She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar

◎"My Crow's Cry Flame?" "No, it's my Crow's Cry Flame."◎

Time flies like a fleeting white steed, slipping away unnoticed.

Through the collective efforts of numerous artifact refiners, the once-majestic sealing wall, stretching over a hundred miles, gradually thinned day by day until only the last few dozen miles remained.

At the current pace, with everyone working together to dismantle it for another half-month, the sealing wall would finally be broken. And the split flame of the Crow's Cry Flame would reveal its true form!

This news acted like a powerful stimulant.

All the refiners present felt a renewed vigor, pushing themselves harder than ever before.

Even the revered masters of Hongtong Palace, who had previously remained aloof and only appeared for critical matters, now actively joined the effort to dismantle the sealing wall.

With such esteemed figures overseeing the work, efficiency doubled.

Every day when Yan Luoyue arrived at the sealing wall, she was inundated with conversations about the Crow's Cry Flame.

"Just under half a month left, and we’ll have the honor of witnessing a legendary divine artifact. I’ve been so excited these past few days I can’t even close my eyes."

"Who wouldn’t be? Look at the disciples of Hongtong Palace—they’ve been walking around with such swagger lately."

"So, have the four great factions already decided who gets the Crow’s Cry Flame?"

"It’ll probably go to Hongtong Palace. I wonder what they promised the Guiyuan Sect, Fan Yin Temple, and Snow Domain in exchange."

The fervor in the air was almost palpable, as if the collective anticipation could scorch the atmosphere itself.

Yet, amidst this wave of collective excitement, Yan Luoyue couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling.

Perhaps it was the instinctive caution of her turtle lineage, or maybe just her intuition.

But she couldn’t help thinking… everything seemed too smooth.

Logically, reaping the rewards after a year of hard work should be a joyous occasion.

Hongtong Palace would obtain the split flame of the Crow’s Cry Flame, while the refiners outside the palace would claim the materials—a mutually beneficial outcome.

But it was like riding a speeding sports car: while the passengers reveled in the rush of wind and adrenaline, there was always that nagging worry—

What if the car flipped midway? Or ran out of fuel before reaching the finish line?

Adding weight to Yan Luoyue’s concerns was Ji Qinghong’s warning.

That morning, after concluding his lesson, Ji Qinghong casually remarked to Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang:

"I’m giving you a few days off. Go wherever you like."

Yan Luoyue blinked. "Master, does this mean…? The Crow’s Cry Flame’s split flame is about to emerge, isn’t it?"

Ji Qinghong smiled, utterly unreadable, as if all the implications Yan Luoyue had sensed were mere figments of her imagination.

"Indeed. So when I say you’re free to go, it means you can continue dismantling the seal—or do whatever you please."

"……"

After studying Ji Qinghong’s expression for a while, Yan Luoyue decided to prepare for both possibilities.

First, she warned Ling Shuanghun to stay indoors for the next few days.

Yan Luoyue had a hunch that beneath Ji Qinghong’s usual calm demeanor, a storm might be brewing.

She and Wu Manshuang had Ji Qinghong’s protection, but Ling Shuanghun was different.

Second, she still resolved to go with Wu Manshuang to witness the event—albeit from a safe distance, to avoid getting splattered with blood.

The next day, Ji Qinghong noticed his two disciples had indeed shown up—but wisely positioned themselves in the farthest corner possible.

Lowering his crimson eyes, he let out a soft chuckle but said nothing.

Beside Ji Qinghong stood Master Canhe from Fan Yin Temple and Master Song from the Snow Domain.

The three of them observed from the sidelines, watching as the crowd worked feverishly.

The three refining masters of Hongtong Palace led the charge, each stationed at the most challenging sections of the seal, pushing toward the center.

Master Canhe half-closed his eyes, his prayer beads clicking rhythmically.

"Amitabha… Hongtong Palace is in such a hurry. Could it be true, as the rumors say, that their existing split flame of the Crow’s Cry Flame is on the verge of extinguishing?"

Ji Qinghong’s lips curled in a faint sneer. "That flame has lasted three thousand years. Day and night, refining artifacts and elixirs, fueling Hongtong Palace’s golden age—it’s had a good run."

