Chapter Fifty-Seven: Old Foes, Bitter Eyes

The underground cavern, after the great battle, lay silent and still. Occasionally, a breeze would drift through, stirring slight ripples upon the lake, so much like the unrest in Chen Qi's heart.

He remained seated cross-legged atop the central stone platform, his long blade resting across his knees. His left hand pressed gently against the blade, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm, producing clear, resonant echoes.

As for the first question, Chen Qi considered his worries pointless. With his current strength, he could not sway the tides of battle. His survival in this contest was itself a stroke of fortune; had that fearsome pangolin beast not held back, he would already be a mutilated corpse. His only real contribution, perhaps, had been to caution his senior sister, the leader, urging prudence and thus ensuring the squad a chance of retreat.

But the second question waged a fierce war within his mind. It was like the decisive move in a game of chess, with his very life as the stake.

He quickly dismissed the thought of returning to the sect on his own. On one hand, he did not believe that such a simple method could truly evade all danger; on the other, he had to admit that he had developed a certain affection for this squad, for whom he had risked his life.

Here were his brothers, his graceful and dignified senior sister, and fellow disciples who had fought by his side.

To flee at the first sign of peril—though it might be the mark of a cunning man, though it was praised as wisdom within his society, though no one could rightfully blame him—still, he, Chen Qi, could not bring himself to accept it.

In the end, it was the impetuousness of youth—undaunted by death, loyalty above all!

“Alas!”

Having made his decision, Chen Qi let out a long sigh. Though his face showed a pained and sorrowful expression, within a few breaths, he had banished all distracting thoughts. His mind was clear as a polished mirror.

With a crisp sound, the long blade slid back into its sheath, yet the intent within him grew even sharper, as if he were a swordsman standing upright between heaven and earth, frank and unyielding.

In that moment, Chen Qi sensed that his basic swordsmanship, level two, was close to a breakthrough. The parry technique he had mastered in this recent battle—if he could wield it skillfully outside the confines of the skill, disassemble it, and blend it into his ordinary strikes, his swordsmanship would transcend to a new level.

Though the “Seedling Space” had never stated it outright, Chen Qi was certain that such a natural breakthrough would yield far greater benefits than directly assigning points...

No one seemed to notice the change in Chen Qi, save for the senior sister who led the squad. She observed his expression from afar, a hint of doubt in her eyes, but ultimately held her tongue.

Soon, the group finished their rest. Maintaining their formation, they waded through the water, retracing their steps along the path they had come.

Having already suffered losses within the cave, everyone in the squad was slightly on guard, wary of repeating past mistakes and incurring further casualties.

As they passed by the earthen pit where the shifty-eyed disciple had been buried, the atmosphere grew suddenly solemn. It was especially so for the disciple surnamed Ao, who had lost an arm. He gazed at the mound with a complex, unfathomable look—no one could guess what he felt at that moment.

Their pace did not falter. The group pressed on until they emerged from the cavern, encountering no further incident. It seemed that all the stronger beasts within the cave had perished; none dared challenge the squad’s might, a stark contrast to the perils of their arrival.

This, Chen Qi decided, was only logical. Though they were still within the most dangerous stretch of several miles, the once-dominant Blood God Bee swarm had been annihilated, and the battle by the underground lake had claimed many formidable beasts. The relative safety now was well-earned.

As he recalled the events, Chen Qi found himself grumbling about the Blood God Bees. Though these beasts had provided him with many treasure chests, their bodies were worthless for contribution points. They were, in the end, not truly “fine” beasts.

Upon exiting the cavern, the light changed instantly. The surroundings brightened, reminiscent of switching maps in an online game.

It was just past noon. The blazing sun beat down upon Chen Qi’s head, its glare mingling with the scarlet flora around him, making him feel momentarily dazed.

The Crimson Flame Mountain looked much as it always had, but after a day of exploring its depths, they were no longer the same people who had entered.

The senior sister, gathering her true energy, flashed up onto a towering red pine, pointing out the direction for them to proceed.

Perhaps still shaken by the death of their companion, the squad’s mood remained somber; no one spoke, and the only sound was that of their footsteps.

In this silence, they began their descent. The oppressive mood made Chen Qi, usually so fond of jokes and jests, feel ill at ease. He wished to lighten the atmosphere, but could not find the right moment.

Suddenly, his ears twitched. He caught a familiar sound.

It was a call, somewhere between a wolf and a leopard, distant but audible only because of the prevailing quiet.

The inner disciples present surely had sharper hearing than Chen Qi, yet they paid it no mind, having already judged that the beast behind the sound was of little threat.

But Chen Qi could not let it pass!

He strode several steps to the front of the group and, facing their puzzled gazes, bowed deeply and called out in a loud, clear voice:

“Senior brothers and sisters! On my last journey into the mountains, I was chased by a Crimson Flame Beast with nowhere to run and no place to hide. Only with the help of an elder did I barely escape with my life. Now, by chance, we meet again. I beg you all—help me avenge this humiliation!”

No sooner had he spoken than someone replied from within the group:

“What could be easier!”

With that, the speaker—his good brother, Sun Ruohai—shot out toward the direction of the Crimson Flame Beast.

Hearing Chen Qi’s request, the senior sister covered her mouth with a smile. “I have long heard Elder Chi say that junior brother is fiercely vengeful. Today I see your reputation is well-deserved.”

Seeing the atmosphere ease at once, the round-faced inner disciple beside her joined in with a laugh: “Let’s see who can slay the most Crimson Flame Beasts. I’ll put up a hundred contribution points as a prize!”

So, with a few words and playful jest, the fate of the Crimson Flame Beast pack was all but sealed.

Enticed by the reward, Chen Qi ran faster than ever, charging ahead of the group. His long blade flashed, aura fierce and bloodthirsty.

Yet this time was different—he now had comrades fighting alongside him. The inner disciples, in particular, could slay beasts at a distance with a mere flick of the wrist, and Chen Qi watched them with envy.

The Crimson Flame Beast pack numbered several dozen, scattered throughout the mountain forest. Once they had swept across the land in a single pack, but now they were split into several groups, each confronted by humans dispatching them with impunity.

At the center of the largest pack was a particularly imposing Crimson Flame Beast, its body faintly wreathed in blood-red light, several times larger than the others. The beasts around it—its guards—were also fiercer and more powerful, marking it clearly as the leader.

Yet in its eyes now shone unmistakable fear. Having only just ascended to its role, it could not command its followers with complete authority. Facing the chaos of the herd, it was helpless, panic-stricken.

Chen Qi glanced at it, shaking his head. Compared to the one he had faced before, this leader hadn’t even managed to fully form its blood-colored aura—a true decline from one generation to the next.

His mind turned, but his hand was merciless. Every blade stroke struck at vital points, and soon, several Crimson Flame Beast corpses lay at his feet.

From the corner of his eye, he saw another shadow pounce. Without even raising his eyelids, Chen Qi met it head-on, his blade intercepting the beast’s gaping jaws, steel grinding against savage fangs.

Seeing his blade caught in the beast’s mouth, several nearby Crimson Flame Beasts rallied, their claws and fangs slashing at his vital points, filling the air with whistling winds.

Suddenly, Chen Qi grinned, flashing white teeth. What had seemed an ordinary blade erupted with blood-red energy, blasting the Crimson Flame Beast’s jaws into a bloody ruin, its teeth scattering in all directions.