Chapter Fifty-Five: The Venomous Scholar

To prevent the spread of such a powerful flame, its secrets are not even entrusted to the City God of Danling. The supply comes only from above; it cannot be created locally. Furthermore, its use is strictly regulated, with meticulous records kept for every instance.

The destructive force of the Shadow-Scorching Phosphorus Fire is formidable, but the Ninefold Nether Soul Flame surpasses it still. It possesses an extraordinary resistance to fire; whether struck by Divine Thunder or assaulted by the Shadow-Scorching Phosphorus Fire, it leaves the war chariot unscathed.

Thus, the two chariots burst forth, smoke and flames billowing, impervious to every assault. They were now barely a dozen paces from Wang Zhenling, causing the ghost soldiers behind him to shrink back in fear.

"The power of the authorities is truly immense—and this is merely the martial strength wielded by a humble county like Danling..." Wang Zhenling could not help but shake his head in dismay, watching the two war chariots charge through the flames like tanks. Archers atop the chariots had already drawn their bows, aiming at him.

Their arrows, too, burned with the Ninefold Nether Soul Flame, and now, Wang Zhenling found himself locked in their sights. Despite the distance, an unsettling chill crept over him, as though he were prey under the gaze of a natural predator.

"What kind of flame is this? Why does it seem so terrifying..." Wang Zhenling murmured inwardly. Yet, nowhere in the External Treatise on Thunder Fire was there mention of this so-called Ninefold Nether Soul Flame. If it were otherwise, he might have suspected the founder of that treatise of plagiarizing the Sixteen Fires of the Underworld from this world.

In truth, the thunder fires chronicled in the External Treatise were all developed based on the Golden Elixir of Subduing Fire and the experience of refining external elixirs. But the Ninefold Nether Soul Flame was entirely different—a fire born of nether souls, not comparable at all.

The thunder fires described in the treatise remained mundane flames unless refined through magical arts. Yet this Ninefold Nether Soul Flame belonged to the realm of divine fire.

Thus, Wang Zhenling had no real understanding of such flames. He only sensed their peril—so dangerous that even his own soul seemed to tremble.

"This flame harms the very soul..." In that instant, Wang Zhenling grasped the truth. Yet, even having guessed as much, he could think of no means to defend himself. For even without touching him, the flame’s presence made his soul shudder, filling him with a terror beyond measure.

At this moment, all Wang Zhenling could do was remain calm, preparing to bolster his soul with the official seal of the county constable to protect himself.

Suddenly, a loud rooster's crow rang out. It was Mr. Feng; at this critical juncture, he bit his finger and drew across the Solar Divine Mirror. The true power of the mirror was unleashed, and upon its surface appeared a rooster crowned with a five-colored crest, raising its head and crowing.

At its crow, the sun seemed to rise. Though Wang Zhenling well knew it was night, the brilliance that burst forth from the treasure made one doubt whether it was not daylight.

These war chariots were genuine instruments of war, nearly at the level of magical treasures. Countless powerful cultivators had been subdued beneath their wheels. Even Zhen Yunzi fell under their crushing advance. They were also crucial weapons for the imperial court in suppressing spirits and ghosts, able to hold their own even in broad daylight.

Yet now, beneath the treasure's radiance, it was as if waves of blazing fire continually battered them, engulfing both chariots. The Ninefold Nether Soul Flame shattered, and the warriors—those driving the chariots and wielding spears and bows—were all obliterated in the explosion.

Meanwhile, the underworld official’s eyes nearly popped from his sockets. "Impossible! A Pure Yang treasure…"

He was still stunned, when a burst of flame struck him directly. The City God’s command talisman flashed with divine light, attempting to shield its bearer. But the power unleashed by the Solar Divine Mirror had already reduced the chariots to dust—how could a mere talisman withstand it?

The talisman flickered briefly, but the flame consumed it, snuffing out its light. Even the script and the seal upon its surface dulled and faded.

In the blink of an eye, the underworld official was surrounded by fire, shrieking as his soul was utterly destroyed.

When the flames receded, Mr. Feng carefully stowed away the Solar Treasure Mirror, his face pale, nearly unable to stand. Clearly, even for him, wielding the Solar Treasure Mirror was no easy feat.

The other condemned ghosts, seeing the restraints fall, scattered at once, vanishing into the night.

"What a formidable magical treasure... Sir, was it wise to kill the underworld official so directly?" Wang Zhenling deliberately furrowed his brow and asked.

"What of it? Though that official serves the underworld, he was out committing misdeeds in the dead of night... Do you think the City God would dare accuse me?" The reply was steeped in bureaucratic wisdom.

Tonight’s events, for all their spectacle, could shock the world if revealed. Yet Wang Zhenling was certain no one would willingly speak of what happened tonight.

Would the City God volunteer that he had dispatched an underworld official to seize a spiritual vein, to occupy a private shrine? From any angle, such matters could not be brought to light. The City God could do nothing but grit his teeth and swallow his rage.

Wang Zhenling pressed further, "Those condemned ghosts have escaped and may harm innocents. Should we not recapture them?"

Mr. Feng smiled, regarding the county constable as a model of honesty. "Those condemned ghosts were released by the City God. The greater the havoc they wreak, the more trouble for him. Why should we bear the blame on his behalf?"

Wang Zhenling’s heart stirred; he caught the implication in Mr. Feng’s words and felt a chill run down his spine. This Mr. Feng was indeed a cunning strategist.

Earlier, Wang Zhenling had thought Mr. Feng’s strength insufficient, hence his failure to destroy all the condemned ghosts. Now he saw it was intentional—Mr. Feng had let them escape on purpose.

He wanted the ghosts to cause a commotion, to confirm the City God’s secret release of condemned souls. The consequences—the harm to innocents, the chaos that would ensue—were matters Mr. Feng cared nothing for.