His tone dripped with undisguised disdain when he mentioned "Hongtong Palace."

But considering that three thousand years ago, Ji Qinghong had personally fought in the Demon-Subduing War…

It was said that due to Hongtong Palace’s delayed reinforcements, Ji Qinghong’s entire squad had been wiped out, leaving him the sole survivor.

Given that, his attitude was hardly surprising.

More importantly, the very reinforcements that arrived late back then were the ones who discovered Hongtong Palace’s current split flame.

There were even whispers that they had deliberately held back, allowing the Guiyuan Sect’s forces to perish, just to monopolize the Crow’s Cry Flame.

After the Demon-Subduing War, both the human and demon realms were left in ruins.

The Guiyuan Sect, once the undisputed pinnacle of the cultivation world, had suffered catastrophic losses.

Three thousand years ago, six out of ten Guiyuan Sect disciples were sword cultivators.

But in the war, nearly all of them perished.

Master Canhe still remembered the grandeur of Guiyuan Sect’s "Towering Sword Pavilion" in its heyday.

Now, that once-imposing peak was nothing but a mountain of broken swords.

Every fallen sword cultivator’s blade had been embedded into the cliffs.

The entire mountain was a graveyard of steel—three steps a sword, five steps a monument.

The once-fearsome sword pavilion had become a colossal mausoleum.

Dealt such a devastating blow, Guiyuan Sect’s sword path never recovered.

Even now, three thousand years later, their sword cultivators numbered less than one in ten, and their legacy remained unfulfilled.

Meanwhile, Hongtong Palace—a second-rate sect back then—had seized the opportunity to rise.

With the Crow’s Cry Flame in hand, they cultivated a generation of master refiners.

Those refiners amassed fortunes, and those fortunes paved Hongtong Palace’s path to supremacy.

In just three millennia, Hongtong Palace had not only become the crowned ruler of the southern cultivation world but also positioned itself as the leader among the four great factions.

Recalling this, Master Canhe’s prayer beads clicked faster.

—In terms of contributions to the Demon-Subduing War, no one surpassed the Guiyuan Sect.

But when peace came, hierarchy was determined not by past sacrifices, but by raw, unvarnished power.

The Guiyuan Sect, having exhausted all its resources, fell from its throne, while the Hongtong Palace seized the moment to claim victory.

In the face of a great calamity, humans and demons could still transcend the barriers of their races, fighting side by side and enduring hardships together. Yet once the Demon Subjugation War ended, humanity turned inward, dividing themselves into hierarchies, unable to share rewards or joys equally.

If Master Canhe were to comment, even with the detached wisdom of a monastic, she would still find it all a bitter irony.

Master Song of the Snowy Peaks pressed a handkerchief to his mouth, suppressing a fit of violent coughs. His sallow, gaunt face already made him resemble a consumptive ghost, and the coughing only deepened the likeness. His voice emerged hoarse and strained as he asked,

"The masters of Hongtong Palace are all at the front, breaking the seal. Why haven’t you two gone to lend a hand?"

Ji Qinghong smiled faintly and turned his gaze to Master Canhe, passing the question to the monastic.

Master Canhe sighed. "Amitabha. As a monastic, this humble nun prefers not to meddle in worldly affairs."

She had hardly abstained from the "worldly affairs" of the Thousand Refinements Assembly. What she avoided now was the "mundane matter" of obtaining the Crying Crow Flame.

Hearing her answer, Master Song also drawled, "As a sickly ghost, I’d rather not impose on Hongtong Palace’s moment of triumph."

As for Ji Qinghong…

Master Song chuckled. "Truthfully, I’m already surprised Brother Ji even came today."

"Hmm." Ji Qinghong’s smile was enigmatic, his ruby-like eyes flickering with an elusive light.

"Because… I wanted to see clearly the expressions on everyone’s faces when something interesting happened."

After these words, the three exchanged glances.

Master Song lowered his voice. "Brother Ji, surely you don’t mean…"

Ji Qinghong raised a finger to his lips, softly shushing him.

"……"

For a moment, Master Song and Master Canhe’s expressions turned peculiar.

Master Song pensively looked into the distance, his eyes briefly skimming over the seal wall. Now, only a thin layer remained, soon to dissolve entirely.

