"Boom!" A blood-clad palm met a palm of azure flame, crashing together with tremendous force. A terrifying surge of air erupted from the point of impact, forcing two Blood Sect elders to hastily retreat, their faces pale with alarm. After the clash, silence held for only a moment before a sharp, terrified cry pierced the mist: "Fire? By the gods, you actually possess hetero-fire!" "Boom!" As the cry faded, another wave of intense heat surged forth from the mist. Rolling in waves, this heat gradually lightened the blood mist that had previously enveloped the ground. "Pfft…." As the blood mist gradually faded, a sudden burst of blood erupted from the person's mouth. Then, a figure shot out from the mist, skidding along the ground, leaving a deep gouge nearly ten meters long before crashing heavily into a tree trunk. The impact shook the trunk instantly, splitting it in two. The figure, leaning against the trunk, collapsed as one leg gave way, his body sinking to the ground. His hands pressed against the earth, blood dripping from his lips. His labored, raspy breaths sounded like the steady movement of a bellows, rushing in and out continuously. "Young Master!?" The two senior elders of the Blood Sect stared at the disheveled figure, their faces instantly pale, their voices filled with shock. They had never imagined that after Fan Ling had unleashed his renowned and sinister technique, the "Bone-Shattering Blood Searing Palm," he would be reduced to such a helpless and battered state by a mere Grand Battle-Style cultivator. Shaking all over, Fan Ling rose from the ground. He glanced down at the charred palm, his pale face flashing with shock. Coughing violently, he lifted his eyes to scan the gradually thinning blood mist. As the three remained silent, the clearing fell into a stillness. Yet only moments later, the soft footsteps emerging from within the mist caused all three to instantly pale. The footsteps grew stronger, and the blood mist slowly dispersed, revealing a figure completely enveloped in emerald flames. Gazing at the figure wrapped in the searing emerald fire, and sensing the steady, intense heat radiating outward, the two Blood Sect elders suddenly felt their internal qi flow momentarily obstructed. Their eyes widened in astonishment, and they gasped in awe, "The fire on his body... is it a unique fire?" The Blood Sect's cultivation technique emphasizes a unique, unconventional approach—favoring the principles of cold and yin energy. As a result, it is inherently in opposition to the nature of fire. Indeed, this opposition is particularly pronounced when compared to ordinary fire-based qi; however, when confronted with celestial flames of a superior caliber—such as the extraordinary fire known as the "Unusual Fire"—the interaction becomes as decisive as a mouse facing a cat. In such encounters, there is no resistance whatsoever—only complete, overwhelming suppression. This dynamic is explicitly outlined in the first of the Blood Sect's foundational regulations: upon encountering a master who wields the Unusual Fire, one must immediately retreat. This clearly demonstrates the dire state in which the Blood Sect's cultivation method has been reduced—by the power of the Unusual Fire. Indeed, during combat against such masters, the Blood Sect's practitioners are often unable to unleash more than five or six out of their ten to fifteen units of full potential. However, few people in this world possess Heterogeneous Fire, so over the years, the Blood Sect members have rarely encountered true Heterogeneous Fire masters. Unfortunately, this time, Fan Ling and the others have truly been unlucky... The azure flames swirling around his body dimmed slightly, revealing a young, strikingly fresh face. Gazing at the three figures' expressions of astonishment, Xiao Yan smiled gently, yet a subtle coldness lingered in his smile. "Who exactly are you? Why have you been at odds with our Blood Sect? As long as you step back, I solemnly swear—on behalf of the Blood Sect's Junior Sect Master—never to pursue this matter further." Standing straight, Fan Ling struggled to gather the two senior elders together and declared firmly. "You simply wanted to drag Fan Lu here, didn't you?" Xiao Yan smiled brightly, yet with an undercurrent of frost, clearly exposing Fan Ling's true intention. Hearing this, Fan Ling's face grew pale, his eyes fixed intently on the younger face—so much younger than his own. It was hard to imagine that someone of such age could possess not only that terrifying hetero-fire, which even his father had deeply feared, but also such exceptional mental strength. "Young Master, you go first. I'll hold him here! With the Master's strength, he should have already dealt with Qing Elder of Tian She Mansion. As long as I delay just a little, I can hold on until he arrives!" The still combat-ready Luo Elder, gripping his long sword, though