The night was still. A cool breeze drifted through the courtyards of Shanhaiyuan, carrying with it the faint fragrance of flowers.
The bright moon hung high in the heavens, pouring down its silvery glow like a gentle stream.
Earlier, Lu Xueqi had confronted Zhang Xiaofan beneath the same moonlight, demanding an honest answer from him.
Yet, Zhang Xiaofan, as usual, teased her instead.
"Can you answer me seriously?" she asked coldly, her clear eyes locking onto his face.
Zhang Xiaofan rubbed his chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. After a pause, he leaned closer and said with a mischievous grin:
"Of course I can. But… I'll only tell you if you give me a fat son in the future."
"You...disgusting!" Lu Xueqi's frosty tone cut through the quiet courtyard.
Her brows furrowed, and she glared at him as if she could freeze him where he stood.
"If you don't want to tell me, then forget it. I'll find out the truth myself!"
With a cold snort, she spun around, her white robes fluttering like snow in the moonlight.
Without sparing him another glance, she strode off toward her guest room.
Zhang Xiaofan watched her back with a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"This Naiqi… always so stubborn. Tough on the outside, but inside, she's more persistent than anyone."
He shook his head, half amused, half helpless.
Teasing the icy beauty had its own charm....it was a rare sight to see her lose composure.
With that thought, he turned back to his own quarters.
Within moments, Zhang Xiaofan was stretched across his bed, drifting into slumber.
It was unclear how long he had been asleep when suddenly....
He found himself standing in a boundless sea of blood.
The air was heavy with the stench of iron, suffocating, oppressive. Waves of blood rolled and churned around him, releasing a violent aura that seemed eager to swallow all life.
Countless blood-red hands rose from the abyss, clawing toward him, grasping at his limbs, seeking to drag him down into eternal damnation.
The suffocating aura whispered to his heart: Kill… devour… surrender…
Zhang Xiaofan's expression darkened. His eyes flashed coldly as his voice rang out, cutting through the murderous whispers:
"Hmph!"
Instantly, the Tai Chi Xuanqing Dao and the Great Brahma Prajna stirred within his body, surging forth like twin rivers of light.
The demonic illusion shattered like broken glass, dispersing into nothingness.
He awoke with a jolt, sitting upright on his bed, his forehead drenched with cold sweat.
From the open window, pale moonlight spilled into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Rubbing his throbbing temples, he let out a long breath. His heart still raced as the memory of the dream lingered in his mind.
With a flick of his hand, the fire stick flew from the corner into his grasp.
The moment his fingers curled around it, a faint red glow pulsed across its surface, sinister and alive.
He narrowed his eyes.
"As expected… the dream was caused by you."
Taoist Master Daoxuan's words echoed in his memory:
. The fire stick is a weapon of immense power, yet it is a double-edged blade. While granting strength, it corrodes the heart and body, leading its wielder down the devil's path.
Zhang Xiaofan knew it well. The fire stick was no ordinary weapon....it was the unholy fusion of the Bloodthirsty Pearl and the Soul-Snatching Rod, refined into one.
Its power rivaled even the legendary Tianya Sword of the Qingyun Sect, yet its demonic influence was terrifying.
When Monk Puzhi had first discovered the Bloodthirsty Pearl, the land for ten miles had been littered with corpses,
life utterly extinguished. Even a monk at the peak of Shangqing like him had ultimately fallen into madness, committing the atrocity of slaughtering an entire village.
Only when he awoke from his frenzy did regret consume him.
If a peerless monk like Puzhi could not resist, what chance did ordinary men have?
Now, Zhang Xiaofan not only possessed the Bloodthirsty Pearl but had fused it with the Soul-Snatching Rod into a weapon even more dangerous.
Still, he did not...and would not.....let it go.
Why? Because this weapon, despite its demonic taint, was unimaginably powerful. It was his trump card, his hope for survival in a world where even immortals had failed to transcend.
"No one has ever truly attained immortality," he thought grimly.
"If I abandon this path, if I discard this weapon, how could I ever reach heights beyond the grasp of all before me?"
Resolve hardened in his chest.
"No. I won't discard you. I will conquer you. In my hands, you will submit."
The fire stick trembled faintly, as though mocking his ambition, but Zhang Xiaofan's grip tightened. His gaze was sharp, unwavering.
"One day, even the Zhuxian Sword will bow to me."
After a long silence, he released the weapon, letting it return to its place. His mind was already formulating the next step....seeking the Mysterious Fire Mirror, a treasure of pure yang energy, capable of suppressing the demonic influence of the fire stick.
With his cultivation now at Shangqing, he dared to attempt what he once could not: transforming the stick into a sword, blood-refined, perfectly suited to his mastery of Wan Jianyi's sword techniques.
For the sword was the true king of weapons.
Having set his resolve, Zhang Xiaofan pushed open the window. The night air was cool, carrying the fragrance of flowers. His eyes fell on the courtyard below...
And there, bathed in moonlight, was a slender figure in a short green dress.
Bi Yao.
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