Apart from the Hongtong Palace masters, all other refiners had been pushed aside, forbidden from approaching the seal wall. At most, they could only peek past the red cordon set up by Hongtong disciples.

By all logic, this should have been a moment to stir the hearts of refiners across the land.

Yet Master Song felt nothing.

Days earlier, he had inspected the seal under the wary eyes of Hongtong Palace’s masters.

Neither his experience as a refining master nor the feedback from his spiritual senses suggested the Crying Crow Flame lay behind the seal.

At first, Master Song had been curious.

This time, Hongtong Palace had grandly convened the Thousand Refinements Assembly in the name of the Crying Crow Flame.

If they ended up empty-handed, how would they face the world?

But now, he realized—Ji Qinghong might never have intended to let them save face.

Such an audacious prank was entirely in keeping with Ji Qinghong’s character.

Master Canhe’s fingers stilled on her prayer beads. "How did Benefactor Ji…"

How had he guessed from the start that the seal might hide no flame?

"I didn’t know."

A slow, pleased smile curled at Ji Qinghong’s lips.

"The Crying Crow Flame is useless to me. Whoever obtains it makes no difference. But during the Demon Subjugation War, I once caught a glimpse of this secret realm’s master…"

"I felt an unspoken kinship with him. I doubted he’d do something as dull as ‘painstakingly open a chest only to find a treasure inside as reward for his efforts.’"

Hearing this, Master Canhe and Master Song exchanged baffled looks.

Almost the moment Ji Qinghong finished speaking, a furious roar erupted from the Hongtong Palace masters before the seal wall.

"Ah—!!!"

The last fragment of the seal crumbled away, yet the legendary Crying Crow Flame was nowhere to be found.

No matter their rage or denial, Hongtong Palace had to face the truth: a year of toil had yielded only empty air.

Behind the hundred-mile seal wall lay no Crying Crow Flame—the realm’s most valuable treasure had been the seal itself, already divided among the refiners.

Ji Qinghong watched with relish.

As promised, he savored every expression.

At this moment, his contentment resembled a rabbit savoring the freshest grass.

Over the past year, he had gained two disciples, the disciples had gained materials, and together, they had gained the most vivid lesson.

As co-organizers of the Thousand Refinements Assembly, Hongtong Palace might have suffered a crushing loss, but Ji Qinghong had certainly profited.

The three Hongtong masters soon grasped this.

In the next instant, they stormed toward Ji Qinghong, their movements like crackling thunderfire, appearing before him in a flash.

Simultaneously, Ji Qinghong made a tugging motion.

Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang felt a pull at their napes, yanking them away from the conflict. Heads bowed, they quickly melted into the crowd.

Yan Luoyue glanced around. The Hongtong disciples were ashen-faced, lips bloodless.

The other cultivators—including those from the remaining three major factions—wore expressions of avid curiosity.

"The Crying Crow Flame… didn’t appear?"

"Could the map have been fake?"

"The map might be forged, but this grand seal couldn’t be. If there’s truly no flame, the whole affair feels like a parody of ‘keeping the casket and discarding the pearls!’"

Someone’s remark struck home. The refiners quickly realized that without the "pearls," they had already scavenged and resold the "casket."

Exchanging glances, they—the ultimate beneficiaries—promptly fell silent.

Before Ji Qinghong, the three refining masters were nearly apoplectic.

The shortest among them, Master Chen, was so incensed his hair nearly stood on end.

"Ji Qinghong!"

Ji Qinghong smiled. "Master Chen, we’ve had no prior connection. There’s no need for such passionate recitation of my name in public."

Ancestor Niu restrained his junior brother, though his own eyes burned with fury.

"Fellow Daoist Ji," he said darkly, "this isn’t what you promised when we organized the Thousand Refinements Assembly."

Ji Qinghong arched a brow. "Oh? You wish to question me publicly now?"

"Yes!" Ancestor Niu declared. "Since this matter concerns the world, let it be settled before the world!"

Master Chen took out a map from his sleeve and held it up before Ji Qinghong. "Before the Thousand Refinements Assembly, you swore an oath to heaven and earth—"

"Mm." Ji Qinghong leisurely cut in. "I did say that the map in your hands now is a copy of the original left by the Fire Sage… What, do you want me to swear again?"

