Chapter 88: The Crimson Inferno
BOOOOOM!
The crimson explosion illuminated the entire mountain.
Fire swallowed the demonic camp, tearing through tents and overturning black wagons. The shockwave hurled several cultivators from their feet, while splintered wood and fragments of stone scattered across the clearing.
Screams rose above the roar of the flames.
Han Feng did not stop to admire the destruction.
The instant he descended upon the camp, his figure disappeared into the smoke.
His first target was the nearest guard.
The man barely managed to turn before a narrow blade of crimson fire pierced his throat.
He fell without a sound.
Another cultivator raised his hand, attempting to activate a defensive Gu. Han Feng crossed the distance before the technique could stabilize, struck the man's wrist, and drove a palm into his chest.
The man's body flew backward into a burning wagon.
Han Feng continued forward.
He had no intention of fighting the entire camp in a prolonged battle. His objective was to destroy the enemy's coordination, eliminate those capable of restricting his movements, and create an opportunity to escape.
The initial explosion had bought him a few breaths.
He intended to make those breaths count.
"ENEMY!"
The one-eyed leader's roar cut through the chaos.
A violent aura erupted from his body.
The ground cracked beneath his boots as black primordial essence surged around him, forming a dense cloud that spread across the camp. Wherever the smoke touched the flames, their brightness diminished.
Several demonic cultivators immediately reorganized.
Two formed a defensive line in front of their leader. Three others moved toward the wagons, while the remaining guards began surrounding the clearing.
They were not ordinary bandits.
Their movements were practiced, and their reactions were far too coordinated for a group of criminals assembled by chance.
These people had survived real battles.
They knew how to kill.
Han Feng landed atop a half-destroyed cart.
His black cloak fluttered in the hot wind. Crimson fire flickered around his right hand, illuminating his face from below.
His eyes remained cold.
The leader stared at him.
Then recognition settled across his scarred face.
"So it was you."
Han Feng said nothing.
The man spat onto the ground.
"Brat, you have courage."
His remaining eye narrowed.
"But courage without strength is just another way to die."
BOOM!
The leader charged.
His speed was far greater than that of the subordinates Han Feng had already killed. Black smoke wrapped around his fist, compressing until it resembled a mass of twisting ink.
The attack came directly toward Han Feng's chest.
Han Feng shifted sideways.
The fist passed within inches of his body and struck the stone behind him.
CRACK!
The rock split apart.
Black smoke spread over its surface, eating into the stone until the edges crumbled into dark powder.
Han Feng's expression tightened.
Corrosive energy.
The technique was not merely powerful because of the man's cultivation. The Gu behind it possessed an unusual ability to corrupt and weaken whatever it touched.
If Han Feng allowed that smoke to enter his meridians, the consequences could be severe.
The leader did not give him time to consider it.
Another punch followed.
Then a palm strike.
Then a sweeping kick that forced Han Feng to leap over a patch of burning ground.
The attacks came relentlessly, each one intended to drive him into a position where the next would be unavoidable.
Han Feng retreated.
Not blindly.
He watched the man's shoulders, the movement of his hips, and the brief changes in the black smoke before each strike.
The leader's technique was aggressive, but it had a pattern.
Whenever he gathered the corrosive energy into his right arm, the protection around his left side weakened slightly.
The difference lasted less than a breath.
Still, it was there.
Han Feng needed to survive long enough to exploit it.
He activated Shadow Displacement Gu.
His body blurred and appeared several steps away just as the leader's fist struck the ground.
The explosion threw dust and burning fragments into the air.
Han Feng landed near a fallen wagon.
The leader followed immediately.
"You keep running."
He smiled.
"Are you hoping the fire will save you?"
Black smoke burst from his body.
The nearby flames bent away from him, their edges collapsing beneath the pressure of his corrosive aura.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
So ordinary fire won't help me.
He had already suspected as much.
The red flame that had appeared during his earlier escape was not a normal fire technique. Its behavior remained inconsistent, and the strange golden particles that occasionally appeared within it were even less predictable.
He could produce the crimson energy under certain conditions.
