Chapter Thirty: The Fire Sorcerer’s Guard

Qingxu pondered for a while, but still could not make sense of it. Reasonably speaking, with hundreds of thousands of Giant Spirits, such a vast number, it should not be difficult for some great powers to subdue hundreds or even thousands as Yellow Turban Warriors, yet even the Three Pure Ones had each only taken four, and the other sages seemed not much different. This could not help but make Qingxu wonder.

“The Giant Spirit tribe is far from simple—there must be some hidden secret here.”

But he put these thoughts aside for now; even a juvenile Giant Spirit possessed cultivation at the peak of the Celestial Immortal realm, far beyond what he could contend with at this moment, let alone in a place like the Red Rock Hills, the land of the Giant Spirits.

Facing the Red Rock Hills before him, Qingxu was vexed. He had to reach the shore of the East Sea, and this range lay in his path, but it was strictly forbidden territory for the Giant Spirits.

“Forget it, better to avoid trouble if possible—I'll take a detour.” Though it would cost him a few extra days, safety came first.

Having made up his mind, Qingxu was about to skirt around when suddenly a searing murderous intent surged from the depths of the Red Rock Hills. This killing intent made his heart quiver, and within it was a strange feeling, as if it were utterly different from the path of cultivation, diametrically opposed. This piqued Qingxu’s curiosity, for since the Dao Ancestor Hongjun had preached the Way, all beings of the Great Desolation, whether immortal, demon, fiend, ghost, or Buddha, all followed the Mysterious Way.

“Someone in the Great Desolation who does not cultivate the Dao? Could it be... the Wu tribe?” Those who cultivated the Dao were many, those who did not were few. Qingxu, with the memories of his former life as Wang Xuan, knew that only the Wu tribe of the Great Desolation did not cultivate the Dao. Their true spirits fused with their bodies, making them immune to any soul attacks; their bodies were incomparably powerful, rivaling divine weapons, and the Great Wus could even contend with innate spiritual treasures.

Sensing such blazing murderous will, Qingxu could not resist his curiosity. At once, he used his art of concealment and stealth, slipping quietly into the Red Rock Hills, heading towards the depths.

He advanced with utmost caution, for among the Giant Spirits, many were of the Perfected Golden Immortal rank; if discovered, it would be certain death.

“The Giant Spirits, compared to the Wu tribe, still cultivate the mysterious way of the primordial spirit. The earlier murderous intent could not have come from a Giant Spirit.” He had seen Yellow Turban Warriors on Mount Kunlun, and so Qingxu understood some details about the Giant Spirits.

As he delved deeper, the heat grew ever more intense—the killing intent so fierce it could drive away any ghost cultivator. Under such heat, Qingxu felt as insignificant as an ant; fortunately, the murderous intent was not directed at him, or else his true spirit would have been annihilated.

“Dafeng, do you truly intend to defy Lord Zhurong’s command?” Before seeing anyone, a thunderous shout rang in Qingxu’s ears, making his eardrums ache and his blood churn.

“Ancestor Wu Zhurong? No wonder the heat is so unbearable. Zhurong is the Fire Ancestor Wu, whose Ninefold Spiritual Flame can incinerate anything—not inferior even to True Solar Fire, and perhaps a touch stronger. The Great Wus and Minor Wus of his tribe are born with some of this flame’s power. It seems the one seeking trouble with the Giant Spirits this time is a Wu from Zhurong’s tribe, and judging by the tone, he acts on Zhurong’s orders—no small matter indeed.”

Zhurong was one of the Twelve Ancestor Wus, of the highest status. How could the Giant Spirit tribe warrant his attention? To destroy them, a few Great Wus would suffice.

“Zhurong covets the lifeblood of my Giant Spirit tribe. Though our strength is meager, we do not fear a battle to the death!” A deep and powerful voice echoed through heaven and earth, clear to the ear—this was undoubtedly Dafeng of the Giant Spirits.

“The Giant Spirits are courageous indeed, worthy of admiration. But what is this lifeblood? To draw Zhurong’s greedy eye, it must be something extraordinary.” Qingxu felt the whole matter grow ever more mysterious.

