Infinite Fire Record

Chapter 35: Qiu Shiqi

Outside the ancient tomb, the air was cold and bleak. The land beneath them had been watered with the flesh and blood of nearly a hundred souls, yet silence remained, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

Imperial Sky leaped forward, holding Little Dragon Girl in his arms, his toes barely touching the slender branches of a weeping willow. His gaze was sharp, his silver pupils reflecting a piercing coldness. A faint smile curled his lips, but within it lay an endless killing intent.

From above, he observed the figures below—hundreds of men clad in Daoist robes, each carrying an air of murderous intent.

With a long sigh, his voice rang out, laced with ice, “Why is it that time and again, you insist on testing my patience? Do you not understand that under my hand, I leave no survivors? You rush toward death so furiously—it truly is both pitiful and pathetic.”

His voice echoed like rolling thunder, the force rippling through the air. Only then did the people below notice the two figures standing amidst the ruins—a man and a woman. The woman, dressed in flowing white, outshone the beauties of legend. The man, with his silver hair and eyes, seemed as though he had stepped out of myth itself.

Together, they stood, otherworldly, like an immortal couple shrouded in mist.

Qiu Shiqi’s eyes burned with hatred as he glared at them. He roared, “The Ancient Tomb Sect has committed such slaughter! Even if the Quanzhen Sect was tied to you, I cannot allow this to stand. Today, I shall end you and erase your sect from existence!”

His voice was resolute, his confidence unwavering.

Imperial Sky let out a cold chuckle, plucking a willow leaf between his fingers.

Little Dragon Girl, nestled in his arms, furrowed her brows. Her icy gaze fell upon Qiu Shiqi. “Imperial Sky, I hate this man.”

His silver hair fluttered as he flicked his wrist.

On the sidelines, Zhao Zhijing trembled and stammered, “Master Qiu… Grandmaster Uncle once said that this man wields the ‘Finger Snapping Avatar’ technique.”

The moment the words fell, Qiu Shiqi’s grip on his sword tightened.

Unbeknownst to him, the willow leaf had already been imbued with boundless energy, transforming into a razor-sharp arrow as it tore through the air toward him.

Qiu Shiqi, the strongest among the Seven Sons of Quanzhen, reacted instantly. With a swift movement, he struck out with his sword, his voice booming, “Raise the sail and lift the anchor!”

The Quanzhen Sword Technique has been passed down through generations. Though it was not a supreme martial art, its strength lay in accumulation—the longer one practiced, the more formidable it became.

Even in later years, the sect’s mastery had been acknowledged by great warriors such as Huang Yaoshi and Duan Huangye. Though they deemed it inferior to Wang Chongyang’s skills, its steady progression ensured it remained formidable even in the face of death.

Qiu Shiqi’s sword struck with immense force, the wind howling as it cut through the air. “Zhang Fan raises his huo!”

Boom!

His sword trembled, then shattered into fragments.

Qiu Shiqi’s expression twisted in horror. Relying on instinct, he executed an iron bridge stance to evade.

The willow leaf, carrying unstoppable force, struck with a deafening impact.

Boom!

A splash of crimson erupted—flesh and shattered bone scattered across the battlefield.

Qiu Shiqi’s face was splattered with blood. Fear, fury, and murderous intent twisted within him.

“Ah—!”

Behind him, one of his comrades clutched his chest, gazing at his fatal wound. He exhaled heavily. “Senior Brother Qiu… leave now. This man is too strong… we cannot match him. Go to Xiangyang… seek Guo Jing… let him deal with this. And… find Master Zhou… to protect our sect…”

With that, his body slumped lifelessly to the ground.

Qiu Shiqi clutched the corpse, his voice raw as he howled toward the heavens, “Master Wang… Master…!”

Wang Chuyi—Jade Yangzi, a disciple of Wang Chongyang—had fought alongside the sect’s elders. Just yesterday, Hao Datong and Ma Yu had perished. Now, Wang Chuyi had joined them in death.

Qiu Shiqi clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his broken sword. Hatred blazed in his scarlet eyes as he fixed his gaze upon Imperial Sky.

Imperial Sky merely smiled. His fingers trailed through Little Dragon Girl’s hair as he murmured, “A fine man, yet to me, enemies exist only in two states—the dead and the soon-to-be-dead. Wang Chuyi is already gone. Now, it is your turn.”

A suffocating killing intent spread across the field, pressing upon the hearts of the survivors like an unyielding mountain.

With a flick of his hand, a branch from the willow tree snapped off, landing gracefully in his palm.

Imperial Sky began to descend, drifting like a celestial being untouched by mortal affairs.

Qiu Shiqi’s voice roared once more, “Retreat! Preserve the Quanzhen Sect’s legacy! Head to Xiangyang and seek Guo Jing for justice!”

An elderly woman grabbed his arm, her voice trembling. “Senior Brother Qiu, as the highest-ranking disciple now, you must not waste your life! You must safeguard the sect’s future!”

Tears streaked her face as she brandished her sword, unleashing a powerful palm strike. “Senior Brother Qiu, go—now!”

Sun Buer, the only female among the Seven Sons of Quanzhen, stood firm. In her hand was the sect’s treasured sword, personally passed down by Wang Chongyang himself.

With unwavering resolve, she charged forward, blade flashing.

The legendary sword cut through the air, swift and deadly.

Clang!

Yet, the moment it clashed against Imperial Sky’s willow branch, the sound was like steel against steel.

Sun Buer’s eyes widened in shock. The blade—renowned for its sharpness—failed to even scratch the branch in his grasp.

A surge of force erupted.

Boom!

Sun Buer let out a miserable scream.

Her sword hand, crushed beyond recognition, revealed white bone through mangled flesh. The treasured blade flew from her grasp.

Though the sword remained unbroken, Sun Buer’s hand had not been spared from Imperial Sky’s overwhelming power.