"No need!"

In a fit of rage, Master Chen flung his sleeve violently.

The map, which had been meticulously authenticated over a hundred times and treasured by the entire Hongtong Palace, was discarded without a second thought.

A sudden gust of wind swept it toward the distant crowd.

The refiners craned their necks to look, and Yan Luoyue couldn’t resist her curiosity either, casting a glance at the map.

—Just one glance, and her heart began to pound wildly!

Wait, she recognized this map!

Not the entire thing, but the upper half—it matched the pattern displayed when she first pieced together the two fragments in her possession!

Gulping, a bold suspicion rose in Yan Luoyue’s mind.

She had a premonition—the fragments she held were the real deal.

Given that the original map’s image changed every time it was reassembled, she had reason to believe the pattern also shifted whenever it was torn apart.

This copy was likely made when the original was split in two.

Later, the original was somehow divided into four, altering its pattern once more.

Thus, Niu Qidao failed to recognize the significance of the fragment and carelessly offered it as a tournament prize.

By sheer coincidence, three pieces had fallen into Yan Luoyue’s hands.

Nearby, Master Chen’s tone remained aggressive.

"In that case, Ji Qinghong, dare you swear an oath?"

Ji Qinghong studied him for a moment, amusement lacing his voice, as if humoring a petulant child.

"Didn’t you just say there was no need for me to swear?"

"You don’t need to prove that scrap is a copy—we admit the copy had errors!" Master Chen snapped. "But Ji Qinghong, dare you swear to heaven and earth that the true map isn’t in your possession?!"

"…"

The smile faded slowly from Ji Qinghong’s face. His ruby-red eyes narrowed. "What an impertinent request."

Ancestor Niu spoke coldly, "If you refuse to swear, then explain now—why were you so eager to push for this Thousand Refinements Assembly…?"

He enunciated each word deliberately. "Fellow Daoist Ji, this isn’t just an explanation for Hongtong Palace, but for the Fan Yin Temple, the Snow Domain, and all refiners under heaven!"

Master Song, standing nearby, erupted into another fit of coughing.

"Hold on. The copy was found by your sect. The assembly was organized by your sect. The Uproar Phoenix Flame was hoarded by your sect, lest anyone else lay hands on it."

"—Now that things haven’t gone your way, you’re pinning the blame on Fellow Daoist Ji. That’s hardly fair, is it?"

The tallest and most silent of Hongtong Palace’s three masters finally spoke.

"Master Song, are you saying the Guiyuan Sect stands with you?"

"Cough, cough… I…"

Just as tensions reached a breaking point, Ji Qinghong placed a hand on Master Song’s shoulder.

Even now, his tone was light.

"Logically, I have no reason to indulge your rudeness. Like a proper father, I shouldn’t soften at every tantrum thrown by brats."

"…But I’d very much like to see the expressions on your faces afterward."

His eyes curved as he cheerfully swore, "I vow that the true map is not in my possession. Should this be false, may I die on the spot."

"…"

The oath, beginning with "I," left no room for loopholes.

Even the lanky master from Hongtong Palace was taken aback, never expecting Ji Qinghong to swear so readily.

Master Chen stammered, "If that’s the case… why did you offer to authenticate our copy?"

Ji Qinghong sighed. "Because I’m charitable—isn’t that common knowledge?"

The crowd fell silent.

Master Canhe closed his eyes and murmured, whether in agreement or self-mockery, "Fellow Daoist Ji… is indeed generous."

Master Chen gaped. "But you… you haven’t left your home in a century! Why take such an active role in this assembly?"

Ji Qinghong gazed at him with the gentle pity one might reserve for a simpleton.

"Because I have disciples to teach. Two of them, in fact."

"Then you—then you—"

Master Chen and the other two from Hongtong Palace still felt something was deeply amiss.

—Truthfully, ever since Ji Qinghong began promoting this assembly, nothing had gone right!

Yet every clue slipped through their fingers like greased blades.

In hindsight, Hongtong Palace had noticed the oddities.

But too fearful of their dwindling flame’s demise and too desperate to secure a new Uproar Phoenix Flame, they had charged headlong into the trap like blindfolded donkeys.

Seeing no further questions, Ji Qinghong sighed regretfully, his voice still warm.