deeply afraid of the hetero-fire, knew that at this moment, only he still had the strength to stand against the opponent. Upon hearing Luo Elder's words, Fan Ling clenched his teeth, showing no hesitation, and, despite his severe injuries, turned and ran back. Watching Fan Ling dash off without a single pause, Xiao Yan suddenly smiled, though his own body remained still. Turned around and ran a distance, yet felt no commotion behind him;范凌 was briefly puzzled. However, just as the doubt arose, a vibrant, seven-colored light suddenly flashed across his shifting gaze. The fleeting, vibrant hues of light that flashed across his vision did not cause the now-hypervigilant Fan Ling to overlook them. With his feet planted firmly in the ground, leaving a trail of sliding marks, he abruptly halted his forward momentum, scanning the surroundings—only to find nothing out of the ordinary. As he was about to resume his retreat, a sharp, piercing pain surged suddenly from his chest. Lowering his head, he caught sight of a streak of brilliant, multicolored light piercing through his back—right through his heart. His heavy body crashed to the ground, and slowly, his eyelids drooped. Gently, he saw a figure in black robes walking through the forest, approaching him step by step... The slightly surprised voice of the medicine elder echoed in Xiao Yan's mind, indicating that he found it remarkable that Xiao Yan had already grasped the essence of employing the Heavenly Fire Triple Transformation within just one month. Xiao Yan nodded slightly, stored the Devouring Sky Python into his sleeve, then bent down to retrieve the Naji ring from Fan Ling's finger. After a swift search, he finally produced a cold jade box. With a dry mouth, he gazed at the jade box, which was worth an astonishing sum—despite his usual composure, his heart pounded fiercely at that moment. Taking a deep breath, he did not open the jade box but instead placed it directly into his Naji. Then, he went through the contents again, and after a brief moment, an ancient, weathered map emerged. Unfolding the map, the familiar routes and the half-etched, strange patterns came into clear view beneath Xiao Yan's gaze. "Finally got it..." Holding the tattered map tightly, Xiao Yan's face lit up with excitement as he carefully placed it into his storage relic and exhaled deeply. "Little one, hurry up—I've sensed Fan Lu's presence!" As soon as he had secured the tattered map in the storage relic, the voice of Yao Lao came rushing in, urgent. His heart suddenly tightened, and Xiao Yan quickly rose to his feet. Yet just as he was about to turn, his body halted again. He knelt down and struck hard with a palm on Fan Ling's cranial area, hearing the crisp sound of bones breaking—only then did he feel completely at ease, his form transforming into a streak of black shadow and vanishing into the dense forest. Nearly ten minutes after Xiao Yan's disappearance, a red silhouette flashed swiftly across the sky above the mountain grove, only to suddenly stiffen and remain suspended, as if pinned, over an open stretch of ground. Staring with an extremely gloomy expression at the bodies scattered across the open ground, the red shadow flashed down and landed upon the ground, scanning each blood-warded body before suddenly tightening his pupils and stopping on the ten figures dressed in robes embroidered with skull motifs. With his fists clenched, a series of creaking sounds echoed. As his gaze swept over the bodies strewn everywhere, he failed to spot the one he was seeking. Urgently turning in all directions, he soon transformed into a blurred red silhouette and plunged into the dense forest. Inside the forest, the red shadow halted abruptly, his entire body trembling as he gazed at the body lying on the ground. Suddenly, his face turned pale and he raised his head, emitting a fierce, resentful roar. The roar subsided gradually after a while. Then, Fan Lao swiftly approached Fan Ling’s body, raising his hands so that a brilliant glow of blood enveloped Fan Ling’s head. As the light illuminated, a strange drop of blood began to seep slowly from the back of Fan Ling’s skull, finally hovering before Fan Lao. His face was filled with cold, venomous resentment. With a wave of his hand, the blood suddenly burst forth, forming a delicate veil of crimson. Within that veil, a figure wrapped entirely in emerald flames emerged, faintly visible—yet so thin was the veil that even Fan Lu could not make out the figure's exact features. "Boom…" The veil held for half a minute before suddenly rupturing. "Black Skull Tomb... excellent." Gently bending, Fan Lu lifted Fan Ling's body and walked steadily out of the forest, his voice, once so cold and piercing, gradually echoing behind him. "Whichever party it is, as long as our sect identifies the culprit, they shall suffer the agony of being skinned to death with ten thousand blades!"