He could direct it in simple attacks.
But he did not understand its underlying nature.
Trying to force it into a complicated technique while fighting a stronger opponent would be reckless.
The leader lunged again.
Han Feng dodged, allowing the strike to pass over his shoulder.
The black smoke brushed his sleeve.
The fabric disintegrated.
A thin line of pain appeared along his arm where the edge of the corrosive energy had grazed his skin.
Han Feng retreated another step.
The leader laughed.
"How long can you keep this up?"
Han Feng did not answer.
He was watching the fire.
The camp had become a maze of burning wagons, broken weapons, scattered supplies, and collapsing tents. Crimson flames spread unevenly across the ground, driven by the wind and fed by the materials scattered throughout the clearing.
At first, they seemed chaotic.
But Han Feng noticed something.
Whenever the flames approached the leader's black smoke, the crimson light weakened. When they moved beyond its influence, the fire recovered.
The smoke was not simply extinguishing the flames.
It was interfering with the energy sustaining them.
That distinction mattered.
Han Feng's gaze sharpened.
If the smoke can interfere with the fire, then perhaps the reverse is also possible.
He had no proof.
But he did not need certainty.
He needed an opening.
The Celestial Diagram vibrated.
Han Feng felt the familiar sensation deep within his consciousness.
The golden lines along its outer edge illuminated one after another, faintly at first, then with increasing clarity.
His breath caught.
The Diagram had reacted to unusual energy before. It had responded to ancient formations, foreign disturbances, and the sealed materials he carried.
But this reaction felt different.
The golden lines did not merely brighten.
For a brief instant, they seemed to align with the crimson energy circulating through his body.
Han Feng felt a subtle pressure in his right palm.
He opened his hand.
A small flame appeared.
Crimson.
Unsteady.
Then a few golden particles flickered inside it.
Han Feng stared.
The leader noticed the change immediately.
His smile disappeared.
"What is that?"
Han Feng had no answer.
The golden particles moved through the flame like fragments of something broken. They did not form a complete symbol, nor did they settle into a stable pattern.
Yet the moment they appeared, the crimson flame changed.
Its outer edge compressed.
The fire grew smaller, but the energy within it became noticeably denser.
Han Feng could feel the difference.
He could not explain it.
The leader seemed to understand only that the technique was dangerous.
His black smoke surged forward.
Han Feng instinctively moved his hand.
The crimson flame compressed further.
For an instant, the golden particles aligned along its center.
Then the flame shot forward.
BOOM!
A narrow crimson-gold spear crossed the clearing.
The leader raised his corrosive barrier.
The spear struck it.
A violent shockwave erupted.
Black smoke twisted around the golden particles, attempting to erode the attack. For a moment, the two energies collided without either gaining the advantage.
Then the spear pierced through.
Not effortlessly.
Not because the golden energy possessed absolute superiority.
The barrier simply failed to withstand the concentrated force at its weakest point.
PUCHII!
The spear tore through the leader's shoulder.
He staggered backward.
A strangled cry escaped his throat as the crimson energy spread across the wound. The golden particles flickered once before vanishing, leaving behind a patch of charred flesh and disrupted primordial essence.
The leader clutched his shoulder.
His expression was no longer amused.
"What... was that?"
Han Feng looked at his own hand.
He was equally uncertain.
The attack had consumed far more energy than expected. A sharp ache spread through his meridians, and the crimson flame in his palm nearly extinguished.
He had not deliberately created the golden particles.
He had not commanded them.
Something had happened when the Celestial Diagram resonated with the flame, and he had managed to direct the resulting attack only because the leader had left him no alternative.
It was an opportunity.
Not mastery.
Han Feng closed his hand.
I cannot rely on that happening again.
The leader raised his head.
Fear had appeared in his remaining eye, but anger quickly buried it.
"You little monster!"
He slammed his uninjured hand against his chest.
Several Gu responded at once.
The black smoke surrounding him thickened, spreading across the clearing in twisting waves. Shapes emerged from within it.
A wolf.
A boar.