"It seems you’re out of queries… Now it’s my turn. Fellow Daoist Chen, who gave you the audacity to interrogate me like this?"

Before the words fully left his mouth, Master Chen’s face drained of color.

He let out a scream, more despairing than when he discovered the Uproar Phoenix Flame was gone. Beneath his feet, pale runes of a formation flickered ominously.

"Ji Qinghong! You dare?!"

The lanky master and Ancestor Niu lunged forward, only to be blocked by Ji Qinghong’s swift counterattacks.

In the blink of an eye, the formation beneath Master Chen yawned like a monstrous maw, dragging him into an abyss blacker than hell itself.

Everyone present knew Ji Qinghong’s fighting style.

Though not a swordsman, once he struck, he was swifter, colder, and deadlier than any blade.

So if marked as his enemy, hesitation meant death.

In desperation, Master Chen burned his lifeblood, preparing to shed his mortal shell and flee as a disembodied soul.

Simultaneously, flames erupted beneath him, intent on reducing his body to ash and severing Ji Qinghong’s pursuit.

As half of Master Chen’s form was already consumed, Ji Qinghong vanished—only to reappear mid-air, striking like lightning.

He held the escaping soul of Master Chen in his grasp, gently stuffing it back into the burning body.

"Oh dear, Fellow Daoist Chen, what are you doing?"

Ji Qinghong playfully fanned the flames on his leg. "I was just teasing you, and you rushed off in such a hurry. Wouldn’t that make me seem petty?"

Beneath Master Chen’s feet, the white formation vanished as if it had never existed.

To his left and right, Ancestor Niu and the lanky Master glared at Ji Qinghong, yet couldn’t even move their eyeballs.

They could only watch helplessly as Ji Qinghong slung an arm around Master Chen’s shoulders like a brother, patting him affectionately.

With each pat, the flames Master Chen had ignited on himself burned even brighter.

Ji Qinghong mused leisurely, "Next time we meet, Fellow Daoist Chen, you must keep this same attitude. I have no taboos—except that I dislike people being too polite with me. Your blunt honesty just now was quite to my liking."

Master Chen: "..."

How dare you say that? How dare you not let me go and put out these flames first?!

As if sensing his silent plea, Ji Qinghong finally released his grip on the man’s shoulder.

The next second, Master Chen, along with the other two freed from the formation, fled without a backward glance.

They left so decisively that they didn’t even spare a glance for the disciples and attendants present.

Watching the disgrace of Hongtong Palace, Master Song, who had earlier spoken up for Ji Qinghong, sighed.

"I thought Brother Ji wouldn’t resort to force."

Clearly, the three from Hongtong Palace had thought the same.

Previous accusations and blame could still be considered intense negotiations between two major sects.

But once Ji Qinghong took action—even if he didn’t kill anyone this time—it would be seen as outright hostility between the two sects.

Clashes among disciples and full-blown battles between Grandmasters carried entirely different implications.

Ji Qinghong said, "But I believe the time is ripe."

"..."

Hearing the ominous weight in those words, Master Song stifled a cough and gave him a wary look.

The atmosphere grew too heavy, so Master Canhe interjected.

She inquired, "Patron Ji mentioned earlier that you and the master of the secret realm share a mutual appreciation. If you were the one holding the Wailing Ember, where would you hide it?"

"Me?" Ji Qinghong smiled cheerfully. "If it were up to me, I’d hide it right under everyone’s noses."

...

With a flick of his sleeve, Ji Qinghong swept Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang away.

By the time their feet touched the ground again, they were back in their inn room.

Ji Qinghong stood in the common area with them, curiously picking up the labeled money jar before setting it back down.

"Master..."

"Hmm?"

Ji Qinghong’s expression was gentle, his tone amiable, making him seem utterly approachable.

There wasn’t a trace left of the man who, mere moments ago, had seized a soul and forced its owner to immolate himself.

Logically, matters of such high stakes shouldn’t concern a small demon like Yan Luoyue.

But since she was now Ji Qinghong’s disciple, she might as well take advantage of her position to gather information.

"What just happened... was it you personally clashing with Hongtong Palace, or the Guiyuan Sect breaking ties with them?"

