A figure with cinnabar eyes and vermilion hair was outlined by the flowing flames. His eyes blazed bright as fire, his hair crimson as flame. He wore a loosely draped black robe that revealed part of his chest adorned with red-gold patterns, while the same red-gold flame markings flowed across the dark robe. Fierce blazing fire supported his feet, transforming the ground he trod upon into black-red burning soil. These violent yet docile flames coiled around him like a tiger returning to its den.
Born as the Flame Lord, master of all fires under heaven, even though only an avatar had descended, the spiritual essence nearby began to stir and gradually grew fiercer.
But this very Flame Lord, when looking at Li Chi, had an extremely peculiar gaze.
He seemed both wary of and drawn to Li Chi, as if nostalgic yet hesitant.
“You’ve recognized me,” Li Chi said, his final tone slightly rising, lips curved in a smile that seemed present yet absent.
“But the one I recognize should have perished long ago,” the Flame Lord said in a heavy voice.
The flames beneath his feet danced like a performance, the black-red burning soil spreading due to the Flame Lord’s presence, the scorching air pulsing like invisible flowing flames.
But this burning soil and flowing flames stopped when they neared within three feet of Li Chi. Within three feet was a light, gentle wind.
The dusky evening light and the Flame Lord’s flame-glow illuminated Li Chi, making his dark green robes seem ready to dissolve into light and shadow. That smiling face became even more inscrutable and difficult to discern in such illumination.
“Is there anyone in this world who could impersonate me?”
“There is truly no one in this world who could impersonate that person…” The Flame Lord looked at Li Chi, his eyes bright and penetrating with flame-light, as if able to see through everything.
He could tell that the cultivator in dark green robes before him was merely an avatar, refined from spiritual objects containing the dao resonance of wind, but in this avatar, he sensed certain familiar and distant things—so distant they had disappeared twelve thousand years ago.
The Flame Lord had many titles, and Dan Yao Rong Guang Che Ming True Lord was merely one that wasn’t widely circulated. This title had originally been created for special reasons.
Yet several hours ago, while in the northern lands, the Flame Lord’s ears suddenly rang with an invocation of this title.
When someone invokes a divine name recognized by a deity, the deity will sense it, but this is merely a type of awareness that won’t disturb the deity—quite different from what the Flame Lord had just heard. That invocation was as clear as if someone spoke directly in his ear.
This was a great power deliberately invoking his name, not only making no attempt to conceal it, but intentionally wanting him to investigate.
For the Flame Lord who commanded all fires under heaven, even a single spark was enough for him to descend.
Li Chi stood beside ashes that still contained sparks—it was an invitation.
“I still cannot confirm exactly who you are, but…” The Flame Lord’s eyes blazed even brighter as he suddenly raised his arm, violent flames instantly flowing along his shoulder and arm into his palm. “I have come at your invitation!”
The flames in the Flame Lord’s palm condensed into a double-bladed long spear, thrusting straight toward Li Chi!
Li Chi’s form shifted ethereally as he turned. Where his feet touched the ground, the burning soil retreated and clear wind circled around.
Seeing him evade, the Flame Lord showed no wavering. The spear shaft swept horizontally, about to sever his opponent’s waist in an instant. But Li Chi instead rushed directly forward, touching down with the tip of his foot and drifting along the spear shaft to appear before the Flame Lord. The fierce flames on the spear shaft surged toward him, but were rolled into broken flame-streams by the clear wind surrounding him, dancing outside his dark cyan sleeves like red butterflies.
The red-gold spear tip suddenly exploded, rolling backward like a wild wave carrying the flame butterflies, attacking Li Chi from behind. Though he had closed in, the Flame Lord showed no intention of retreating. His golden eyes seemed ready to ignite, his red flames blazing. His hand had already released the spear and reached for Li Chi’s shoulder, forming a pincer attack with the exploding flame sea from the spear behind him.
The towering sea of fire had already engulfed the hem of Li Chi’s robe, the Flame Lord’s attacking palm already close before his eyes, yet his lips still curved in a smile.
Just as the Flame Lord’s hand was about to touch Li Chi’s shoulder, his wrist was suddenly grasped.