Then several smaller creatures with elongated limbs and gaping mouths.
They were not living beasts.
They were constructs formed from corrosive energy, sustained by the Gu techniques the leader had activated.
Five became ten.
Ten became twenty.
The creatures surged toward Han Feng.
He moved immediately.
Shadow Displacement Gu carried him past the first wave, but the sudden movement drained more primordial essence than he could comfortably spare.
A smoke beast lunged at his back.
Han Feng twisted and struck it with a burst of crimson fire.
The creature broke apart.
Another caught his left arm.
Pain flashed through his body as corrosive energy began eating into his protective Qi.
He forced the creature away and stumbled behind a burning cart.
His breathing grew heavier.
The leader had been wounded, but he remained a Rank 4 cultivator with several active Gu.
Han Feng was still at Qi Cultivation Rank 4 and Gu Master Rank 2.
The difference in experience, reserves, and available techniques remained substantial.
One successful attack would not erase it.
The smoke beasts circled the cart.
Han Feng examined the flames moving across the ground.
He could not simply release a larger attack. His reserves were already falling, and the golden resonance had shown no sign of returning.
But the fire did not need to become stronger.
It needed to become useful.
He noticed that the smoke beasts moved according to the flow of the corrosive energy. Each time the leader redirected them, the black cloud shifted with them.
Their formation was connected.
The creatures were not independent Gu.
They were extensions of the same technique.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
Then I don't need to destroy every beast.
He needed to disrupt the flow sustaining them.
He lowered his hand and allowed a small amount of crimson energy to gather around his fingers.
The flames nearby responded to the movement of air and heat, but they did not obey him completely. Some shifted toward his hand; others continued burning where they had fallen.
He had no control over the entire inferno.
Only over the small amount of crimson energy he could actively direct.
That was enough.
Han Feng waited until the leader sent the smoke beasts forward again.
Then he released three narrow bursts of flame.
One struck the ground beneath the first creature.
Another hit a burning wagon.
The third passed directly toward the leader's wounded shoulder.
The attacks were not intended to kill.
They were meant to force the man to redirect his energy.
The leader cursed and raised his barrier.
The crimson flame struck the dark protection around his body.
At the same moment, Han Feng used Shadow Displacement Gu to move away from the smoke beasts.
The leader shifted his control toward the incoming attack.
For half a breath, the black creatures faltered.
Their outlines blurred.
The corrosive cloud thinned.
Han Feng struck the nearest beast with a concentrated burst of Qi.
It collapsed.
He destroyed a second one before the leader restored control.
The others continued advancing, but their movements had become less coordinated.
Han Feng had found the weakness.
The technique required the leader to maintain a stable flow of primordial essence. The more creatures he controlled, the more attention and energy he had to divide among them.
It was powerful.
But not free.
Han Feng's lips tightened.
Now I only need to make him spend more than he can sustain.
The leader understood that something had changed.
His creatures were still attacking, yet Han Feng was no longer retreating blindly.
The young cultivator moved between the burning wagons, using every obstacle to break the creatures' approach. He struck when the black smoke thinned and withdrew before the leader could concentrate his attacks.
It was an irritating style of combat.
The leader had expected a desperate youth relying on a strange flame.
Instead, he faced someone who observed every mistake and refused to waste energy without a reason.
"Stop hiding behind those wrecks!"
He thrust his wounded arm forward.
The smoke beasts surged toward the wagons, tearing through the remaining wood and forcing Han Feng into the open.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
The leader was adapting.
The smoke spread across the clearing, closing off the easiest escape routes.
Han Feng could no longer remain in the camp indefinitely.
He needed to finish the confrontation or leave before his reserves failed.
The Celestial Diagram remained quiet.
The golden lines had dimmed again.
No guidance came.
No second spear appeared.
Han Feng felt a brief, bitter amusement.
So that was all I get.
He had hoped the strange resonance might offer another opening.
It had not.
He would have to rely on what he actually understood.
He glanced toward the wagons.
Several had overturned, but one remained intact near the outer edge of the camp. Beyond it lay the slope leading toward the stream.
