Chapter 68: A Matter of Life and Death

Lingyu silently recited the Xuan Shui Art in her heart, releasing a water dragon from time to time to keep herself from being driven mad by the searing heat radiating from the volcanic rock walls. She had few Ice Talismans left—at a time like this, it was best to save them.

Behind her, Ding Huaqing followed closely, imitating her actions. The passage was narrow and long, the heat oppressive, making her feel stifled.

They walked for a long time, yet the end was nowhere in sight. Gradually, Ding Huaqing grew impatient. If Luo Yun hadn't come running, and Han Funing hadn't happened to find this passage at that very moment, she and Meng Yan wouldn't have followed at all.

The path to the Upper Realm—how could it be so easily found? She scoffed at the idea. If the chances of repairing the Heavenly Pillar hadn't been so low, she wouldn't have had a trace of interest in seeking the Upper Realm. Was it really worth risking so much for the sake of some so-called greater world? If there were a clear path here today, she, too, would want to ascend. But to search so aimlessly, possibly even losing her life in the process… She'd rather not.

And yet Han Funing was so convinced, and this Junior Sister Cheng just had to follow along in this madness. She really couldn't understand—Master had always been cold toward Han Funing, so why did Junior Sister have to insist on associating with her? All Master's kindness seemed wasted!

At this thought, Ding Huaqing grew more disgruntled. She was Liu Weiyi's first disciple; by rights, she should have been his favorite. But reality was otherwise. Liu Weiyi always said her talent was decent, but her mind lacked calm; at best, she might become a top-tier expert, but she would hardly achieve greatness. Meanwhile, this Cheng Lingyu—who wasn't even officially his disciple—received his constant care and praise, with talk of her possessing "the heart of a sword cultivator."

What did that mean, the heart of a sword cultivator? Was it really as simple as practicing swordplay every day and ignoring everything else? If so, it was far too easy!

The more Ding Huaqing thought about it, the more restless she became, until she finally lost control and let out a loud cry.

Lingyu was startled, turning her head to look, "Senior Sister Ding?"

Ding Huaqing snapped back to herself, realizing her loss of composure. She took a deep breath. "It's nothing, just too oppressive in here."

"Oh…" Lingyu turned away and continued on. To her, although the space was indeed cramped and stifling, it was not unbearable. In that month she had spent comprehending sword qi, she had first soaked daily in the Abyssal River, then immersed herself in flames, training her mind to tranquility and patience. Together with years of immersion in Daoist scripture, she felt little discomfort now.

She recalled her days wandering in Fancheng, when Xuanchenzi had found her. He once said to her: "If all you know is brute force, you’ll amount to nothing but a petty thug; but if you possess cunning as well as strength, then you might become a true force in the world."

To be fair, though Xuanchenzi had his own motives, his kindness far outweighed his enmity. Three years of guidance had led her onto the path of cultivation and taught her what it truly meant to stand in the world.

After a while, Lingyu suddenly stopped. "Something feels wrong…"

"What is it?" Ding Huaqing asked, puzzled.

Lingyu closed her eyes, focusing all her attention on her spiritual web. Each strand of spiritual energy seemed to vibrate, the tremors growing stronger, like the strings of a zither about to ring out—

"The volcano!" Suddenly, realization dawned on Lingyu. She snapped her eyes open and shouted.

"What?" Ding Huaqing was thoroughly confused.

Lingyu was so alarmed she nearly lost control. Cold sweat trickled down her temples as she forced herself to remain steady, explaining rapidly, "The volcano may be erupting again! We have to go, now!"

Ding Huaqing was shocked. "Again? Then we—" She turned to run.

"Senior Sister Ding, this way!" Lingyu seized her sleeve, pulling her back. "We've come too far—it's too late! The magma will pour in from that side. The farther we run that way, the quicker we'll die!"

Panic-stricken, Ding Huaqing couldn't help but shout, "It's all your fault! Chasing after this so-called Upper Realm—if we die here, I—"

"Shut up!" Lingyu had no patience for her blame. She shook Ding Huaqing off and ran ahead on her own. "Go or stay as you like—I don't care!"

Ding Huaqing was furious—when had anyone ever spoken to her that way? Especially Lingyu, who, for five years, had always been so well-behaved, never once disrespectful.

But now was not the time for arguments. If the volcano really did erupt again, quarreling would only make things worse, and she would be left with no one to rely on. At that, Ding Huaqing clamped her mouth shut and ran after Lingyu.

The rumble grew louder, from distant to near, the heat intensifying. As they ran, Ding Huaqing noticed flames flaring up more and more around them.

"What do we do? It's getting hotter!" she cried.

"What else? If this path really leads to the Upper Realm, then we’re lucky. If not, we accept our fate!" Lingyu replied.

"Accept our fate? You mean, die here?" Ding Huaqing’s voice rose to a shriek.

Lingyu couldn't be bothered to answer. Wasn't it obvious? With their cultivation, what could they do against magma? In an instant, the heat would consume them, reducing them to ash.

At this moment, all she could do was pray for luck—that this path led to life.

As for the alternative, she didn't have time to dwell on it. If fate decreed their end, then death would come in the blink of an eye.

Behind them, the roar grew ever sharper, the heat ever more searing. They stumbled as they ran, slapping Travel Talismans and Ice Talismans onto themselves. The Travel Talismans were for speed, but the heat was so intense that the talismans quickly ignited, forcing them to rely on the Ice Talismans to keep cool and preserve their effect.

Even so, they could not hope to outrun the speed of an eruption. Behind them, the magma gathered into a crimson tide, growing thicker and closer with each passing moment.

