Infinite Fire Record

Chapter 16: Hands-On

A broken kiln stood amidst desolation. Where there was desolation, there was life. At this moment, several figures stood in confrontation, their tension as sharp as drawn swords.

Ke Zhenxian stepped forward, gripping his black staff. His tightly shut eyes did not affect his demeanor in the slightest. He stood tall, chest lifted, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint, aloof smile. With a voice laced with disdain and lonely pride, he said, “Who are you to murder in broad daylight?”

The Imperial Sky furrowed his brows, muttering in his heart, Idiot. That arrogance, that demeanor… If not for Guo Jing’s name protecting him, he would have died long ago. Those who court disaster do not live long. So little skill, yet so much arrogance.

His right hand hovered over his waist, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His gaze locked onto the figure in the distance—Li Mochou.

Li Mochou’s eyes gleamed with murderous intent as a cold smile played on her lips. “Murder? I am not done killing yet!”

Already furious, Ke Zhenxian’s presence only served to enrage her further. With a wave of her right hand, her whisk moved like thousands of razor-sharp strands, tracing deadly arcs in the air. A crimson streak tainted its pristine white threads. The man beside her clutched his throat, despair in his wide eyes as he collapsed, lifeless.

Though Ke Zhenxian lacked sight, his hearing was razor-sharp. As if sensing the dying man’s silent plea, he shouted, “Thief! To kill before my very presence—such audacity!”

Without hesitation, he swung his black staff backward, aiming at Li Mochou by the sound alone.

The Imperial Sky’s expression darkened, a look of constipated frustration crossing his face.

Fool! he cursed inwardly. Li Mochou wanted to kill Lu Liding, but not this soon. If we had waited for Guo Jing, there might have been a chance to save him. But thanks to Ke Zhenxian’s reckless words, she killed him outright. That means half of Lu Liding’s death is on his hands.

Worse still, Ke Zhenxian had attacked without a second thought, utterly disregarding the child standing beside him. If he at least knew Imperial Sky’s strength, that would be one thing. But he did not. He had simply lashed out blindly, dragging everyone into a life-or-death struggle.

Imperial Sky’s gaze hardened with wary calculation. He now understood—Ke Zhenxian was nothing but a liability, a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Li Mochou’s eyes flickered with irritation as she sneered, “Hmph… Annoying. If not for Guo Jing and Huang Rong, you would have long perished under my whisk.”

With a flick of her wrist, the feathered weapon struck, its deceptively light movements carrying the force of a thousand pounds. Ke Zhenxian was sent sprawling to the ground, though unharmed—proof that Li Mochou had held back.

Still undeterred, Ke Zhenxian waved his right hand. A black iron dart shot forth, slicing through the air toward Li Mochou.

Her eyes blazed with fury. “Shameless!” she spat.

Imperial Sky watched the exchange with cold disdain. Shameless indeed.

To him, Ke Zhenxian was beneath contempt.

His voice rang out, calm yet commanding, “Eagle Child, one of you seek out my mother. The other, remain behind and guard Fu’er.”

His words carried a vast, unshakable authority. The two white eagles—though raised by Guo Jing—were utterly obedient to him. The allure of his medicinal elixirs was simply too strong for these mystical beasts to resist.

His gaze returned to Li Mochou, piercing and unwavering. “Li Mochou, stop! You could kill this man easily, but you will not. Behind him stands Guo Jing. You dare not.” His words, cold and matter-of-fact, sliced through the tension.

Li Mochou hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “Interesting,” she murmured. “This child speaks frankly. That old blind man is indeed infuriating. But you—your indifference intrigues me. Tell me, is your surname Guo?”

Imperial Sky met her gaze without flinching, his voice as chilling as the October wind. “I do not bear the surname Guo.”

A stunned silence fell over the battlefield. Ke Zhenxian’s face flickered with incredulity before twisting into anger.

Just then, two figures arrived. One, his expression livid, shouted, “Sinner! How dare you turn your back on your ancestors!”

Guo Jing and Huang Rong had arrived.

Guo Jing strode to Imperial Sky’s side and, without hesitation, swung his palm toward him.

Imperial Sky did not move. His face remained cold, eyes unreadable, as his right hand—already poised at his waist—snapped into motion.

A silver wind burst forth, carrying an eerie mix of searing heat and chilling frost. Two opposing forces, seamlessly entwined.

A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of Imperial Sky’s lips. The flame at the center of his forehead roared to life, blazing fiercely.

Boom!

With a grunt, Imperial Sky let the force propel him backward. Mid-air, he twisted, dissipating the impact before landing lightly on his feet.

A cold smile curled his lips.

Blowing Fire Palm. A low-tier Xuan-rank technique. Against Guo Jing, who has cultivated the Nine Yin True Scripture for years, there is still a gap in strength. However, my Fighting Qi is at the ninth stage, augmented by the weight of a thousand pounds. By willingly taking damage, I can channel a sliver of Bone Spirit Cold Fire’s power.

The silver wind pressure condensed in his hands, expanding into a vast, flowing current.

Guo Jing stifled a grunt, his right hand trembling. He had not expected Imperial Sky to possess such strength. That strike—so strange, so unlike any technique he had encountered—had left his right hand numbed, its forces still entangling his meridians.

Imperial Sky wiped the blood from his lips, his expression unreadable as the remnants of his Bone Spirit Cold Flame flickered within his body.