“You’re not really suited to using weapons,” Li Chi said with a smile.
Behind him, the rolling sea of fire instantly scattered into scattered red stars. After his wrist was grasped, the Flame Lord made no further movement. His golden eyes looked toward Li Chi, the hesitation and wariness within them already dissolved.
After that single touch, Li Chi released his wrist. The Flame Lord lowered his arm and said, “It really is you.”
The power that dissolved his flames in that single touch truly belonged to the deity he knew.
The burning soil on the ground and the fierce heat in the air began to fade, quickly returning to how things had been before the Flame Lord’s avatar descended. A deity like the Flame Lord could naturally control his influence on the surroundings. His earlier allowing them to spread had merely been a test of Li Chi.
Having now confirmed Li Chi’s identity, the Flame Lord showed none of his previous severity, his entire demeanor displaying relaxation and laziness.
But his eyes hadn’t completely relaxed—he had discovered some things from the earlier test. Li Chi could have directly displayed the power sufficient to prove his identity, but he hadn’t done so. The power in that single touch only flowed between them and wouldn’t be revealed to the world.
Twelve thousand years ago, when Tianzhu Mountain collapsed and the Sun Star was extinguished, everyone had thought this deity had perished, yet now he had reappeared. That there were secrets in between was something that needed no stating. Since he appeared today as an avatar, the Flame Lord naturally understood he didn’t want to expose himself, so he didn’t speak the other’s name.
“Your condition is not good,” the Flame Lord said. This wasn’t just his deduction from Li Chi’s concealment, but also what he sensed from the power in that single touch.
“Indeed not very good,” Li Chi said. He spoke very calmly, as if the one fallen to such straits wasn’t himself.
“What do you need me to do?” the Flame Lord asked him directly.
“I don’t need you to do anything. You need only be as you were in the past,” Li Chi said.
The Flame Lord furrowed his brows and said, “As in the past? What I knew in the past was like viewing mountains through fog, what I did like groping blindly. How can I be as in the past now? I’d rather ask you—what exactly happened back then?”
“Back then…” Li Chi shook his head slightly without explaining, instead asking the Flame Lord, “Now that twelve thousand years have passed, how do you view the events of that time?”
“I know you wished to establish the Underworld, but then the great calamity of heaven and earth suddenly arose. After that, the Sun Star was sealed, and to this day no one has been able to enter and see. Tai Yin said you perished bearing the calamity. After establishing the Divine Court, she fell into a long sleep within the Tai Yin Star, leaving only the title of Great Celestial Venerable, occasionally responding to matters of the Divine Court. The Xuanqing Sect was suddenly destroyed and its name stolen for deception. I do have my own speculations about the events of that time, but now that you’re still alive, all those speculations have lost their meaning.” The Flame Lord stared fixedly at Li Chi. “Now that you stand here, why not tell me what exactly happened back then?”
“You want me to tell you,” Li Chi suddenly smiled. “If I knew the full picture, how would I have fallen to this state today? In these twelve thousand years, have you not noticed anything?”
“You mean the Xuanqing Sect?” The Flame Lord’s brows furrowed deeply.
“Where sunlight shines, darkness dares not grow. While I lived, what lurked in the shadows could only ever lurk there. If I hadn’t died, how would they have dared to emerge?” Li Chi said lightly.
“Did you calculate all this?” the Flame Lord pressed him closely.
“No,” Li Chi said. “If I could calculate everything, the Underworld would have been completed back then. Why would I have wasted twelve thousand years in vain?”
The Flame Lord’s pressing momentum suddenly eased.
The Xuanqing Sect—he had watched how the other had built that sect bit by bit, watched how this deity who need not have walked the mortal world gathered those suffering, resentful souls and birthed in his palm a just Underworld for them.
These twelve thousand years had finally caused those deeply hidden manipulators to reveal glimpses of themselves. From this perspective, these twelve thousand years couldn’t be considered wasted. But the Xuanqing Sect had perished and its name stolen, becoming instead the claws and fangs of the murderer. For a deity awakening after twelve thousand years to see all this today, how could these twelve thousand years not be considered wasted?
The Flame Lord was the first among the deities, and one of the few among them who could roughly understand why he had wanted to establish the Underworld back then.
