Chapter Thirty-Seven: Return to the Crimson Flame Mountain

In the afternoon, the intense sunlight pierced through the dense forest, dispelling the lingering dampness in the air.

A man in his twenties walked along a woodland path. His expression was resolute, his breathing steady, yet the fresh bloodstains on the long blade at his side made it clear he was not out for a leisure stroll.

Trailing behind him was a youth of seventeen or eighteen, whose sword-like brows and bright eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness. Half his robe was smeared with blood, emanating a pungent stench.

This was the aftermath of their second battle. The two had encountered a red-striped wild boar in a mountain valley.

At Chen Qi’s insistence, he had taken on the boar alone. Yet, as it neared death, the beast fled in a frenzy, forcing Sun Ruohai, who was standing guard, to slay it. The marks on his clothing bore witness to the boar’s desperate struggle.

“I think I’ve been here before!” Chen Qi broke the silence. If his memory served him, this was the path he had followed while chasing a wild boar on his first foray into the mountains—which meant that not far ahead lay the Crimson Flame Mountain.

Sun Ruohai, behind him, did not respond; his demeanor was far more relaxed than when they had first entered the woods.

“Get down!” Chen Qi’s peripheral vision caught a flash of violet in the distance, and he shouted in alarm, dropping swiftly into the nearby shrubs.

Sun Ruohai hesitated for a second, then decisively mimicked Chen Qi’s actions, even holding his breath.

The violet shadow approached in an instant—it was a Violet Thunder Eagle.

This bird, deep purple verging on black, was at least twice the size of any eagle Chen Qi had seen on television. Its feathers bristled, and up close one could hear the crackling of electrical arcs. Its talons jutted outward, covered in barbs—true instruments of death.

Unlike its usual soaring flights, this time it rose barely ten meters, its focus riveted on the ground below.

Circling overhead, it let out a piercing cry, fiercely scanning the forest beneath with its predatory gaze. Violet lightning flickered about its body, betraying its agitation.

If Chen Qi guessed correctly, the eagle was hungry; its talons were empty, and it had yet to catch any prey.

The two men held their breath, terrified of being discovered. The Violet Thunder Eagle was a genuine fifth-grade beast, and with its power, it could likely kill a seventh-grade beast with a single swoop.

And every seventh-grade beast could fight Chen Qi for quite some time.

“Damn!” As the violet shadow finally disappeared into the sky, Chen Qi cursed, furious at the sensation of cowering in fear.

Sun Ruohai, too, wore the look of someone who had narrowly escaped death. By his limited experience, this was the first true life-and-death crisis he had ever faced.

—

Accidents always come unannounced.

Sun Ruohai still looked dazed, so Chen Qi offered comfort: “That feathered brute is so cocky—maybe it’ll run into one of the senior sisters from the inner sect and get a good thrashing.”

He said this, though he doubted it was likely. He believed the senior sister leading their group was not weaker than the fifth-grade beast, but the creature could fly, after all.

As far as he knew, no inner sect disciple had mastered flight—at most, they could leap a few yards and hover briefly.

Sun Ruohai finally snapped out of it, embarrassed by his momentary lapse.

Chen Qi approached and patted his shoulder, saying nothing more. He understood the feeling—it was like that moment in the classroom, creeping up behind an armed assailant.

Everyone grows, and young men need setbacks most of all.

Some are crushed by adversity; others are reborn.

“Let’s keep moving!” Sun Ruohai suddenly declared, swinging his sleeve and stepping forward, as if determined to leave his cowardice behind forever.

Chen Qi, admiring him, followed. Someone as exceptional as his brother would surely overcome the terror of facing death.

Soon, they reached the mountain’s summit. In the distance, to the southwest, a mountain glowed crimson—the Crimson Flame Mountain.

Unlike the last time Chen Qi saw its calm yet perilous red forest, now a massive bonfire blazed at the foot of the mountain, thick smoke billowing upward and stirring unrest all around.

From afar, it looked like a bald patch among the dense woods.

Chen Qi strained to see; above the bonfire, a figure seemed to leap up and down, with hills collapsing and trees falling in the chaos. The cries of beasts echoed faintly.

Sun Ruohai’s vision was sharper; he exclaimed with delight, “It’s Senior Sister! She’s luring the beasts to slaughter them.”

Chen Qi understood at once. The two exchanged a glance and sprinted toward the bonfire—an ideal chance to finish off wounded beasts and scavenge their materials.

With the downhill terrain and their full speed unleashed, they shot forward like arrows, soon arriving at the bonfire.

What greeted Chen Qi stunned him—

—

Several massive red trees were piled together, their pale crimson branches entwined. Above the woodpile, fierce flames roared, black smoke and the scent of scorching wood spreading in all directions.

Yet even this intense blaze could not mask the reek of blood in the air!

Around the bonfire lay the broken bodies of savage beasts, blood pooling and staining the reddish earth black. Some dying beasts still whimpered faintly.

Hearing more commotion not far off, Chen Qi rushed on, barely pausing to take in the scene.

Bang!

A crimson shadow was smashed into the muddy ground, raising a cloud of dust that obscured Chen Qi’s sight, and gouging a deep pit in the earth.

Roar!

From the haze came a fierce beast’s bellow, shaking the dust apart and sending cracks spidering outward from the impact point.

Even though the roar was not aimed at Chen Qi, he felt his body tingle, his blood sluggish—the beast nearby was terrifyingly powerful.

When the smoke cleared, Chen Qi saw a magnificent tiger with red markings lying in the pit. But unlike the majestic tigers of his memory, this one was covered in bloody wounds; half an ear was gone, and several places still oozed tiger blood. Even the king’s mark on its head had been torn, making it look all the more desolate.

Cornered, the savage tiger refused to surrender. As the figure in the green robe opposite hesitated from the roar, the beast sprang from the pit, its bloody claws bared, and its massive forepaw slashed at the figure.

The paw hit its mark—but the figure vanished, revealing only an afterimage!

Sensing imminent danger behind, the tiger knew things had gone awry, but could not react in time; it lashed its chain-like tail toward the threat.

A figure appeared behind the tiger—a woman in green robes, her hair pinned high, features delicate and refined, with willow brows framing her oval face, lending her an air of elegant grace.

She was the leader, Senior Sister Yun. As the tiger’s tail whipped toward her head, she showed no fear. Her slender fingertips, already charged with emerald light, released three beams in a triangular formation, each over a foot long.

The green rays struck the tiger’s tail, snapping it instantly, then continued their unstoppable course, piercing the beast between its hind legs.

As one beam hit the tiger squarely in the anus, Chen Qi’s lips twitched, feeling a pang of sympathy for the creature.

The tiger’s pain ended swiftly. It let out one last feeble roar, then collapsed, its haunch torn open, red and yellow matter spilling out.