Approaching Crisis

"A resonance..." Qin Sang was startled. Right at that moment, the fire curse runes flared once more, and the fluctuations they gave off seemed slightly stronger than before! Qin Sang's expression changed drastically. He whipped around, but the surface of the sea was utterly empty. ... Dayu Isle. North of the market, a single sect held exclusive domain over the towering mountain ranges; the market was part of this sect's properties. Clouds and mist veiled the deep mountains. A streak of light tore through the air and vanished into the mountain gate. Soon after, clutching a spirit talisman, a young man with a hurried expression flew toward the main peak on his sword. A moment later, he landed before a grand hall on the main peak. From within, a deep, resonant voice suddenly rang out, "What urgent matter makes you panic like this?" The young man bowed hurriedly. "Reporting to Sect Master Martial Uncle, an urgent dispatch from the market!" Inside the grand hall. A dignified old man held a black game piece. *Clack!* The piece struck the board. The old man looked up slightly and beckoned with his hand, drawing the talisman into his grasp before closing his eyes to inspect it. The man playing across from him glanced over and asked curiously, "Third Junior Brother is overseeing the market in person. Could there really be something he cannot handle?" After reading it, the old man let out a soft exclamation of surprise. "Vice Envoy Zuo of the Dongji Alliance's Qiongyu Guild attempted to intercept and kill an unknown cultivator in the market, only to be outmatched and slain instead. Including Steward Liu, a total of six Core Formation cultivators perished—not one survived..." The other man was astonished. "How many were on the opposing side? How could they be so powerful?" "It is said there may have been only one man; the rest were either incarnations or refined corpses. By himself, he slaughtered Vice Envoy Zuo and the others, emerging completely unscathed..." the old man said gravely. "Hiss..." The other man drew a sharp breath. "Even if you and I stepped in personally, we might not easily subdue Vice Envoy Zuo, let alone with so many helpers at his side. Were they so blind as to provoke some Nascent Soul Patriarch? With Qiongyu Guild losing so many men, they will hardly let the matter drop. Does Third Junior Brother want to ask Master to emerge from seclusion...?" The old man shook his head and replied decisively, "Those who died belonged to the Business Alliance, not our righteous path. It is merely dogs biting dogs. How could we disturb Master over such a trivial matter? And we need not wait for Qiongyu Guild to come knocking. That man surnamed Zuo dared shout in full view of everyone that he would cover all losses, and he even rallied helpers in the name of the Dongji Alliance. A great guild indeed—truly flush with wealth! I was already planning to rebuild the market, and now someone has stepped up to pay for it. I shall send someone to demand compensation at once..." ... An unknown distance southwest of Dayu Isle. The sky was cloudless for ten thousand li. Across the empty sea, an escape light suddenly flashed into view. The streak of light flew swift as a shooting star; even Qin Sang would have had to admit inferiority to such speed. *Whoosh!* The light halted abruptly, revealing a figure—none other than the lord of Tianfeng Island, Old Devil Mou. He had originally been lingering near Dongmen Island, but upon receiving the dispatch, he had rushed over at full speed, drawing steadily closer to Dayu Isle. Seeming to sense something, he lowered his flight and cast a glance toward the northeast. Then, with a flicker of blue light between his brows, a blue flame emerged. Beneath the sun, the blue flame appeared ethereal and surreal, swaying gently. Old Devil Mou's lips moved slightly as his hands shifted through a series of seals. Runes sank into the blue flame one after another, causing it to quiver and grow increasingly solid before tilting sharply toward the northeast. Seeing this, Old Devil Mou's eyes narrowed slightly. "Qiongyu Guild's vice envoy in the East Sea was supposed to be formidable, a top expert among Core Formation cultivators. Even if he couldn't win, he wouldn't have missed with the fire curse..." At this thought, Old Devil Mou broke into a pleased grin. Flipping his palm, he produced an oddly shaped little drum. The peculiar drum was unexpectedly