Inside the alchemy room of Qingfeng Temple, Li Huowang stood motionless, covered head-to-toe in his master's blood. His dazed mind struggled to comprehend the sheer devastation before him. "Were those pills... or bombs? What exactly did I make with Dan Yangzi?!"
After lying still for a while, Li Huowang slowly pushed himself off the ground, wiping his face with trembling hands. He crouched down to sift through the remains.
He searched for some time but failed to find anything resembling a functioning piece of flesh—not even Dan Yangzi's infamous copper bell remained intact. It had been smashed and flattened in the blast. Finally, a wave of relief washed over him: Dan Yangzi was unequivocally, irreversibly dead.
"But he's dead... What do I do now?" Li Huowang muttered to himself.
He had imagined he'd be overjoyed when he finally exacted his revenge, but instead, a strange emptiness took its place. For days, every plan and action had been meticulously focused on one thing—killing Dan Yangzi. He hadn't considered the possibility that he might survive, let alone what came after.
Dan Yangzi was gone. Bai Lingmiao was safe. He had fulfilled all his promises. So what now?
Just as he was lost in thought, the door to the alchemy room creaked open. Longren and Longming entered cautiously, swords drawn. Their eyes darted around the room, scanning for any sign of Dan Yangzi, but their gazes soon landed on the blood-soaked Li Huowang.
"Who are you, demon?!" Longren shouted, his sword raised defensively.
"Where is our master?!" Longming demanded.
Li Huowang sighed. "Your master? Look down. You're standing on him." He gestured to the floor, where bits of viscera and flesh were scattered. "And by the way, it's me—Xuan Yang."
The two disciples froze. Hesitantly, they looked down and raised their feet, revealing fragments of Dan Yangzi's mangled remains. Their pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Li Huowang bent down and picked up a half-charred piece of Dan Yangzi's face, holding it up as proof. "See? He's really dead."
"I killed him," Li Huowang said flatly. "After all the atrocities he committed, you'd think it was about time. But, honestly, I didn't kill him because of that. I killed him for my own reasons—personal ones."
Just as Li Huowang prepared to explain himself, the two disciples exchanged a glance, sheathed their swords, and bolted for the door without a word.
"Hey! At least let me finish!" Li Huowang called after them, exasperated.
When no response came, he could only laugh bitterly, clutching his still-aching stomach as he followed them to the doorway.
Raising the mangled copper bell, Li Huowang shook it vigorously and shouted into the temple corridors, "Dan Yangzi is dead! He's dead! Come out, everyone—you can all go home now!"
It was New Year's Day, yet the eerie jingle of the bell no longer summoned the mysterious "You Old Masters." Instead, it summoned the temple's remaining servants—disciples, children, and maimed laborers alike.
When they saw Li Huowang holding half of Dan Yangzi's face, they broke into tears of joy, collapsing to their knees in gratitude.
Li Huowang continued to walk through the winding tunnels, spreading the news at the top of his lungs. "Dan Yangzi is dead! He's dead! You're all free to go home now!"
As the message spread, more and more people joined him, their voices echoing in unison, "He's dead! We can go home!"
As he walked, he felt someone gently support him by the arm. Turning, he saw Bai Lingmiao, tears of joy streaming down her face.
Li Huowang managed a weary smile and held up the half-face higher. "He's dead! We're all free now! We can finally go home!"
"Yes, Brother Li! You can go home too! We can all go home!" Bai Lingmiao replied through her tears.
Li Huowang's smile froze. A pang of discomfort shot through him, but he quickly shook it off, lifting the bell and yelling louder, "Dan Yangzi is dead! Come out, everyone! You're free to go!"
Not everyone in Qingfeng Temple shared their joy, however. As Li Huowang approached Dan Yangzi's filthy living quarters, he heard the clanging of metal.
Leading the group, Li Huowang arrived to find Xuan Yuan locked in a heated standoff with Longren and Longming. All three had their weapons drawn, and the tension in the room was palpable.
In the middle of the room lay the so-called "Heavenly Scripture," wrapped in black-threaded copper coins. Li Huowang immediately understood what they were fighting over.
"Xuan Yang! Come help me kill these traitors!" Xuan Yuan called out, his once-friendly demeanor replaced by desperation. "We can share the Heavenly Scripture together!"
Longren, his sword now glowing faintly with spiritual energy, stepped forward, pointing it at Li Huowang. "If you don't want to die, stay out of this! You're no match for us—you only know alchemy. Do you really think you can face us, who practice the way of the sword?"
Li Huowang sighed deeply, looking at the three men with growing exhaustion. "That isn't some magical scripture, you know. It's just an ancient text. Everything I told Dan Yangzi was made up to deceive him."
He turned to the three of them, spreading his hands in exasperation. "Don't buy into Dan Yangzi's nonsense. The man lied as easily as he breathed. He said it was delivered by Laojun himself? Knowing him, he probably stole it from someone he murdered. Let's go. Leave it behind."
Longren and Longming responded by igniting talismans on their swords, filling the room with an ominous wind.
"Xuan Yang, if you don't want to fight, then get out. Otherwise, don't blame us," they said in perfect unison.
Bai Lingmiao tugged nervously at his sleeve, her fingers trembling.
Li Huowang nodded toward the three men, offering them a half-hearted bow. "Very well, Brothers. Good luck with your fight. Farewell."
As he closed the door behind him, the sound of clashing steel erupted from within.
The dark tunnel ahead was filled with hope as the freed servants and laborers made their way toward the exit. Their oil lamps shook in their trembling hands.
The path was unfamiliar and treacherous, forcing them to climb ropes and navigate steep cliffs. But Li Huowang knew this was the way out—he could see it in the trembling anticipation of those around him.
After what felt like hours, a faint light appeared in the distance.
As they neared it, their steps quickened, breaking into a run.
When they finally emerged into the outside world, the brightness of the morning sun forced everyone to shield their eyes.
It was a breathtaking sight. The first light of New Year's Day pierced through the mist, illuminating the pristine mountains and forests beyond. The world seemed like a serene watercolor painting, untouched and pure.
As the golden light bathed their faces, Li Huowang stared at the rising sun, muttering to himself, "Did I really spend all night in the alchemy room? The sun's already up. What a beautiful day."
One of the children suddenly broke into a run, tears streaming down his face as he bolted toward a narrow forest path.
His actions sparked a chain reaction. More and more people began running, eager to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the cursed temple.
Before long, only the seven or eight people from the alchemy room remained, all looking expectantly at Li Huowang.
"Brother Li, shall we go too?" Bai Lingmiao asked, her tear-streaked face glowing with happiness.
"Wait," Li Huowang replied, pulling a bundle of paper slips from his pocket. He handed them to Bai Lingmiao. "These are the final words and addresses of the fallen. When you leave, find a courier to deliver these to their families."
Bai Lingmiao took the slips with trembling hands, staring at them in silent confusion.
Li Huowang smiled at her, then turned back toward the pitch-black tunnel. With his oil lamp in hand, he walked alone into the darkness of Qingfeng Temple.