Beauty and Might: Heavenly Flames

Ji Hong clasped his hands behind his back. ”You’ve slain more than five hundred beasts in just three days. That kind of slaughter, even against mere beasts, leaves an imprint.”

”Right now, you carry a faint trace of Killing Aura—thin enough that most would not notice. However, when you returned from the valley, Elder Yu Long sensed it clearly. He said your aura was thick and oppressive.”

Li Yan’s eyes widened slightly.

Ji Hong continued, ”A night’s rest and your disciplined studies throughout the day have weakened its presence, masking it from sight. But the aura itself hasn’t vanished—it has merely sunk deeper, partially absorbed into your body. The residue still lingers within you.”

Li Yan lowered his gaze, a faint crease forming between his brows after hearing that.

He hadn’t thought of the consequences. For him, the hunt had been nothing more than a task—a chance to temper his skills and complete Yao Fuhuo’s assignment to awaken his element affinity.

And now, he realized that each life taken, even those of beasts, had quietly etched itself into his spirit.

After a long, thoughtful pause, he looked up again. His tone was steady, but his eyes held sharp resolve. ”Then, Elder Ji, please guide me. How can I handle this Killing Aura?”

Ji Hong’s expression softened with quiet approval. ”There are ways,” he said.

”The first way is to strengthen your mind. Meditation will be your greatest weapon—empty your thoughts, focus your will, and reclaim mastery over your emotions. A steady heart suppresses the blood’s chaos.”

He paused, his gaze deepening. ”Second, maintain your moral center. Killing Aura feeds on intent—on anger, hatred, or obsession. So long as your purpose remains clear and just, its influence will weaken. Lose that balance, and the aura will begin shaping you instead.”

Li Yan nodded slowly, absorbing every word. ”So… meditation to fortify the mind, and a clear sense of purpose. Those are the keys?”

”Exactly,” Ji Hong affirmed.

”As your cultivation grows and you face greater trials, your Killing Aura will strengthen as well. When properly restrained, it becomes a weapon—an extension of your will, capable of shaking even stronger foes. But if neglected…” His gaze hardened. ”It will become your greatest weakness.”

Resolve settled across Li Yan’s features. His eyes met the elder’s with quiet determination. ”I understand, Elder Ji. I’ll train this aura as I would any other technique—with caution, control, and discipline.”

A faint smile touched Ji Hong’s lips, pride flickering in his eyes. ”Good. Remember—strength without clarity is ruin. A cultivator without a steadfast mind will always be devoured by his own strength.”

With a wave of his hand, Ji Hong summoned a thin book bound in faded black leather and held it out. ”This text covers different ways, one to expel the Killing Aura, another to control it—methods of meditation, mental fortitude, and more. Study it well.”

Li Yan accepted it with a respectful bow. ”Thank you, Elder Ji. I’m grateful for your guidance. I’ll begin studying it at dawn—after I’ve rested. It’s been a long day of learning.”

Ji Hong nodded approvingly. ”Rest is just as vital as training.”

Ji Hong placed a hand on Li Yan’s shoulder. A soft surge of Qi enveloped them both, and the next moment, the quiet chamber dissolved into motion. Space blurred—then steadied—leaving them standing in the silent hallway outside Li Yan’s quarters.

Before Ji Hong could depart, Li Yan spoke again. ”Elder Ji, may I ask something?”

Ji Hong turned, his tone patient. ”Of course. Speak freely.”

Li Yan hesitated briefly before continuing, ”Earlier, during our meal, you mentioned ancient legends wield Superior Elemental Affinities. Could you recommend some records or books that detail those legends?”

A spark of approval glimmered in Ji Hong’s eyes. ”Ah, so that caught your interest.” He nodded. ”Very well. Tomorrow I’ll arrange for several volumes from the library’s ancient section to be set aside for you. You may collect them from me whenever you wish.”

Li Yan bowed deeply. ”Thank you, Elder Ji. I plan to visit the hunting ground tomorrow—I’ll collect them once I’m back.”