Ji Qinghong replied nonchalantly, "There’s no difference."

Yan Luoyue pondered, then asked, "Why so sudden... or rather, so blatant?"

Honestly, even as Ji Qinghong’s disciple, she couldn’t help suspecting that—just as Hongtong Palace claimed—Ji Qinghong had set them up.

If even she thought so, what did that say about the rest of the world?

If this wasn’t Ji Qinghong’s personal decision but the Guiyuan Sect’s collective choice...

Then why didn’t the sect pick someone with a better reputation, someone more trusted by the public, to handle this?

She really had the nerve to ask. Ji Qinghong burst out laughing.

"Because this slap was meant for the world to see."

The dying ember in Hongtong Palace should have belonged to the Guiyuan Sect long ago, but Hongtong Palace had seized it by force.

From that moment on, the Wailing Ember’s fragment wasn’t just a shattered divine artifact—it was the slap Hongtong Palace had delivered to the Guiyuan Sect’s face after the Demon-Subduing War.

Now, using the same fragment, the Guiyuan Sect had orchestrated a scheme to make Hongtong Palace come up empty-handed.

It was an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

As for why Ji Qinghong was chosen for this task?

"First, no matter what I do, it’s always justified," Ji Qinghong said breezily.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

She glanced at her master and had to admit he was right.

Ji Qinghong was so outrageous that anything he did could be explained away as "whimsical."

Just like how Shen Jingxuan could always claim, "I just got lost," no matter where she appeared.

"Second, if I’m the one delivering this slap, it’ll be more satisfying."

Wu Manshuang: "...For whom?"

Ji Qinghong grinned. "For me and the sect."

The consensus was that instead of letting Ji Qinghong wreak havoc within the sect, it was better to unleash him on outsiders.

Ji Qinghong found this reasoning sound.

So before this trip, he’d taken on two more disciples.

That way, while he was out tormenting others, his disciples could stay behind and torment their own sect.

Thus, the cycle would continue, generation after generation.

Now, Yan Luoyue had only one question left.

"Master, is the real map really not in your hands?"

Despite Ji Qinghong’s public oath to the heavens, Yan Luoyue had an inexplicable faith in him.

Knowing him, he might not have the map itself—but he surely had clues about its whereabouts.

For instance, where the last missing fragment was.

Or whether he knew that the other three fragments were already in Yan Luoyue’s possession.

Hearing her question, Ji Qinghong rested his forehead on one hand, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"I was just wondering when you’d finally ask."

Yan Luoyue tensed. "...Master?"

He really knows about the three fragments?

Ji Qinghong gestured. "That Confiscation Notice I gave you—do you still have it?"

"I do."

As she answered, a slow realization dawned on her.

She retrieved the twice-unsealed blank paper, offering it to Ji Qinghong, but he nudged it back with a knuckle.

"This is a dual seal of artifact refinement and formations. You’ve already undone the refinement seal. Now, break the formation seal."

At this point, Ji Qinghong suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh, right. Given your skill level, you might not be able to solve it. Take it to Wu Manshuang and let him handle it."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

An unintentional jab cuts the deepest. Her formation skills... well, her formation skills were admittedly lacking.

Wu Manshuang took the blank sheet of paper and spent some time dismantling the formation.

As the last connecting point was severed, ancient, intricate lines suddenly appeared on the pristine paper.

Yan Luoyue watched in stunned silence as the invitation she had held onto for so long transformed into a very familiar fragmented map.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Ji Qinghong rested his chin on his hand, crimson eyes brimming with amusement. He observed the scene with delight and said gently,

"You see, the real map was never in my possession—it was always in yours."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

To be honest, her emotions at this moment were incredibly complicated.

She used to think Niu Qidao was rather dim-witted—how could he have missed a treasure map right under his nose and just handed it over like that?

But now, Yan Luoyue understood. It wasn’t a matter of intelligence, but capability.

Artifact forging, formations, alchemy... these were like math problems. If you couldn’t solve them, no amount of effort would change that.

Had Ji Qinghong not mentioned it today, how much longer would it have taken her to realize that the final fragment had already fallen into her hands?

Beyond that, Yan Luoyue was also deeply shocked.

"This invitation of yours... it was the one you stuck on us back at the Matchmaker Temple..."

