Chapter 039: The Three Forms of Blazing Fire

"Exhausted? I think you haven't used your full strength yet. You can't keep dodging like this... Come on, take the thirty-sixth leg from my clone!" Ning Wanqing chased after him, chattering incessantly, her goddess-like demeanor completely forgotten.

These thirty-six clones, though each possessed less than a thirty-sixth of the original's power, were formidable enough thanks to her overwhelming strength. Even a fraction was more than enough to put Lin Zhan through his paces; he needed dozens of Fierce Flame Fists to shatter just one clone.

He darted up and down, zigzagging left and right, utterly disheveled. Yet, whenever the opportunity arose, Lin Zhan managed to turn and unleash the first form of the Fierce Flame Fist, a blow he had long been preparing.

As the thirty-sixth clone of his immortal sister swept toward him with a dazzling attack, fragrant as spring, Lin Zhan found himself with nowhere to escape. In a flash of inspiration, a heavy, black sword—Little Cloud—appeared in his hand.

Without thinking, he swung it in accordance with the moves of the Fierce Flame Fist, desperate to try anything.

Thunk!

The heavy sword, though blunt, suddenly erupted with a brilliant, piercing red light from its blade, enveloping the incoming clone in a radiant glow.

Ning Wanqing's thirty-sixth clone was stunned, clearly bewildered by the unexpected sword and its fierce red brilliance. She froze, unable to react, as the red light cleaved down upon her.

A surge of energy rippled through the air; the clone's power vanished completely, shattered by the sword, its force gouging a charred, deep groove into the icy surface beneath her, sending blue shards flying.

Lin Zhan, sword in hand, stared blankly, unable to believe what had just happened.

Clap, clap, clap! Applause echoed behind him, accompanied by a wave of fragrance as Ning Wanqing herself floated gracefully into view. "Whether you call it Fierce Flame Fist or Fierce Flame Sword, it seems you've finally mastered the second form!"

"Fierce Flame Fist? Sword?"

Lin Zhan was shaken. The Fierce Flame Fist, gifted by Qin Qingxuan, was a fragmented manual: the first form, Fist Burst; the second form, Fist Wind; and the third, Fist Blaze, the only one capable of unleashing true edge. That sword strike just now felt as if it embodied the effect of Fist Blaze.

Moreover, could fist techniques and sword techniques truly be interchangeable?

If so, that would be incredible!

As for the second form, Fist Wind? Lin Zhan suddenly understood: he must have already learned it unconsciously, blending it seamlessly with the Wind Shadow steps during his trial with the goddess' clones, so its effects weren't obvious. That sword just now? It seemed to have been triggered in that very way... Lin Zhan fell into deep contemplation.

He did not realize that Ning Wanqing, not wanting to disturb his insight, had glanced back at him with a profound look before quietly departing.

After a long while, Lin Zhan, still gesturing with his hands, finally emerged from his valuable reverie. The Fierce Flame Fist was so vast and profound; though only the first three forms remained, he now appreciated their endless benefits. Foundational as they were, their ability to empower weapon techniques as well was truly extraordinary.

Lin Zhan did not yet grasp the full value of this Fierce Flame technique in the cultivation world, nor did Qin Qingxuan, he supposed. But at his current stage, possessing these three forms was a stroke of luck.

After his immortal sister left, the illusion around him dissipated. Facing the rock wall, Lin Zhan nervously clenched his fist, channeling his energy according to the insights from the Fist Blaze form, and unleashed a fierce blow.

Boom!

Where his fist landed, an ice slab the size of a millstone instantly vaporized, exposing rock unseen for centuries, blackened and steaming. Scalding, melted water gushed all around.

Lin Zhan opened his hands, scratched his head, and felt a rush of joy.

He thought to himself, "I wonder what level I've reached now..."

Without bothering to undress, he leapt happily into the hot spring of Hero's Pool.

Nothing in life was more pleasurable than a soothing hot bath after utter exhaustion.

While Lin Zhan lingered in the secret cave, in a small hut at the gathering place of the Red Refining Valley's labor squad, the leaders of the Daisy Hall—Labour One, Labour Two, and Labour Three—sat in a semicircle, all staring anxiously at a new steward, whose demeanor was even fiercer than Huo Yi's.

"Listen, keeping your eyes on me is pointless. All assignments in the Labour Hall come from above—whether you're handling chores, tending spirit herbs, or taking on this Cloud Prison mission, you don't get to pick and choose. Accept your fate. Tomorrow, at this time, you'll follow me. Once there, obey my orders. If you're lucky, you'll be back in three months," Steward Cao Jin said, seated on the hut's only chair, his tone indifferent.

"Steward Cao, and if we're unlucky...?" Labour Two blurted out, worry etched on his face.

He didn't finish before Labour One shot him a warning glance.

But even with Labour One's intervention, Labour Three couldn't contain his concern. "Steward Cao, we've heard from seniors in other halls that Cloud Prison is a perilous place. Each time labour disciples go there, ten leave and only three or four return. Luck or no luck, isn't this just sending us to die?"

Labour Four chimed in, "We're just labour disciples, not inner sect members. Why should we take on such dangerous tasks?"

Labour One, anxious and with a wry smile, waved his hands and said, "Say less. If we don't follow orders, we'll be expelled from the Labour Hall, and from the Flaming Peak altogether."

The brothers all fell silent, gloom settling over their faces.

Yes, none of them had managed to enter the inner sect, so they'd joined the Labour Hall, hoping someday to seize an opportunity, transform themselves, and escape mediocrity.

But if they ceased to be labour disciples, they'd lose even that slim chance.

Ten go, three or four return—there's still a forty percent chance of survival. Maybe they'd be among the lucky ones.

People cling to hope until the bitter end, always believing they'll be among the fortunate few.

Cao Jin was already irritated. He'd come to assemble the group, expecting some of the labour disciples to curry favor, but instead encountered nothing but resistance.

"Of course, I'll make arrangements to protect you as best I can. But most of the dangers there come from the imprisoned demons and fiends, so casualties are inevitable. It's a test for you."

Cao Jin stood, yawned, stretched, and continued, "Tomorrow at this time, the ten from Daisy Hall will wait here. I'll take you myself."

"Safe travels, Steward!" Labour One and the others stood and bowed, but their faces remained clouded with worry.

After Cao Jin left, the four gathered again.

Labour One, his gaunt face even more grim, looked at his three junior brothers and said solemnly, "I'm the eldest. When we reach Cloud Prison, if people start dying, let me be the first."