The air within the courtyard still trembled, the dust of shattered pride yet to settle when Li Wuji stepped forth.
He moved with the casual arrogance of a victor, his boots crunching over fragments of stone and bone alike. Wei Dong's crumpled body lay where it had fallen, a heap of unconscious shame beneath flickering torchlight.
Li Wuji crouched low—one knee to the dirt—and began rifling through the warden's robes with unceremonious efficiency. Rings, seals, minor talismans… each tossed aside like cast dice.
"A man of modest wealth, and yet such grand airs," he muttered. His fingers closed around a dull crystal. Useless to me… though perhaps a merchant of loose morals would find it intriguing.
Then, his eyes narrowed as his hand brushed parchment—a folded letter, still warm with residual yang energy. He unfolded it, letting his eyes run across its bold, commanding script.
The words carried the mark of bureaucracy dressed in righteousness, yet the truth behind them reeked of rot:
"Overseer Wei Dong… a prisoner shall be delivered… no council required… his kin have confessed… he may possess information vital to our clan's future. He is mad, do not listen to him…"
Li Wuji's lip curled in scorn.
So even dogs eat their own when power is at stake.
With a slow, deliberate twist of his fingers, he crumpled the letter and stuffed it into Wei Dong's barely conscious mouth.
The man stirred—eyes fluttering, a faint groan escaping.
Too late.
CRACK
Li Wuji's fist, wreathed in a flicker of crimson qi, struck the warden's chin—igniting the parchment with infernal force. Fire bloomed from within, licking its way out of Wei Dong's mouth and nose.
"GHHHHNNNNAAAAAGHHH!"
Wei Dong writhed, flames devouring his throat and bursting through his face like demonic vines. The courtyard echoed with the sound of sizzling flesh SZZZZZZZZZZZZ as the fire consumed what little remained of his dignity—and soon, his life.
One prisoner turned away, bile rising in his throat. "Such death… there's no honor in it. Only madness…"
Li Wuji watched it all—unblinking, unmoved. He walked in a slow circle around the burning corpse, like a scholar admiring a completed manuscript. His eyes fell upon a blade half-buried in the rubble—its hilt engraved with merchant sigils, its steel untouched.
With a single motion, he lifted it, unsheathing the blade. A soft shing sang through the air.
"A swordsman by training, and yet slain without drawing steel. What a pitiful tale," he mused, wiping the blade with a cloth pulled from within his sleeve.
"Wei Dong, your confidence died faster than your body. This is the price of overreaching."
From the side hall, a clamor arose. Steel clattered, boots thundered. The prison guards arrived—led by a red-faced, square-jawed man whose gaze locked on the scene with raw horror.
"What… what in the heavens—!?" he gasped.
The guards behind him froze. Some trembled. One dropped his spear, which clattered to the stone floor with a mournful CLANG.
Li Wuji turned to greet them, his newly acquired sword resting casually over his shoulder.
"The fall of the weak," he said softly, "is ordained."
"You… you murdered the Warden?! He was our strongest! How dare you!" the head guard shouted, stepping forward.
But Li Wuji's response was silence—and then, movement.
His right fist rose, trembling slightly, as dark qi coiled around it in blistering heat.
[Second Move of Devil Flame Fist: Abyssal Conflagration]
BOOOM!!
The air warped. Flames erupted like geysers, bubbling through the space between them. Blazing orbs burst from Li Wuji's palm—each floating for a breath before hurtling toward the guards.
POOF—BOOM!
The first orb struck the chief. A moment of resistance—then obliteration. He vanished, a scream echoing half-formed. The others fared no better—flesh charred, armor melted, souls reduced to smoke.
"B-brother Cheng—he's gone!! We—we can't fight this—!"
Their formation broke. Screams filled the corridor, and Li Wuji stood amidst the firestorm, his silhouette cloaked in red and orange.
HAHAHAHAHA
His laughter bounced off stone, mingling with the crackling inferno. He drank in the destruction like a man starved for vengeance.
Beyond the wall of flame, a lone figure stirred.
"Li Wuji!!" came a voice raw with fury.
It was Lin Feng—his eyes aflame with rage, though his knees trembled beneath him.
"This is your doing! These flames, these screams—you're a demon cloaked in flesh!"
Li Wuji did not reply.
Instead, his gaze turned—calculating, unconcerned.
"Brother Li! Help us!!"
The panicked cries came not from Lin Feng, but the prisoners—forgotten witnesses now trapped behind a wall of growing fire. The inferno spread like a living beast, encircling their perch with deadly heat.
But Li Wuji did not turn back. His eyes scanned the courtyard—then locked onto a small passage carved into the far wall.
An escape.
He moved.
Feet pounding stone, robes trailing sparks, he dashed toward the hidden corridor. Behind him, the cries of the prisoners faltered—then fell silent, one by one, as flame consumed their final pleas.
WHOOOOOSH
He passed the gate.
And just like that, Li Wuji vanished into the shadowed corridor beyond—leaving behind only fire, ash, and silence.