The prisoners.
He had come here because the caravan had tried to kill him, but he had not forgotten why he had followed them in the first place.
If he could create an opening toward the stream, the remaining captives might have a chance to escape.
But if he remained to free them all, the leader would recover control of the battlefield.
Han Feng made his decision.
He could not save everyone by fighting everyone.
He needed to give the prisoners a chance to save themselves.
He moved toward the intact wagon.
The leader immediately pursued.
"Where do you think you're going?"
A wave of black smoke struck Han Feng's left side.
BOOOOM!
The attack threw him against a broken cart.
His ribs screamed with pain.
For a moment, his vision blurred.
Blood filled his mouth.
Han Feng rolled away before the next strike landed, but the movement aggravated the injury. He felt something shift beneath his ribs.
He might have cracked a bone.
The leader approached slowly, his expression twisted with satisfaction.
"Finished?"
Han Feng pushed himself upright.
His left arm trembled.
His primordial essence had fallen to a dangerous level, and the poison in his shoulder was beginning to spread again.
He could not afford another direct hit.
The leader raised his hand.
Black smoke gathered around his fingers.
"Then die."
Han Feng looked at him.
And smiled faintly.
Not because he had another hidden technique.
Not because victory was assured.
He smiled because the leader had finally stopped paying attention to the ground.
The first explosion had shattered several stone supports beneath the camp. The fighting had broken more. Beneath the burning debris, a section of the slope had begun to collapse toward the stream.
Han Feng had noticed the cracks earlier.
He had been waiting for the right moment.
Now the leader stood directly above them.
Han Feng released a final, concentrated burst of crimson energy—not toward the man, but toward the already weakened stone beside his feet.
The rock fractured.
The ground shifted.
The leader's balance faltered.
Han Feng moved.
He crossed the short distance and struck the man's wounded shoulder with everything he had left.
The leader roared.
His black barrier flickered.
For a fraction of a second, the corrosive smoke lost its cohesion.
Han Feng followed with a second strike to the man's chest.
The leader stumbled backward.
The slope gave way.
CRAAACK!
Stone and burning debris collapsed beneath them.
The leader fell toward the stream, dragging a mass of black smoke with him. He struck the rocks below and disappeared beneath a cloud of dust and steam.
Han Feng was thrown in the opposite direction.
He landed hard beside the wagon.
Pain tore through his body.
For several seconds, he could do nothing but breathe.
The camp continued burning around him.
He forced himself to his knees.
The leader had fallen.
That did not mean he was dead.
Han Feng had no intention of climbing down the slope to find out.
He had spent too much energy, suffered too many injuries, and revealed too much of the crimson flame already.
If the leader survived, another confrontation would be disastrous.
If he had died, the remaining cultivators would soon discover it.
Either way, Han Feng needed to leave.
But first, the prisoners.
The intact wagon was still standing.
Han Feng approached it carefully, keeping his spiritual sense extended in case any surviving guards tried to ambush him.
The door was secured with an iron lock and two formation talismans.
He examined them.
The talismans were designed to prevent the prisoners from forcing the door open. Their defensive structure had been weakened by the heat, but breaking them carelessly might trigger a mechanism inside the wagon.
Han Feng drew a thin metal pick from his storage pouch.
His hands were unsteady.
He worked slowly, feeling each movement through the lock.
Finally—
Click.
The mechanism opened.
Han Feng pulled the door aside.
Inside were men, women, and children.
Some were so thin that their clothing hung loosely from their bodies. Others had fresh wounds or bruises. Several recoiled from the light, while a young boy clutched an older woman's sleeve and stared at Han Feng with wide, terrified eyes.
Nobody moved.
They had probably heard the fighting.
They had probably seen the flames.
To them, the person standing outside the wagon might have been another captor.
Han Feng kept his voice low.
"The door is open. If you can walk, get out."
An old man stared at him.
"Are... are you going to sell us?"
Han Feng's expression remained flat.
"If I wanted to sell you, I wouldn't be opening the door."
The old man lowered his eyes.
No one thanked him.
They were too frightened to believe that they were free.