People often spoke of water and fire as merciless. Reverence for heaven and earth’s nature gave birth to totems and worship. This initial connection between deities and mortal beings originated with mortals. This was a wondrous thing.
Before mortals existed, naturally ignorant beasts wouldn’t think to worship heaven and earth in hopes of making their days easier, while naturally intelligent spirit beasts, though capable of thought, had innate divine abilities that let them comprehend natural principles, and thus understood that worship wouldn’t make lofty, unfathomable deities lower their eyes to bestow blessings upon them.
Only mortals, who possessed spiritual awareness yet remained ignorant of the ways of heaven and earth, would pray to heaven and earth’s nature out of fear of suffering and desire for joy. And the first object mortals worshipped was fire.
People often paired water and fire together, seeming equally close to and fearful of both. When floods rose to the heavens, all beings wailed in grief, yet when rivers nourished the land and rain washed away filth, it brought such joy. When lightning fires burned forests and destroyed homes, there was terror and screaming, yet when flames warmed the cold winter and illuminated cold nights, it brought such comfort.
But water and fire were ultimately different. People could frolic in water, could intimately touch water, but they could never touch fire. Before the first person to attempt using fire was born, water had already nourished the world’s creatures for countless years. But when a certain species successfully harnessed the power of flame, they birthed civilization.
Thus, flame became the first object of their worship, and the Flame Lord became the first deity in the world to sense the power of mortal thoughts.
This made the Flame Lord feel novelty, but only novelty. Though the power of mortal thoughts could be boundlessly vast, very little of it was usable for deities. It wasn’t like the incense offerings of today, which could be easily utilized simply by appropriately fulfilling mortal wishes.
The Flame Lord therefore observed mortals for a time, which also allowed him to sense the ripples produced when causality first fell into chaos.
The power of thoughts was originally harmless. No matter how boundless people’s desires or how deep their loves and hates, all were governed by causality. All influences born from desire and emotion ultimately couldn’t escape causality’s operation. No matter how deep a person’s inner longing, it could only affect their own actions. To interfere with others, they could only influence others through their own actions. And the causes they planted through their thoughts would ultimately receive corresponding effects.
But after causality began to fall into chaos, the boundlessly vast and deep desires and emotions became like unrestrained horses and unobstructed tides, beginning to corrupt all souls who drew upon this power.
When deities seized mortals’ thought-power at the price of fulfilling their wishes, had they not already placed themselves on the platform of transaction weights? Had they not already bound their hearts to the rules of this transaction in their desire for incense?
Even if they had already made selections when fulfilling mortal wishes, even if they had already refined that incense with utmost care, had they not already been influenced by the desires within those thoughts, thus giving birth to a craving for thought-power?
After losing causality’s constraints, desire would devour everything.
The Flame Lord could understand what Li Chi had been doing back then, but didn’t comprehend why he had to go to such lengths.
Those devoured by desire were all tainted by desire themselves. Since deities were pure in their essential nature and need not fear this, why busy themselves to such an extent?
But in the twelve thousand years after the great calamity arose, the Flame Lord gradually began to understand.
Tai Yin said he perished bearing the calamity, and the Flame Lord had believed it at first. Everyone knew these two deities were close friends. What reason would Tai Yin have to lie?
The power born from unrestrained desire had become so terrifying through time’s accumulation, finally becoming a great calamity that struck the world like a tidal wave on that day. What else but such power could extinguish the Sun Star and collapse Tianzhu Mountain?
What other power could cause such a deity to perish?
Moreover, in order to establish the Underworld, he had been the deity who most frequently contacted thought-power. Thought-power ultimately was nothing but greed and hatred. The souls sheltered within the Xuanqing Sect were all those who suffered most from causality’s chaos, souls with the deepest hatred.
Therefore he was the first deity to bear the calamity.
So the Flame Lord of that time had believed Tai Yin’s words. In his view—indeed, in the view of all deities qualified to know of this matter—it was when the great calamity first erupted that it was temporarily calmed by the deity’s demise. Thereafter, Tai Yin established the Divine Court and sorted out destiny qi. Though she fell into slumber, she forcibly suppressed and delayed the calamity for twelve thousand years.
