Chapter 84: Earthfire
The artifact-crafting disciples and the Qian family disciples clashed in a chaotic melee.
In Tōngxiān City, cultivators at around the mid-stage of Qi-Refining—roughly the fifth or sixth layer—could usually begin learning offensive Dao Arts.
These offensive arts were generally divided into two categories:
one was Martial Dao Arts, practiced by Body Cultivators;
the other was Spell Dao Arts, practiced by Spiritual Cultivators.
Body Cultivators focused on tempering the flesh, using their robust physical bodies to channel spiritual power for close-range combat.
Spiritual Cultivators, on the other hand, specialized in spells, using Divine-Sense to control spiritual power and cast attacks from afar.
There were also rare cultivators who practiced both body and spirit, but such people needed two nearly impossible conditions:
First, extraordinary talent — possessing top-grade spiritual roots and exceptional physique refinement aptitude.
Second, a powerful background — a profound cultivation heritage capable of resolving the conflicts between body and spirit cultivation methods, plus… preferably, a few spirit mines at home, so one never ran out of spirit stones.
Dual cultivation of body and spirit was out of reach for nearly all cultivators. Even among great clans, generations might pass without producing a single such genius—let alone in a backwater place like Tōngxiān City.
Whether rogue cultivator or minor clan disciple, everyone had to choose a path:
either focus on tempering the body to become a Body Cultivator,
or focus on spell arts to become a Spiritual Cultivator.
During the Qi-Refining stage, Body Cultivators held a clear advantage over Spiritual Cultivators. Unless one was born physically frail—like Mo Hua—most would choose the body-cultivation path.
Thus, the battlefield before them was essentially a brawl among Body Cultivators.
A few of the Qian family disciples were Spiritual Cultivators, but before they could even cast a single spell, someone had already charged up and flattened them with a punch.
The fighting was raw and direct—fists and feet colliding, blows landing with the sound of cracking bone. Multicolored spiritual energy flared with every strike and palm, making the chaos oddly dazzling.
This was Mo Hua's first time seeing a large-scale battle between cultivators. For a while, he was so stunned he forgot to act.
After several moments, a single thought surfaced:
What should I even do?
After thinking it through, he realized he had only one viable option—run!
In a brawl of Body Cultivators, his scrawny limbs wouldn't stand a chance. Getting out intact would already be an achievement.
Not dragging everyone else down would be his greatest contribution!
Just as Mo Hua turned to slip away, he felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder.
He struggled, but couldn't break free. Then, another cold hand gripped his throat.
Turning his head, Mo Hua met Qian Xing's icy stare.
It was a look as if Mo Hua had murdered his father.
"Everyone, stop!" Qian Xing barked, his voice filled with venom.
The fighting abruptly ceased. The Qian disciples, battered and bleeding, retreated to stand behind Qian Xing, while Dazhu and the others lined up opposite, glaring at them.
Mo Hua's heart sank.
Great. The absolute worst situation just happened.
Dazhu's side had the upper hand before, but now, with Mo Hua captured, no one dared to act recklessly. The tide had turned.
Dazhu glared at Qian Xing, his face cold and expressionless.
"Let him go—or you're dead."
"Can't win, so you play dirty? Coward!"
"Yeah! Come fight fair if you've got guts!" shouted the artifact-crafting disciples angrily.
Qian Xing sneered. "All you know is brawling like beasts. No wonder you're destined to stay low-born. I've already called for the clan guards. Once they arrive, not one of you will escape."
"What do you want?" Dazhu demanded.
"What do I want?" Qian Xing's smile was twisted. He tightened his grip on Mo Hua's neck. "Relax, I won't kill him yet. Getting blood on my hands would be disgusting. The Dao Court Division wouldn't scare me, but paperwork is tedious. I'll just drag him up the mountain, hang him from a tree, and let a few demonic beasts eat him alive. The Dao Court won't bother me—after all, he'll have been eaten by beasts."
Dazhu's eyes burned red. "You bastard—don't you dare!"
"You dare call me a bastard?" Qian Xing barked out a laugh. "Fine then! Here's my offer: kneel before me, slap yourselves, and end your own lives. Do that, and I'll spare him. How about it? You like playing heroes, right? Here's your chance!"
He pressed harder on Mo Hua's throat. "Kneel! Or I'll kill him right now!"
Dazhu and the others froze—seething with rage and humiliation.
Mo Hua's eyes flashed coldly. His voice, hoarse but sharp, cut through the air:
"Qian Xing… don't push your luck."
"Push my luck?" Qian Xing laughed savagely. "I'm giving you face, boy! I spoke politely, you refused, made this whole mess, and now I'm the one pushing my luck? I lost face today. I'll earn it back with your lives. Seems fair, doesn't it?"
Mo Hua's young voice was chilling: "Then you've brought death upon yourself."
Qian Xing actually laughed. "You? A fourth-layer Qi-Refining brat—no martial training, no spells—how exactly are you going to kill me? You think I'm courting death? Fine. Show me, how will you—"
Before he could finish, a splash of scarlet ink flew at his face.
Caught off guard, Qian Xing raised his right hand to block, but not fast enough, several drops splattered across his eyes. The liquid seeped into them, burning like acid.
It was fire-attribute spiritual ink, the kind used to draw array formations!
Qian Xing roared in pain, clenching his left hand to strangle Mo Hua, but the agony caused his grip to falter for an instant. That was all Mo Hua needed to twist free.
Qian Xing lunged again, but Mo Hua, knowing he couldn't outrun him, turned and leapt up, kicking Qian Xing squarely in the chest.
Except… Qian Xing didn't budge. He didn't even flinch.
Instead, Mo Hua was sent flying backward by the rebound.
He tumbled across the ground, rolling a few times before lying flat and covering his head with both hands.
Qian Xing laughed derisively. "Now you see who the real trash is?"
He stepped forward, intending to seize Mo Hua before Dazhu could intervene...
But the moment his foot hit the ground, a burning sensation flared in his chest.
He looked down. Somehow, a slip of paper had been stuffed into his robes.
Seven runes were drawn on it in glowing crimson ink—ink that was now burning brighter and brighter, almost shining red-hot.
An array?
Before he could even process the thought—
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion tore through the street.
A surge of blazing spiritual energy engulfed Qian Xing, heat and pain ripping through his body. His robe disintegrated into ash, the protective mirror at his chest shattered, and the firestorm scorched his face beyond recognition.
The shockwave hurled him backward, smashing through several stalls before he finally hit the ground.
Silence fell.
Several Qian disciples nearby, caught in the blast, lay groaning on the ground.
Everyone else stared in stunned disbelief—at Mo Hua, lying face-down and slightly scorched but very much alive... and at Qian Xing—charred, broken, and unrecognizable.
No one spoke.
Then, as the spiritual shockwave faded, cultivators from nearby streets began rushing toward the commotion.
(End of Chapter)