Han Feng did not blame them.
"Listen carefully," he continued. "Move toward the stream, then follow it east. Do not use the main road. If you encounter cultivators, hide first and speak later."
A young woman looked toward the burning camp.
"What about the others?"
Han Feng glanced at the remaining wagons.
Several were burning. Others had been damaged badly enough that he could not tell whether their doors could still be opened safely.
He had neither the time nor the strength to inspect every vehicle.
"I can't promise that everyone is alive."
The woman's face tightened.
Han Feng continued before she could ask him to do something impossible.
"But you are alive. If you remain here, that may change."
The words were harsh.
They were also true.
The old man slowly climbed down from the wagon. The others followed, helping those who could barely stand.
Han Feng moved aside to let them pass.
A child stumbled.
He caught the boy by the shoulder before he fell, then released him once the older woman had taken hold of his hand.
The boy looked up.
For a moment, he seemed about to speak.
Then he followed the others into the darkness.
Han Feng watched until the last of them disappeared between the rocks.
He did not ask for their names.
They did not ask for his.
That was how it should be.
In the Gu World, gratitude could become an obligation, and obligations could become chains. Han Feng had helped them because the caravan had made them its prey—and because opening one wagon had been within his ability.
He would not turn that decision into a promise to protect them forever.
He closed the broken wagon door and turned away.
The camp had become a field of burning wreckage.
Several demonic cultivators lay motionless among the debris. Others had fled into the surrounding darkness, abandoning their equipment and wounded companions.
The red flames continued to burn, but their intensity was fading.
Han Feng stood near the edge of the clearing.
His body was badly injured.
His primordial essence had been almost completely depleted, and the crimson flame had withdrawn to a faint, unstable trace. The golden particles had not appeared again.
He looked at his right hand.
A thin line of golden light briefly flickered beneath the skin.
Then vanished.
Han Feng's expression grew serious.
The Celestial Diagram had changed.
He could feel it.
The golden lines along its outer edge were more stable than before, no longer fading as quickly after each pulse. Yet he could not tell whether the battle had strengthened the Diagram, altered its resonance, or merely exposed a property that had always existed.
He had seen the golden particles appear inside the crimson flame.
He had watched them help concentrate the attack.
But he had not controlled their formation.
He had not absorbed a new power.
And he had not gained a cultivation breakthrough.
The distinction mattered.
If he mistook an unpredictable reaction for a reliable ability, the next enemy might kill him before he discovered his mistake.
Han Feng took a slow breath.
"The Diagram reacted to the flame..."
He looked at the ruined camp.
"...but why?"
No answer came.
He would need a safer place to investigate.
First, however, he needed to treat his injuries.
He took a medicinal pill from his storage pouch and swallowed it. The bitter taste spread across his tongue as the medicine began suppressing the poison.
It would not fully heal him.
But it might keep him alive long enough to find shelter.
Han Feng turned toward the stream.
Then the golden seal beneath his chest pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
The pain was immediate.
He staggered and pressed a hand against his sternum.
For a brief instant, the sounds of the burning camp disappeared.
The world seemed to draw inward.
The Celestial Diagram froze inside his consciousness.
Its golden lines shone with an intensity he had never witnessed before.
Then a voice reached him.
Distant.
Ancient.
Neither male nor female.
It seemed to come from far beyond the boundaries of the world, carried across a distance that ordinary spiritual sense could never measure.
"The convergence has begun..."
Han Feng's eyes widened.
The voice vanished.
The sounds of the camp returned.
The seal fell silent.
Han Feng remained motionless for several breaths.
He had heard the word clearly.
Convergence.
He remembered Jun Mo's warning about someone interfering with the order of the worlds. He remembered the foreign fissures, the alien creature, and the distant silhouette watching from beyond the sky.
He remembered Fang Yuan's warning about the golden seal.
Anything that kept him alive might also dictate the conditions of his survival.
Han Feng slowly lowered his hand.
"Was that you?"
He did not know whether he was speaking to the seal, the Celestial Diagram, or whatever had spoken through the disturbance.
