Chapter 37: Song Jiao

When Wen Ci and Ye Minwei rushed to where the blue light was, they unexpectedly saw a familiar figure.

It was Song Jiao, the young, dark-skinned, and simple farmer with whom Ning Yu had stayed for several days. He stood sweating profusely at the cliff’s edge, holding a white stone ring. Facing Mount Chongdan, blue “swimming fish” formed from spiritual energy continuously streamed out from the ring, swimming through the air in waves, surging toward the volcano.

This was the Fish-Swallowing technique of the Fuguang Sect. These “swimming fish” could swallow spells or objects, sealing them within the ring to be released later.

“Song Jiao?” Wen Ci exclaimed in surprise.

Hearing his name, Song Jiao turned around. Seeing them was like seeing saviors; he nearly cried out, “Immortals! Immortals, you’re here! Please save us!”

“How do you have a spiritual artifact... Why haven’t you evacuated to Jiazhou yet? What about Granny Sun?”

“The day after you all moved out, I went down the mountain to gather firewood and met a white deer. It gave me this, along with a memory. In that memory, I saw you! Miss Yun Chuan — you must be Ye Minwei! You are the owner of this ring. I’ve been searching for you to return it, waiting all this time... By evening, I already sent Granny Sun to Jiazhou with relatives in town.”

Song Jiao stammered his explanation. Wen Ci pressed his temple, frustrated: “This nightmare beast really knows how to pick its moments!”

The sect had been pursuing it for over a month. It dodged and vanished repeatedly, leading everyone on a wild goose chase. Once the volcanic eruption started, it disappeared completely.

Just as Wen Ci and Ye Minwei left Song Jiao’s home, the creature appeared right before him. It seemed to be deliberately toying with everyone, especially Ye Minwei.

Why did it hand over the Fish-Swallowing spiritual artifact to Song Jiao? Was it to have him absorb the volcanic ejecta from Mount Chongdan? That was sheer folly.

Wen Ci immediately said to Song Jiao, “The volume of lava erupting from Mount Chongdan is too great. The Fish-Swallowing technique can’t contain it. The ring in your hand could shatter at any moment, and everything stored inside would be expelled! Drop it now and come with us!”

“No! There are still many people down the mountain! At least dozens who haven’t left yet. If I let go now, they’ll surely die! Immortals, please, I beg you, save us!”

“The sect is rescuing people below, but they’re scattered. Right now, we can only save as many as possible.”

“Then we hold on as long as we can! Please, I beg you!”

Song Jiao turned to Ye Minwei behind Wen Ci, pleading: “Immortal Ye, please! Aren’t you very powerful? Please think of a way. Those are lives!”

Only then did Wen Ci notice that Ye Minwei had remained silent. He looked back to find her calmly watching Song Jiao. The scorching wind whipped her white hair, singeing the tips. In the darkness obscured by ash, illuminated by the blue glow of the vision stone, one of her eyes was bloodshot, soaked in red.

“Alright.”

This was the woman who had never intended to save anyone from the start, yet she agreed. She even said with certainty, “I’ll find a way.”

Wen Ci narrowed his eyes slightly, surprise flickering briefly before he looked at the sweat-drenched Song Jiao and then at the dirt- and blood-streaked Ye Minwei. He finally took a deep breath.

“How long do you need?” he asked Ye Minwei.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“One incense stick’s time.”

“I’ll try.”

“Just try?”

Ye Minwei met Wen Ci’s gaze and said slowly, “I can.”

“Good.”

Just those words, “I can,” made Wen Ci utterly convinced. He agreed decisively without further questions.

Ye Minwei lifted her skirt and sat down cross-legged. All the spiritual vein maps she had stored in memory instantly appeared on the vision stone, filling her field of view. Her eyes moved rapidly between the spiritual veins, and with a flick of her fingers, countless symbols poured forth.

Wen Ci turned to the mountain with a solemn expression and said to Song Jiao, “Stop swallowing.”

“But if we stop, the ash and lava—”

“I told you to stop! If you don’t, this ring will explode and kill us all!” Wen Ci snapped.

Frightened, Song Jiao pressed the ring, and the blue light vanished. The scorching lava at the mountain’s peak surged down toward the nearby villages. Wen Ci raised his right hand, the bells on his bracelet suddenly jingling loudly and rapidly. The fiery lava and ash seemed to heed the call, rising into the air like a great dragon turning toward Wen Ci. A burning “heavenly bridge” ascended, its far end landing before him.

Wen Ci stood firm on the cliff, motionless. The molten flow disappeared into the void before him, as though an invisible vortex stood there.

The wind howled, and his eyes reflected the flames. The bell sounds grew wilder.

Song Jiao gasped, “Where... where did they go?”

“To the nightmare I summoned.”

“Nightmare? Can a dream hold so much?”

“One dream can’t hold it all. When one fills up, I summon another, and another, dozens of them. Before I lose my mind, I should be able to hold on for the length of one incense stick. When I can’t hold on, this lava and ash will spill out of me, and I’ll be the first to turn to ashes.”

Wen Ci spoke of terrifying things casually. Turning to Song Jiao, a faint smile curved his lips amid the flickering flames. “Alright, now no one can run. If we die, we die together.”