As Dafeng’s words fell, the Wu who had spoken before flew into a rage, his shout shaking the heavens in all its domineering might: “You do not know what’s good for you! Lord Zhurong has taken a fancy to your tribe’s possession; it should be offered up as tribute. This would be your tribe’s greatest honor. If you dare defy his will, don’t blame me for being merciless! Today, the entire Red Rock Hills will be turned to scorched earth, not a blade of grass left alive!”

“What?” Upon hearing this, even Qingxu was shocked. The Red Rock Hills stretched for tens of millions of miles—turning it all to ash and barren soil, what arrogance!

“To kill and exterminate a tribe at the slightest disagreement, and devastate such a vast land besides—the Wu tribe is truly overbearing. No wonder a great calamity will eventually befall them.” Qingxu began to understand. The beings of the Great Desolation cultivated the Dao and sought understanding; even evil cultivators, for all their recklessness, had their limits. Under Heaven’s will, those who committed too much evil would suffer retribution. But the Wu tribe was different—protected by the legacy of Pangu, and powerful besides, they observed no taboos. What’s more, they did not cultivate the Mysterious Way nor seek understanding, making them far more dangerous than words could describe.

Judging by the Wu’s tone, this sort of thing was likely all too common for them.

Oppressing the weak by strength.

Massacring and exterminating tribes.

And burning tens of millions of miles to the ground!

“Though they have Pangu’s legacy, if this continues, even the greatest merit will be exhausted.”

The Wu tribe and the Three Pure Ones split half of Pangu’s merit for opening the heavens, but the Three Pure Ones were only three, while the Wu numbered in the tens or hundreds of millions. With so many sins committed, it was no wonder they would meet such a miserable end.

Flames roared.

Boom!

A firelight soared to the heavens, dyeing the sky red and gold for ten thousand miles.

“The Ninefold Spiritual Flame?”

Though it was not Zhurong himself wielding it and the power was less than one percent, it was still overwhelming. Merely gazing at the firelight made Qingxu’s primordial spirit feel as if it were burning. It was easy to imagine that, if touched, he would be utterly destroyed in an instant, body and soul reduced to ash, erased from the Great Desolation entirely.

Suppressing the burning pain in his spirit, Qingxu pressed on a little farther. Now he had a clear view of the Giant Spirits and Wus in the distance. He saw countless Giant Spirits gathered together, all over ten feet tall, with the adults approaching thirty, but what drew Qingxu’s attention most was the color of their skin.

Silver-white! Bronze!

“Yellow Turban Warriors are golden, but among these Giant Spirits, not a single one is. Is there a hierarchy among the Giant Spirits?” he wondered to himself.

Golden Giant Spirits? Silver Giant Spirits? Bronze Giant Spirits?

“Could it be like those knights in that old story from my previous life?” Qingxu’s thoughts ran wild.

As he mused, he caught sight of the Wu tribe members and was startled again. There were only a few thousand, less than ten thousand in all, each clad in pitch-black iron armor adorned with blood-red fire patterns, wielding crimson axes, their bodies between ten and thirty feet tall, their faces hidden behind fierce iron masks.

What truly astonished Qingxu, however, were the images of Zhurong engraved front and back on their iron armor: beast-headed, man-bodied, draped in red scales, ears pierced with fire serpents, treading fire dragons beneath their feet!

“These are... the Fire Wu Guard?”

Qingxu stared in amazement, for the Fire Wu Guard was renowned in the current Great Desolation, their reputation awe-inspiring.

The Fire Wu Guard were Zhurong’s elite among elites—numbering one hundred thousand, it was said that each possessed cultivation not inferior to the peak of Perfected Golden Immortal, and in the art of battle, could match early-stage Grand Golden Immortals. Their combined formations were even more formidable, capable of shaking even quasi-saints. They were Zhurong’s most trusted force.

A few thousand Fire Wu Guards—this was no trivial matter!

“Still, the Giant Spirits have numbers on their side, hundreds of thousands strong. They may not be completely without hope, provided the Ninefold Spiritual Flame is not brought to bear. Otherwise, defeat is inevitable.” So Qingxu calculated in his heart.