Nothing answered.
He forced himself to move.
Whatever the word meant, standing beside a burning camp while injured was not the place to investigate it.
He left the clearing without looking back.
Far away, in a forbidden region of the Central Region, an old man opened his eyes.
He sat within a dark hall whose walls were covered in ancient golden inscriptions. Rows of lamps burned beneath the ceiling, each containing a pale flame that had remained unchanged for centuries.
In front of him rested a spiritual compass.
Its surface was divided into seven concentric circles. Tiny symbols moved across the inner rings, tracking fluctuations too subtle for ordinary cultivators to perceive.
Now, a crack ran through its center.
The old man stared at it.
He had seen the compass respond to changes in the Gu World's spiritual currents. He had seen it react to the awakening of ancient formations and the appearance of powerful inheritances.
But it had never cracked.
Not once in hundreds of years.
He raised a hand and released a thread of primordial essence.
The compass trembled.
A faint golden light emerged from the fracture, followed by a pulse of crimson energy.
Then both disappeared.
The old man's expression changed.
"Another variable..."
He withdrew his hand.
For several moments, he remained silent.
Then he turned toward the enormous mural behind the compass.
It depicted an ancient formation surrounding a central circle. Six lines extended outward from the center, each ending at a separate node. A seventh line had been carved around the edge, but its destination was missing.
The old man had spent decades studying the mural.
He had never discovered what the seventh line represented.
Now, for the first time, a faint golden mark appeared along its edge.
His face became grave.
"So the old records were not entirely wrong."
He stood and walked toward a sealed door at the far end of the hall.
"Notify the observatory elders."
A voice answered from the darkness.
"What should we tell them?"
The old man paused.
"Tell them that the boundary has begun responding to a new resonance."
"And the source?"
The old man looked back at the cracked compass.
"We do not know."
He pressed his palm against the sealed door.
"That is precisely why we must find it before someone else does."
The door opened.
Beyond it, a long staircase descended into darkness.
The old man stepped inside.
Behind him, the spiritual compass gave one final pulse.
Then the golden light went out.
Han Feng reached a rocky shelter shortly before dawn.
He sealed the entrance with a crude formation, sat against the wall, and began treating his injuries in earnest.
His shoulder was swollen.
Several ribs were damaged.
The poison had not spread as far as he had feared, but it would take time to remove completely.
He had survived the battle.
He had freed some of the prisoners.
He had also revealed a fraction of the crimson flame's potential to anyone who had witnessed the attack.
The surviving demonic cultivators might remember his appearance. If the eyepatch leader lived, he would certainly seek revenge.
Han Feng closed his eyes.
He had no regrets about stopping the caravan.
But he regretted allowing the fight to become so costly.
Next time, he would need better information, a clearer escape route, and a more reliable understanding of the power he intended to use.
The Celestial Diagram rotated slowly within his consciousness.
The golden lines remained visible.
For a moment, a tiny symbol appeared between two of them.
It resembled a broken circle.
Han Feng tried to focus on it.
The symbol disappeared.
He opened his eyes.
The room was silent.
Outside, the first light of dawn spread across the mountains.
Han Feng leaned back against the wall and let his breathing settle.
"The convergence has begun..."
He repeated the words quietly.
He did not know who had spoken.
He did not know what was converging.
And he refused to assume that the voice had been warning him rather than announcing something that had already become inevitable.
For now, he had only three certainties.
The golden seal was reacting to forces beyond his understanding.
The Celestial Diagram was responding to the same disturbances.
And somewhere in the Central Region, people had begun watching the changes closely enough to notice his existence.
Han Feng looked toward the sealed entrance.
His journey east had become more dangerous than he had anticipated.
But turning back would solve nothing.
He needed resources, information, and a place where he could investigate the changes without attracting another army of enemies.
He would reach the Central Region.
He would discover what the old man was searching for.
And when the next fissure opened, he intended to understand at least a little more than he did now.
Until then, he would remain what he had always been.
A survivor.
One who knew that the most dangerous moment was not when a new power appeared—
but when he began believing he understood it.