To show their determination, Rong Lua and Song Po did not hesitate. Each time their heads slammed into the ground, boom—a violent shockwave rippled out, spiderweb cracks tearing through the earth in all directions. Any ordinary Qi Refining cultivator standing nearby would have died instantly from the sheer force of it.

Dust rose in trembling sheets. Stones skittered across the shattered ground.

Wang Chen remained unmoved.

His expression didn't shift even a fraction. His gaze stayed indifferent, bored even, the kind of look that made one's soul feel naked under heaven's scrutiny.

He could tell both men were simply putting on a show. A loud, dramatic one—but still a show.

Especially Rong Lua.

That guy's shamelessness was truly unmatched.

Another breath of silence passed. The cracking of soil and the muffled thud of kowtowing continued, until finally Rong Lua's face drained completely of color. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Each time he dared look up, he saw Wang Chen's calm yet unreadable gaze staring straight through him.

A chill crawled down his spine.

Getting out of this situation… was clearly going to be very difficult.

Rong Lua hesitated—long enough to gather every scrap of courage he had left. Then, gritting his teeth, he made a decision.

"I, Rong Lua, have committed a great sin," he declared, voice trembling yet resolute. "To ensure I never repeat such a mistake ever again…"

His sleeve flicked open as he summoned another sword—this one engraved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with primordial light. Guided by his divine sense, the blade drew a flawless crescent through the air.

Shiiing—

A flower of crimson blood blossomed.

A heartbeat later, his arm fell to the ground with a dull thud, severed cleanly from the shoulder. Blood mist shimmered in the dim light, scattered across the fractured earth like falling petals.

The abruptness and decisiveness of the act froze the entire lakeside.

Even Wang Chen was momentarily stunned.

His lips twitched.

He had been contemplating the various ways to discipline Rong Lua—intimidation, humiliation, maybe a small beating to remind him of his place—but cutting off his own arm?

That had definitely not been on the list.

For once, Wang Chen felt as if the universe had gotten ahead of him.

Even the blind Zhao Yunfei seemed shaken, her covered eyes trembling ever so slightly as though she could feel the brutal decisiveness burning across Rong Lua's face.

But the one shaken the most… was Song Po.

For him, the meaning behind Rong Lua's action was far heavier than a severed arm.

If a proud envoy of the Ten Thousand Sword Sect could sacrifice a limb to show repentance…

Shouldn't he—whose grudge with Wang Chen ran far deeper—do the same?

His heart thrashed like a trapped beast.

Cold sweat leaked down his spine.

The stares around him felt like mountains pressing onto his skull.

A Nascent Soul expert like Rong Lua could regrow an arm easily. A few years of cultivation lost, and the matter would be settled.

But he…

He was only Golden Core.

Losing an arm was losing a decade of strength, maybe more. It could cripple his future for life.

Yet the alternative—Wang Chen's displeasure—was a fate far worse.

His mind spun with frantic calculations until finally, a single, brutal answer surfaced.

Follow Rong Lua.

Or die.

Song Po clenched his jaw, face turning a shade whiter than bone. And then, before hesitation could weaken him, his left hand gripped his right shoulder—

—and tore.

A wet, sickening rip resounded across the lakeside.

Golden Core vitality splattered across the ground in steaming arcs.

His severed arm tumbled lifelessly beside Rong Lua's.

Silence descended.

Even the air seemed to flinch.

Wang Chen, who still hadn't finished processing Rong Lua's impulsive self-mutilation, froze completely when Song Po ripped off his own arm too.

He stared at the two armless men, both kneeling, both bleeding, both trembling…

His lips twitched so hard it looked like a spasm.

Internally, he was screaming:

Brothers… what in the world? Are you two masochists? Why are you doing this to yourselves?

But externally, Wang Chen only inhaled deeply and nodded with the dignified calm of a senior expert.

A slight, satisfied expression touched his face.

Song Po saw that look. Relief flooded him so hard his knees nearly gave out. Losing an arm—perhaps it truly had been worth it.

"Senior, this junior takes his leave," he said quickly, voice trembling with a mixture of fear and gratitude.

Without wasting another breath, Song Po fled the scene, blood trailing behind him like a crimson signature.

Rong Lua, however, did not move.

He remained where he was—head bowed, arm gone, body trembling.