"Aah—!" Ding Huaqing screamed, on the verge of collapse.

Lingyu was only marginally better, her nerves stretched to the breaking point.

"Junior Sister!" echoed a voice from ahead.

Both women froze, then rejoiced—Meng Yan’s voice!

"Junior Sister, where are you?" Meng Yan called, his voice coming from up ahead.

In unison, they sped forward. The narrow passage abruptly widened, and three tunnels converged into one.

Lingyu reached the spot, seeing four others already gathered there. At the end of the passage stood a heap of chaotic boulders, sealing it off completely.

"No way forward?" Lingyu stared blankly at the rocks.

"No way?" Ding Huaqing rushed over, desperately clawing at the rocks, only to burn her hands on the scorching stones. She burst into sobs. "What do we do? I don’t want to die here, I don’t want to die…"

"Junior Sister, junior sister…" Meng Yan tried to comfort her, but was too panicked to manage more than incoherent words.

"Silence!" Han Funing’s voice was cold as a blade. "Look at you two—what a disgrace! Move aside!"

Lingyu had never seen Han Funing angry before; she was startled by how terrifying he looked when he scowled. Ding Huaqing and Meng Yan shrank back, too frightened even to cry.

Han Funing stood before the boulder pile, drew a stack of talismans, and hurled them at the rocks, one after another—explosive talismans, thrown with no regard for cost.

Realizing his intent, Lingyu quickly took out her own talismans, throwing them all forward as well.

She had only three explosive talismans left, but plenty of other spell talismans—her own, those issued by her sect, some from Han Funing, others from Liu Weiyi. She wasn't afraid of running out, only of running out of time.

Han Funing glanced at her, satisfaction flashing in his eyes. She was, indeed, the one he had his eye on—not like those two fools.

Next came Fan Xianshu, then Luo Yun. The four of them said nothing, hurling talismans nonstop, hoping to blast open a path.

"It’s not working—" Fan Xianshu turned after a while. "The magma’s nearly here!"

Despite their desperate attack, they had only cleared a short stretch. Who knew how much further the rocks extended, or if there was even a path behind them?

Han Funing suddenly stopped. Lingyu saw him draw his spirit sword, his expression resolute. He pressed two fingers to his brow, forcing out drops of blood—one, two, three… His face turned deathly pale, his steps faltered, but he gritted his teeth, swiped his blood onto the blade, and instantly, the sword shone with dazzling light.

"This is…" Lingyu watched in disbelief.

"The Blood Sacrifice Art…" murmured Fan Xianshu.

The Blood Sacrifice Art—using one’s own blood to greatly amplify a magic weapon’s power. She had thought this ancient technique, recorded only in old texts, long since lost to time. Who would have guessed Han Funing knew it!

Han Funing’s gaze was calm as still water. He raised his hand; the spirit sword leapt from his grip, transforming into a streak of light that shot forward.

With a thunderous boom, a powerful shockwave blasted through the rock pile, clearing a path a hundred meters deep.

When the sound faded, Han Funing staggered, nearly collapsing.

"Uncle Han!" Lingyu called, stepping forward to steady him.

Han Funing looked at the passage ahead and sighed in disappointment. "Can it be that all my schemes, all my life, are to end here?"

The sound of magma flooding the passage was now loud and clear. Soon, the searing heat would consume them; in an instant, they would be nothing but ash.

Lingyu remembered the item she carried, gritted her teeth, and let him go, stepping forward.

Han Funing saw her pull out a golden talisman, emblazoned with a lifelike sword. He was stunned. "A Weapon Talisman?"

Indeed, it was a Weapon Talisman! The Xuan Yuan Temple had preserved one, kept in the Hall of Spiritual Scenes.

How did she have a Weapon Talisman?!

Before Han Funing could process this, Lingyu activated it. In a burst of brilliant light, a tangible sword materialized, hovered for an instant, then crashed into the rock pile ahead.

With a series of deafening crashes—far louder than before—the sword cut through the rocks as easily as clay, carving a clear path. When the tumult faded, a broad passage lay open before them.

"There’s a way through!" Luo Yun called out in delight.

"Go!" Han Funing ordered, leading the group forward at a run.

The rumbling was now deafening; glancing back, they saw the torrent of magma bearing down upon them.

Lingyu followed Han Funing, sprinting desperately. Up ahead, a pale light shimmered in the distance.

"Could that be the entrance to the Upper Realm?" her heart pounded with hope and excitement.

As they reached the spot, she heard Ding Huaqing’s desperate cry from behind: "No, wait for me!"

She looked back—Ding Huaqing and Meng Yan were at the rear, nearly overtaken by the magma. Meng Yan ran, heedless of his fiancée falling behind. Suddenly, Ding Huaqing leaped up, seized Meng Yan’s collar, and pulled herself forward.

Meng Yan was yanked off his feet, staring in disbelief as Ding Huaqing shot ahead. He had no time to speak; the magma swept over him in an instant, leaving not a trace.

"Meng Shixiong!" Luo Yun wailed, trying to run back, but Fan Xianshu held him fast.

Han Funing frowned, staggering; just then, Ding Huaqing caught up, exhausted, and grabbed his leg without thinking. "Uncle Han, save me!"

In that instant, with just a breath to spare, the magma would reach them.

Lingyu was already standing in the white light. Before the magma could engulf Han Funing, her vision blurred, her body lifted, and everything vanished.

ps: I had planned to finish this arc in two chapters, but ended up deleting and revising as I wrote, so it’s done in just one. I’ll post this one now and write two more after I’ve had some sleep.