Infinite Fire Record

Chapter 17: One of Guo Jing’s arms is crippled

A touch of red appeared in the desolate land. The red was bright, the red was cold.

Imperial Sky wiped away the bloodstain at the corner of his mouth, a cold smile lingering on his lips.

Guo Jing’s face was flushed, his right arm hanging limp as if it had lost all feeling. His eyes widened in shock, his left hand clenching tightly as he stared at Imperial Sky with killing intent.

Imperial Sky’s gaze remained icy. A cold smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he spoke. “Hmph…! All these years, I have tolerated you for far too long. Now, scrapping one of your arms is merely interest. In the future, you will repay everything in full.

Remember, Guo Jing, you are nothing but a parasite in my eyes. In the beginning, you relied on your mother to learn the Eighteen Palms of the Descending Dragon. You relied on her to obtain the Nine Yin Sutra. Everything you have was given to you by her. And now, standing here so dignified and imposing—do you not feel disgusted with yourself?”

Guo Jing’s eyes widened further, his hateful glare stabbing straight at Imperial Sky. His face burned—not just with anger, but with shame.

“Rebellious son! If I had known back then, I would never have left you in this world!” Guo Jing roared.

Imperial Sky lowered his hands, his expression unreadable, his cold face betraying not even a flicker of emotion. With a sweep of his sleeve, he sneered, “Hmph…! Do not pretend to be some righteous avenger. You cannot even circulate your power now. Your realm is only at the peak of Houtian.

Even if you have practiced the Nine Yin True Sutra and the Eighteen Palms of the Descending Dragon, you are merely at the peak of Houtian. My palm technique—fused with both cold and heat—flows naturally.

Now, this fusion of cold and heat has shattered the meridians in your right arm. It is fair to say that half of your Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms has been abolished. Is it painful? This is only the beginning.”

The words were cold, the man was cold, and his heart was even colder.

At that moment, Huang Rong stood beside Imperial Sky, her beautiful eyes filled with shock as she covered her mouth.

Guo Jing raised his left hand and struck out, intending to teach Imperial Sky a lesson. The movement sent a surge of anger and urgency through Huang Rong. She rushed toward Imperial Sky, but what happened next shocked her even more.

Guo Jing’s strike contained no internal force—only raw physical strength.

It was precisely because of this that Imperial Sky, fully prepared, used the unique properties of the ‘Bone Spirit Cold Fire’ to destroy Guo Jing’s arm. The Bone Spirit Cold Fire was an external flame, and though it had lost some of its destructive power, it was still beyond what a mere mortal like Guo Jing could withstand.

That he had lost only one arm was already considered fortunate.

Guo Jing was furious, his eyes filled with killing intent as if he wanted to rip Imperial Sky apart. But Imperial Sky merely smirked, his gaze filled with contempt.

Guo Jing’s face darkened. He raised his left hand, mobilizing his power to form a massive palm.

“Ang…!”

A faint dragon’s roar echoed as a gust of wind surged. A long dragon materialized in the air—though only in form. This was none other than the Eighteen Palms of the Descending Dragon. However, Guo Jing’s strength had been severely depleted; most of his energy had gone toward resisting Imperial Sky’s previous attack. What remained barely sufficed to launch this palm strike.

Its power was feeble. If Imperial Sky had been in full condition, he could have crushed it with a mere flick of his hand. However, due to expending energy to wield the foreign flame, he had no power left to spare.

Even so, he stood his ground, unmoving, his cold gaze fixed on Guo Jing with nothing but disdain.

This attack—born of anger—was ultimately a display of arrogance.

Huang Rong would not stand by and watch. And more than that, neither would the man lurking in the shadows.

At that moment, Huang Rong stepped forward, her bamboo stick appearing in her right hand.

A sharp sound of breaking air rang out.

A small black dot shot forward like a piercing sword, striking straight at the dragon-shaped energy.

“Pfft…!”

The dragon-shaped energy shattered instantly.

A faint smile surfaced on the face of a white-haired, silver-bearded man clad in green robes. Though aged, he did not appear old.

Eastern Heretic Huang Yaoshi.

Huang Yaoshi stepped forward with ethereal grace, stopping beside Imperial Sky. A sly smile played on his lips as he let out a hearty laugh. “Good. Worthy of being my grandson. Not only are your hands ruthless, but your mind is also extraordinary at such a young age.”

Huang Yaoshi was Huang Yaoshi. Anyone else might have chastised Imperial Sky, calling him unfaithful and unfilial. But in Huang Yaoshi’s eyes, this was nothing more than a natural course of events.

At that moment, a trace of joy flickered in Huang Rong’s sorrowful gaze. She hurried forward. “Father!”

That single word carried bitterness and pain.

Guo Jing’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. He forced out the words, “Lord Father-in-law.”

Ke Zhen’e, who had earlier held a smug expression, now looked bitter and despondent.

Huang Yaoshi’s sharp gaze bore into Guo Jing. His lips curled with disdain as he snapped, “Do not call me father-in-law. Tian’er is right. You are nothing more than a parasite. For years, I have regretted not standing my ground from the beginning. But now, it is too late. Rong’er has already married you. Even so, it is not too late to mend this mistake. From this day forth, Guo Jing, you are no longer my son-in-law.”

“Pfft…!”

Guo Jing coughed up a mouthful of blood, spraying it several feet. His face twisted in shock and disbelief.

Huang Rong’s teary eyes turned toward Huang Yaoshi, her voice trembling. “Father…!”

“Hmph!” Huang Yaoshi snorted. His voice was cold. “Rong’er, as Tian’er said, this Guo Jing is nothing but a parasite. He relied on you to learn the Eighteen Palms of the Descending Dragon. He stayed on Peach Blossom Island and obtained the Nine Yin True Sutra because of you.

Without you, Guo Jing would be nothing. And now, a crippled man still dares to put on airs? My Peach Blossom Island has suffered because of him! My daughter has suffered because of him! Even my grandchildren—because of Guo Jing—are in this miserable state. Tell me, what use do I have for him?”

With those words, his anger surged. Huang Yaoshi lifted his hand.

Thousands of peach blossoms bloomed at once—pink, red, white, and every shade between. The illusion of a vast sea of flowers surrounded them.

This was the Falling Divine Sword Palm.

Illusion and reality intertwined as countless petals turned into a storm, sweeping toward Guo Jing.

Weakened, and heavily injured, he could not defend himself.

“Pfft…!”

Guo Jing was flung backward by the force of the blossoms, blood spraying from his mouth. He lay in the distance, unmoving—like a dead man.

Huang Yaoshi had not killed him. He had merely vented his fury.