Ji Qinghong nodded cheerfully. "Indeed."

Yan Luoyue blinked. "Had you already decided to take me as your disciple back then?"

"Oh, not at all," Ji Qinghong said airily. "I just thought it would be amusing to give it to you—a map leading to the Wuti Fire, given to someone named 'Luoyue' (Falling Moon)."

Coincidentally, Yan Luoyue was attending the Thousand Refinements Assembly.

The real map had been crafted into an invitation and passed through the Thousand Refinements Veil set up by the Hongtong Palace multiple times.

The Hongtong Palace was brimming with ambition, ready to explore the secret realm.

Yet they would never guess that the very thing they coveted most was right under their noses.

Wasn’t ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‍that arrangement just delightful?

Just as Yan Luoyue was about to return the map, Ji Qinghong stopped her again, pressing a knuckle against it to push it back.

"Keep it if you like. The Wuti Fire means nothing to me."

Ji Qinghong smiled. "If you ever manage to piece the map together, that’ll be entirely your own achievement."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Hearing this, Yan Luoyue suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to stir up some mischief.

Keep good men company, and you shall be of the number. Spend enough time around Ji Qinghong, and you’d inevitably develop a taste for amusing reactions.

Yan Luoyue asked, "Even if the map is right within reach, Master still won’t take it?"

Ji Qinghong waved a hand. "Don’t try to provoke me. The fire I use isn’t a natural oddity, nor can it be replaced... If you somehow gather the map, this master—"

Here, his lips curled, and his tone shifted abruptly, "—still won’t lift a finger to help. If you’re capable enough to collect the map, you should be capable enough to find the Wuti Fire yourself."

Having said this, Ji Qinghong leisurely turned his gaze to Yan Luoyue, only to find an extremely peculiar expression on her face.

The next second, right in front of him, Yan Luoyue gently placed something on the table.

It was one-eighth of a secret realm map.

—That’s right. Earlier, while everyone was distracted watching Ji Qinghong fight, she had taken the opportunity to divide the map on the spot, testing whether the patterns would change.

Ji Qinghong: "..."

His smile faded slowly as he arched an eyebrow.

Before he could speak, Yan Luoyue placed another item on the table.

It was... another one-eighth of the map.

Ji Qinghong: "..."

His expression grew complicated.

He had barely opened his mouth when Yan Luoyue added a quarter of the map to the pile.

Now, three-fourths of the genuine map lay on the table.

"..."

For once, even Ji Qinghong was rendered speechless for a moment.

He stared at Yan Luoyue. "Why... are you so happy?"

Collecting three-fourths of the map at once was certainly cause for celebration.

But Yan Luoyue’s joy was far too exaggerated!

Yan Luoyue beamed. "Hehe, care to guess?"

Ji Qinghong: "..."

He sighed, closed his eyes briefly, and then reopened them, almost certain of the answer. "You have more?"

Yan Luoyue nodded. "Mm, I do."

She placed the final quarter of the map on the table.

Ji Qinghong: "..."

At this moment, Yan Luoyue stared unblinkingly at Ji Qinghong, determined to sear his current expression into her memory.

—Master, I finally understand your hobby completely!

In an instant, the disassembled map emitted a brilliant white light.

The pieces drew together on their own, the patterns on the paper flickering like static on a broken TV screen before finally—

"Wow!"

Yan Luoyue yelped and leaped to her feet.

The shifting black-and-white lines didn’t obediently form the completed map.

Instead, they transitioned from 2D to 3D, lifting off the paper and coalescing into a... an ink-wash flame!

This was the Wuti Fire’s sub-flame—the very treasure the Hongtong Palace had schemed and fought tooth and nail for!

Who could have guessed that the true map didn’t hide directions to the treasure but the treasure itself?

Yan Luoyue was astounded. "How is this possible? Assemble the map and it turns into a sub-flame? What kind of magic trick is this?"

Beside her, Wu Manshuang was equally dumbfounded.

Ji Qinghong, however, studied the flickering flame for a moment before suddenly bursting into uproarious laughter.

—If it were me hiding it, I’d place it right under everyone’s noses.

The secret realm’s master, the Odd Fire Elder, truly was a kindred spirit—even if the admiration was one-sided.