a top-grade magic tool. Old Devil Mou cackled villainously. "How bold of you to forge tools using demonic fire! If I hadn't retrieved this magic tool from someone during a soul search, you might really have slipped away..." When Qin Sang had first arrived in the Demon Sea, he was recruited by Qiongyu Guild and agreed to forge tools for them. Back then, his artifact-refining skills were far inferior to what they were now. To gain trust and secure a valued position, he had utilized the Nine Nether Demonic Fire to forge several top-grade magic tools, and this strange drum was one of them. Because the drum bore a trace of demonic fire aura, a Core Formation cultivator who stumbled upon it mistook it for an extraordinary treasure hiding its light. He bought it from Qiongyu Guild, only to discover later that its appeal was merely superficial, and tossed it into a corner. Through a bizarre twist of fate, the drum had ended up in Old Devil Mou's hands. Old Devil Mou put away the drum and beckoned, causing the blue flame to drift into his palm. With a thought, the blue flame tilted once more. Old Devil Mou let out a cackle, took flight again, and tore through the sky. ... Ever since he had entered the Hall of Seven Kills and learned that the Nine Nether Demonic Fire existed here as well, Qin Sang had been cautious. Fearing someone observant might notice, he had never used the Nine Nether Demonic Fire to forge tools for others again. Even in combat, whenever he used the demonic fire against an enemy, he took great care to suppress its fluctuations and conceal it from prying eyes. The batches of magic tools he had forged using the demonic fire consisted of only a very small number. Moreover, they were only magic tools, not magic treasures. With the aura of the demonic fire concealed within, high-level cultivators would not deliberately scrutinize a mere magic tool under normal circumstances. Who could have expected that trouble would stem from precisely those magic tools? Across the boundless sea, Qin Sang transformed into a rainbow of azure light, fleeing northward at breakneck speed. Nearly an hour had passed since the fire curse latched onto him. Right then, the fire curse flared again. Qin Sang's eyes darkened as he stared at the fire curse runes upon his arm. Feeling the fluctuations emanating from the curse, the gloom in his eyes deepened, his heart boiling with shock and rage. Just as he and Bai had previously deduced, Vice Envoy Zuo had sent word to Old Devil Mou before rushing over. The repeated flare-ups of the fire curse were clearly Old Devil Mou's doing. Aside from the first two times, the curse had flared up at intervals ranging from fifteen minutes at the longest to mere tens of breaths at the shortest. And with each flare-up, the fluctuations of the fire curse grew one degree stronger, indicating that Old Devil Mou was closing the distance rapidly. Old Devil Mou could locate Qin Sang through the fire curse, but Qin Sang could also use the curse's fluctuations to roughly determine Old Devil Mou's position. Comparing the fluctuations time after time, Qin Sang could confirm that Old Devil Mou was drawing closer and closer. The silver lining was that Qin Sang still saw no sign of Old Devil Mou. Yet across such an immense distance, Old Devil Mou still had ways to trigger the fire curse. The eeriness of the curse and the sheer might of a Nascent Soul cultivator left Qin Sang anxious and deeply shaken. With Old Devil Mou capable of sensing his position at any moment, changing directions was meaningless. As the crisis drew near, Qin Sang could only flee straight north with single-minded focus. His enemy was a mid Nascent Soul cultivator. Even if Qin Sang used every trick up his sleeve, he would scarcely be able to scratch the man. But yielding without a fight and handing over the Eighteen Demon Banners on a silver platter was utterly out of the question. He did not believe for a second that Old Devil Mou would be kind enough to spare his life after seizing the banners. A patriarch of the demonic path would never lack methods of torture; falling into Old Devil Mou's hands would surely mean wishing for death while unable to die. "Fellow Daoist Bai, have you remembered anything yet?" Qin Sang glanced at the corpse puppet bag and could not help asking aloud. Along his flight, he had tried countless methods to no avail against the fire curse; his only hope now rested on Bai.