Song Jiao’s mouth hung open, stunned. After a moment, he suddenly took a step back and knelt, sobbing as he kowtowed deeply: “I... I never meant to drag two immortals into this... Your great kindness—I, Song Jiao, will be a beast of burden in my next life...”

“Fish-swallowing.” Ye Minwei didn’t look up but held out her hand, ignoring his words entirely.

Wen Ci chuckled softly.

Song Jiao’s words of repayment were cut off. He wiped his tears and got up, handing the scorching Fish-Swallowing ring to Ye Minwei.

Ye Minwei placed the ring full of lava and ash on the ground, tapping the vision stone. Then she bent over it again. On the seemingly ordinary pale earth beneath her, a network of numbers and spiritual vein circuits spread out—an invisible desk and battlefield to others.

The wind was hot and dry, laced with a heavy, pungent sulfur scent. Ye Minwei bent deeply, sweat dripping from her forehead onto the ground. Her lips cracked from dryness and pressed tighter and tighter. The eye not stained with blood gradually reddened, veins spreading.

Wen Ci had never seen Ye Minwei so earnest, so anxious — she seemed almost unlike herself.

Time passed like a rusty dull blade slicing flesh slowly and fatally. The bells on Wen Ci’s bracelet rang madly. Not only those on his wrist, but also those in his hair fluttered anxiously. The chaotic sound was alarming, as if the bronze tongues would shatter the bells if they rang any longer.

Wen Ci bit his lip, his gaze dark and intense, holding back something fiercely.

Suddenly, Ye Minwei stopped. Her forehead and neck were soaked with sweat, which diluted the blood and streamed down from her eyes.

She exhaled deeply and said softly, “Done.”

Song Jiao was overjoyed and about to ask, when the myriad phenomena spun rapidly, and the blue light surged so strongly it seemed night had turned to day.

Red flames erupted from Ye Minwei’s bent back. Amidst the burning flesh, wings grew—sprouting rapidly from her shoulder blades, sparks flying from the friction and igniting them. The newly born wings blazed fiercely.

Wen Ci’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed Song Jiao and quickly moved away from Ye Minwei.

Her wings grew taller and larger, towering above her head, as if a cage of fire enveloped her. When Ye Minwei raised her eyes to look at them, the wings suddenly spread wide, lifting her swiftly into the air. Sparks scattered, lighting up the night sky.

“Phoenix Order...” Wen Ci murmured, gazing at her.

Wings of flame, born from fire, riding the flames—a supreme technique of the Fuguang Sect.

“I modified the Fish-Swallowing ring, linking it with the Phoenix Order, one feeding into the other,” Ye Minwei said succinctly, then asked Wen Ci, “How many nightmares have you summoned now? How much longer can you hold?”

Wen Ci smiled softly. “More than thirty. Still holding.”

Ye Minwei nodded. Turning to Song Jiao, she said, “When Wen Ci stops, you continue connecting the Fish-Swallowing ring.”

Song Jiao was bewildered but trusted their words and nodded desperately.

As Wen Ci released his grip and the burning “heavenly bridge” fell, Song Jiao activated the Fish-Swallowing ring again. Ye Minwei grasped Wen Ci’s hand, pulling him into her embrace. Her enormous burning wings erupted instantly, lifting them both into the sky.

The Fish-Swallowing ring continuously swallowed lava and ash, no longer storing it inside but channeling it to Ye Minwei. Around her fiery wings gathered molten rock and ash, swirling like a massive fireball enveloping her, propelling her forward with each wingbeat.

She looked like a shooting star streaking across the sky, heading straight east.

Below, the disciples of the sect, busy rescuing people, looked up at the “shooting star” in the sky, eyes wide in awe. The floating “meteor” grew larger and larger; within the flowing lava on its surface, the fiery wings were faintly visible.

In Zhuo Yilang’s eyes, reflected in the bright “meteor,” he murmured, “It’s... the Phoenix Order.”

Who was it? The Phoenix Order was the supreme technique of the Fuguang Sect. Only four people in the entire sect mastered it, none of whom had come to Ning Yu.

It could only be Ye Minwei.

Yet Ye Minwei now had no cultivation or spiritual power.

—This technique allowed ordinary people to wield magic; cultivators and ordinary folks were indistinguishable. Years of hard cultivation were no match for a few years of learning with spiritual artifacts. If this spread, would the sect remain a sect?

—What would happen to this world when people mass-produce spiritual artifacts and azure crystals in time?

“Zhuo Yilang! Stop dazing, come help!” Amid the chaos, his junior uncle called his name. Zhuo Yilang bit his lip, turned, and helped a fallen, panicked refugee to their feet. “Coming.”

In the vast, boundless sky, Wen Ci was tightly held in Ye Minwei’s embrace, isolated from the scorching lava outside. She held him so firmly it was almost suffocating.

Just like in that nightmare, when she held the child.

Wen Ci didn’t ask her to loosen her grip. Instead, he hooked his arm around her neck and said, “You’re flying east. Are you going to take all this to the sea?”

“Yes, to the deep, uninhabited ocean, to pour all the ash and lava from Mount Chongdan in.” Ye Minwei replied.