”Take care, Li Yan,” Ji Hong said, his voice softening as his form began to fade. ”And remember—discipline of the mind is the root of all mastery. Neglect it, and every power you gain will turn against you.”

With that, Ji Hong vanished, and silence returned to the corridor.

Li Yan looked down at the thin leather book in his hand. With a faint wave, he stored it inside his storage ring. Unlocking the door with his disciple badge, he stepped into the serene, lamp-lit room. The air was still, the space quietly luxurious.

As he lay down on the bed, exhaling deeply. The day’s lessons, Ji Hong’s words, and the knowledge he had gathered in the library echoed in his thoughts—layered, heavy, but inspiring.

Tomorrow, he would face the hunt again—but this time, with new awareness of the power and knowledge.

His eyes slowly closed, and sleep claimed him.

✦✦✦

The first rays of dawn spilled across the mountain peaks, painting the sect in a warm, golden glow. Li Yan stirred from his sleep and rose from bed, the fatigue of the previous day still lingering faintly in his limbs.

Moving into the quiet stillness of the living room, he sat cross-legged on the floor and summoned the thin, leather-bound book Ji Hong had given him.

Placing it before him, he took a deep breath and extended his spiritual sense toward it.

The faint inscriptions on the book pulsed in response, and as his mind focused, the text shimmered softly—its words lifting from the parchment and flowing like light into his consciousness.

Line by line, the knowledge imprinted itself in his memory: meditative techniques, inner balance, control methods, and warnings about the dangers of corruption.

Exhaling slowly, Li Yan began to digest the wisdom he had absorbed. Now came the true test: putting theory into practice.

He slowed his breathing and turned his awareness inward. Within his lower dantian, a dark, blood-colored mist coiled tightly around his Qi Core, its presence oppressive and heavy.

Channeling his Qi toward it, he tried to restrain the aura with calm intent, forming a mental construct of serenity to cage the violent energy—just as the book had instructed.

The book’s words echoed within his thoughts: ”Control through clarity. Command through calm.”

But no matter how carefully he regulated his Qi, the bloody mist refused to yield. Its chaotic nature twisted and thrashed, rejecting his control.

A thought flashed through his mind. ”If it’s wrapped around my Qi Core… then it might also exist at my Soul Core.”

Without hesitation, Li Yan shifted his awareness inward. The world around him faded away as his consciousness descended into his spiritual sea—a vast, tranquil ocean of blue.

Yet today, its serenity was marred. Crimson mist spread across the waters, staining the horizon like blood in clear water. The very air seemed to pulse with silent, suffocating pressure.

Li Yan stood calmly at the center of his spiritual sea, eyes fixed on the invading fog. ”So Elder Ji was right,” he murmured. ”If left unchecked, it spreads and infects the soul. This aura doesn’t just linger—it seeks to root itself.”

The mist stirred in response, curling closer like a predator sensing prey.

Li Yan lowered himself into a seated posture within his spiritual sea. His expression hardened into calm resolve. He recalled the book’s approaches: erase, suppression, or domination. One sought to erase it away, another to seal the aura with meditation and use it when needed; the last—to make it obey.

”Erasing it would be easy,” he thought, ”but meaningless. Sealing it would be dangerous, like a time bomb that can explode at any time, if I lose my temper.”

”So, I must make it submit.”

His breathing slowed. His mind sharpened. He visualized a cage woven from tranquil blue energy—his will fused with his clarity.

The construct shimmered as it formed, elegant yet unyielding. It pulsed once, then drew the crimson fog inward.

The bloody mist resisted violently, thrashing like a trapped beast. A cold, cutting pressure pushed back, trying to pierce his mind. Li Yan steadied himself, anchoring his thoughts and voice in the void from whispering chaos and bloodlust.

Li Yan gritted his teeth. ”Focus,” he muttered, voice low and steady. ”Calm is strength.”

Minute by minute, he tightened the cage further, compressing the mist within. Each motion tested his endurance, each breath demanded perfect focus. Time lost meaning. His spiritual sea trembled, his consciousness strained—but his will did not waver.

