarily lost. His chest throbbed with an unfamiliar pain.
Taixuan Peak was gone. Nothing remained but fire and charred earth.
He bent and unearthed something from the ashes—a shattered necklace, once a powerful defense, now reduced to ruin. Its wearer was gone, perhaps buried beneath the scorched soil, beyond recognition or recovery.
He crushed the remnant in his palm.
Then, with a murmur, he summoned the souls of the fallen. Countless points of light rose into the air, the remnants of those who had died. Left alone, they would disperse into reincarnation.
But he had once told Liao Tingyan: As long as I do not wish it, you will not die.
He only needed her soul. The body could be replaced, remade. As long as her soul remained, she would live again.
So he bound the souls, thunder rumbling in protest above. He searched among them, determined.
But no matter how he searched—
He could not find hers.
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