A silent reminder to everyone present:

He was no longer an envoy of the Ten Thousand Sword Sect.

He was Wang Chen's slave.

Wang Chen didn't spare Rong Lua another glance. The man could kneel there armless for all eternity; it didn't concern him. Instead, he let his gaze drift back to the only people he truly cared about.

A faint, warm smile curved his lips.

"Little Li Mei, do you need my help in finding this treasure?"

Master's help…

Li Mei's heart stirred. Coming from anyone else, it would've been meaningless. But coming from Wang Chen—whose strength already felt like it had surpassed the heavens—his help would make finding the Nine-Petaled Soul Calming Flame no different from plucking fruit from a garden.

Yet, after a heartbeat of longing, she lowered her head slightly.

"Master, you have already done more than enough for us. Let me take care of my matters from here."

Her voice trembled subtly, but her eyes held quiet determination.

Beside her, Lin Huang said nothing—but the firmness in his gaze echoed the same sentiment. Depending too much on their master would shackle them forever. They couldn't grow beneath his shadow if they never stepped out of it.

Wang Chen understood.

He didn't argue.

With their roles set, Li Mei and Lin Huang began the painstaking search.

They stepped onto the lake, qi barriers curling beneath their feet like soft ripples of moonlight. One by one, Li Mei scattered the fire-attributed candies she had refined—each piece glowing faintly, radiating delicate wisps of flame qi.

The candies drifted across the lake like tiny red lotuses.

A soft rise and fall accompanied each wave, turning the lake surface into a slow-moving field of ember petals.

Hours passed.

The sky dimmed into hues of orange.

The lake glowed with warm reflections, creating a scene that looked almost sacred.

Through it all, Wang Chen stood silently at the bank, hands clasped behind him. He watched his disciples work with the quiet patience of an old mountain. He didn't hover, didn't correct, didn't offer help. His role here was simply to guard.

Rong Lua knelt a respectful distance away, head bowed so low it nearly touched the earth. He didn't dare make a sound.

And Zhao Yunfei…

The girl stood alone at the back, blindfold fluttering in the breeze. Her expression was dazed, unfocused, as if her mind drifted somewhere far beyond this lakeshore.

The faintest tremor lingered in her fingers.

Something was stirring in her fate again.

But for now, the world remained quiet—only the rhythmic lap of water and the drifting glow of flame-candies filling the air with an eerie, fragile calm.

Just like that, the hours slipped away and morning returned.

A cool breeze drifted across the lake, carrying the scent of dew and faint trails of incense left from Li Mei's constant refining. The mist hanging over the water glimmered softly, turning the vast surface of Silverlake into a mirror of shifting silver and pale blue.

Li Mei hovered just above the rippling expanse, qi spreading beneath her feet like a delicate lotus platform. Her All-Seeing Eyes rotated slowly, cross-shaped pupils tightening and dilating in a steady rhythm as she scanned every inch of the depths.

On the lakeshore, Lin Huang stood tall and silent, sword-shaped brows lifted slightly in anticipation. Beside him, Wang Chen looked as if he had been carved from stone—calm, composed, yet ready to act the instant something stirred.

Time passed.

The sun climbed, its reflection casting a long golden path across the water.

And then—

Gwoom—!

The entire lake heaved as if some ancient beast had awakened from centuries of sleep. Waves rose and crashed, the floating flame-candies bobbing wildly like frightened spirits. Each fiery lotus trembled, spinning rapidly in circles as though calling out in distress.

A moment later, a voice—soft, childish, and strangely muffled—echoed from beneath the surface.

"Such tasty food… me want it!"

The tone was simple, broken, like a toddler trying to string together thoughts for the very first time. Yet the pressure beneath those innocent words made Li Mei's spine straighten.

Her eyes snapped open fully.

The All-Seeing Eyes flared.

Like blades, her gaze cut through layer after layer of water until it locked onto a single point deep within the lakebed—where a brilliant orb of blue flame burned with a purity unmatched by anything she had ever encountered.

The Nine-Petaled Soul Calming Divine Flame.

Alive.

Awakened.

And hungry.

The fiery sphere pulsed once—like a heartbeat—and the entire lake vibrated in response.

Li Mei whispered, breath trembling with excitement and reverence, "Found you…"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.