Then, faintly, a hum began to ripple through his spiritual sea—his Qi resonating with his intent. The cage grew brighter, its edges tightening until the crimson storm was forced inward.

And then—silence.

After what felt like an eternity, the Killing Aura collapsed, condensed into a single orb of glowing red light.

It pulsed faintly within the cage, dangerous yet contained. The Killing Aura had not been destroyed. It had been conquered.

Li Yan opened his eyes slowly. His breathing steadied, his expression calm. ”It’s still dangerous,” he murmured, ”but now it’s mine to wield.”

Returning to the real world, he found himself drenched in sweat, and over three hours had passed. Yet instead of rising, he focused inward again—toward his Qi Core.

What he saw made him pause.

There, a new phenomenon awaited him.

A faintly glowing red orb orbited his Qi Core—not horizontally, like the seven Qi nodes, but vertically, forming a perpendicular line as if to declare its own identity.

Its bloody glow and cold aura contrasted starkly with the gentle radiance of his other orbs, like a blade gleaming among silk threads.

”It’s… manifested in my body as well?” he murmured, brow furrowing. ”It’s not mentioned in the book.”

Despite the surprise, a faint smile tugged at his lips. ”Perhaps few had the will to choose this path, because it was the most difficult way mentioned in this book.”

”And not everyone has Soul Core like me to make this way easy.”

The orb’s energy pulsed in rhythm with his Qi, wild yet responsive. A balance had formed—unstable but promising.

After stabilizing his breath, Li Yan rose to his feet, calm but resolute.

Without hesitation, he turned toward the bedroom, his intent sharp. ”Time to return to the Hunting Ground,” he said quietly.

After a quick bath and cleaning his sweat-drenched clothes with Qi, he put them back on.

Li Yan stepped out of his room, greeted by the crisp mountain air. The morning sun had already climbed high, casting golden light across the sect’s stone paths and training grounds.

Around him, the sect was already alive with energy—disciples bustling through the courtyards, weapons strapped to their backs, their laughter and chatter blending into the gentle hum of daily routine.

Some headed toward the hunting grounds, others clustered near food stalls, enjoying breakfast. Li Yan joined them briefly and purchased a simple yet hearty meal.

As he ate, his eyes wandered across the lively scene—disciples trading jokes, the aroma of fresh buns filling the air. A faint smile tugged at his lips. Moments like these carried a strange peace—fleeting yet grounding.

Once finished, he turned his attention back to his task. He secured enough Tier-3 food—enough supplies to last him several days in the hunting grounds.

With preparations complete, he made his way toward the teleportation portal. But when he was going to step into the teleportation portal.

He paused. ”Wait… pills.”

A flicker of realization crossed his face. He muttered, ”I should buy a few before heading out, to avoid unnecessary risk.”

Changing direction, Li Yan moved swiftly through the sect grounds until the towering peaks. The air grew heavier with energy as he neared the third-tallest mountain—the one where the Alchemy Hall resides.

The closer he came, the stronger the faint herbal fragrance grew. The path was lined with carefully tended herbs and medical plants, their energy subtly harmonizing with the surroundings.

The grand archway at the entrance was etched with luminous runes—depictions of fire, herbs, and pill cauldrons—each pulsing faintly, a quiet reminder of the hall’s prestige.

Crossing the threshold, Li Yan stepped into a vast, brightly lit interior. The polished marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of floating orbs suspended overhead.

The mingled scents of countless herbs drifted through the space—rich, complex, and calming.

To the left, a counter was placed where a black-robed disciple worked efficiently, handling requests from a small queue.

Beyond him, more than twenty wooden doors, each marked for a specific purpose—storage, refining, testing, or study. There was a spiraling staircase winding upward to the restricted upper floors.

Disciples in azure, brown, and purple robes moved through the Alchemy Hall, each absorbed in their tasks. Some carried pill bottles, herbs, and scrolls; others discussed recipes in hushed tones.