But this couldn’t fundamentally solve the problem. The true solution had already been attempted by the deity who perished twelve thousand years ago.
The Underworld the deity had sought to establish wasn’t merely like today’s Divine Court, reordering chaotic destiny principles as they reordered causality. He was connecting the Underworld with heaven and earth, making it part of the rules of heaven and earth, completely mending the flaw that caused causality’s chaos, returning this world to its proper course.
But in these twelve thousand years, no one had been able to walk again the path that deity had once taken to mend heaven and earth.
Two existences who could be considered among the pinnacle of deities—one perished bearing the calamity at the very beginning of the great calamity, the other similarly suffered severe injury and fell into slumber within the Tai Yin Star after roughly creating the Divine Court. Other deities weren’t without attempts in the subsequent twelve thousand years, but every one of them sensed resistance in this process.
Another deeply hidden power lurked in the darkness, gradually revealing its ferocious claws and fangs.
“He wants to replace you?” the Flame Lord asked solemnly.
He had once thought the deity perished bearing the calamity, but now suspected there was another manipulator behind it all. This was a manipulator capable of contending with the deity and Tai Yin, who caused the Xuanqing Sect’s destruction so swiftly that everyone was caught off guard. He possessed such power yet was so cautious that he hadn’t truly shown himself in the twelve thousand years since. An enemy possessing both such formidable power and such caution was undoubtedly terrifying.
“What he wants is far more than just replacing me,” Li Chi said, his expression suddenly growing cold, producing an awe-inspiring severity that made him unapproachable.
The Flame Lord was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “Diancang Mountain is a force I guided.”
After Tianzhu Mountain collapsed, Diancang Mountain became the only surviving remnant peak. It enjoyed some of Tianzhu Mountain’s residual blessings, and also inherited some of the deity’s residual blessings. After the Xuanqing Sect was suddenly destroyed, the Flame Lord sensed something and guided a group of mortals who had found the correct path of cultivation to settle in Diancang Mountain.
“The Mingdeng Sect was spontaneously established by beings moved in their hearts after the Xuanqing Sect’s destruction. After I discovered them, I looked after them somewhat but didn’t interfere.”
“If you wish to use the Mingdeng Sect’s power, I can unify it for you. If you need Diancang Mountain’s power, I can deliver it to you.”
Though the Flame Lord’s expression carried some laziness as he spoke these words, what he said must certainly be true.
Li Chi suddenly laughed and said, “When I need them, I certainly won’t hesitate to ask you.”
The Flame Lord knew the deity wouldn’t be polite with him, so he no longer dwelled on this matter. His red-gold eyes grew serious, gazing at his eyes and saying, “What happened to you on the day the great calamity arose?”
“Honestly, I don’t remember very clearly,” Li Chi said.
The Flame Lord showed signs of frowning again. Li Chi smiled faintly and said, “I don’t remember many old matters now, but what I do remember is still sufficient.”
This kind of forgetting might very well be deliberate on his part. Sometimes, not remembering certain things was the best response.
The Flame Lord’s furrowed brows slowly relaxed as he said, “Fine. At least you still remembered to find me.”
As he spoke these words with casualness tinged with pride, he suddenly turned and asked, “You truly don’t remember old matters?”
Li Chi raised his eyebrows.
This question was strange. That tone seemed to contain some expectation—not the kind hiding some misdeed, but rather like hoping he’d forgotten some small matter that made the Flame Lord himself feel embarrassed.
Seeing Li Chi’s raised eyebrows, the Flame Lord suddenly realized he seemed to have exposed something.
“Find me again if you need help with anything.” He hurriedly finished speaking and withdrew his divine power, scattering this temporarily descended avatar into a sheet of bright sparks.
Li Chi slowly lowered his raised eyebrows. Mist suddenly rose in his eyes, reflecting causality’s vastness.
He truly didn’t remember many things, but… though he didn’t remember some things, the world’s causality would remember them for him.
TL/N:
Tai Yin (太阴) is female according to the raws in this chapter. In previous translations, I used “he” for lack of a clear pronoun; all references to Tai Yin will be she/her from now on, except when referring to avatars with a different gender (if).