56. A United Front Against the Fire Python King

“Shopkeeper, another cup of tea,” said the Swordmaster of the East Gate.

The teahouse owner smiled and replied, “Sir, you’ve been drinking all day—this is already your sixteenth pot…”

“I want to drink, and I’m willing,” the Swordmaster declared, slapping ten taels of silver on the table.

Seeing the money, the owner’s face bloomed with cheer. “Waiter, bring two more plates of pastries for our guest, and serve the finest Longjing Spring tea!”

“Coming right up!” shouted the waiter.

The owner tucked the silver into his breast and said, “Sir, our teahouse won’t be closing tonight. Drink as long as you please!”

“Very well, carry on. I’m still waiting for someone,” said the Swordmaster, gazing out the window. He pondered whether his younger sister had been delayed on the road. It was quite possible; traveling alone, his pace was swift. Perhaps he had simply arrived far too early.

He sipped his tea again, unaware that, at that very moment, Dongmen Qianyun was running through the mountains.

Dongmen Qianyun had already passed thirty or forty corpses—hunters, ordinary folk, herbalists, woodcutters—all scattered along her path. Each body was mangled, missing limbs, and charred black as coal, burned beyond recognition.

“I’m so scared…” Dongmen Qianyun whimpered, curled up in a mountain cave. The cold wind howled, and she shivered uncontrollably.

“Brother, Brother Xie, where are you?” she cried, wiping her tears.

But outside, darkness reigned—she couldn’t see her hand before her face. Heavy clouds shrouded the moon, plunging the night into utter blackness.

Suddenly, deep within the cave above her head, two lanterns the size of human heads appeared—blood-red lanterns that cast a ghastly glow on everything nearby.

Filled with hope, Dongmen Qianyun exclaimed, “Is that you? Have you come to find me?”

She hastily dried her tears and turned, only to see a head larger than a water vat—a massive serpent covered in crimson scales, its eyes blazing like twin infernos.

Despair pressed down on Dongmen Qianyun, a depth of hopelessness she had never known. There were no villages for miles, no inns—no one would ever come.

The great serpent hissed, its tongue flickering like a sheet of flame—though to call it a tongue was generous. It was more like a jet of fire, the forked tip spitting embers.

Shaking her head, Dongmen Qianyun bit her lip. “Don’t come any closer, don’t come closer!” she pleaded, retreating further into the cave. But her back soon pressed against solid scales—the serpent had blocked the exit. There was nowhere left to run.

She knew at once: this could only be a Fire Python. The stifling heat radiating from its body was suffocating.

“Perhaps this is the calamity written in my fate…” she thought. “All I ever brought my mother was misfortune—what else have I ever accomplished? Maybe I was never meant to be born at all…”

A torrent of bitter thoughts surged through Dongmen Qianyun’s mind. She forced a wry smile and stretched out her hands, ready to embrace death.

Sometimes, when you accept your fate, death loses its terror. But the cruelest thing is to find hope just when you’ve prepared yourself for the end.

“Foolish girl, get down!” shouted a voice from the cave entrance.

Dongmen Qianyun turned instinctively. In the next instant, the rocks around the entrance exploded, and a figure rushed to her side, wrapped an arm around her slender waist, and dragged her out.

Torches blazed all around—officers from the county office and disciples from the Fire Dragon Sect had arrived.

Once the disciples of the Fire Dragon Sect learned that Xie Wuji and his companions were from the Danxia Sect, they dared not be negligent. Danxia was a powerful sect; if anything befell its disciples on their territory, their small sect would surely suffer dire consequences.

Thus, the Fire Dragon Sect had mobilized every disciple and elder—eight hundred strong—to comb Fire Dragon Mountain in search of Dongmen Qianyun.

The sect leader himself, upon learning that Dongmen Qianyun was the daughter of Dongmen Yong, was beside himself with anxiety. Nearly everyone capable of moving had been dispatched, and now the mountaintop blazed as if it were daylight, so many torches lit the dark.

The sect leader, a master of the Golden Core stage, brandished a fire staff and said, “Friend Xie, take Miss Dongmen to safety. We will deal with this creature. It has already wounded several of our number, its strength is formidable. Even we cannot defeat it—only hold it off for a time. But if anything were to happen to Miss Dongmen in our county, I, Huo Chilian, could not bear the blame!”

“Very well! I’ll see Qianyun to safety first,” Xie Wuji replied.

He carried Dongmen Qianyun away. She was so shaken, her spirit so battered, that she clung to Xie Wuji as though he might vanish at any moment.

Under a great tree, Feilong and Shouhu were waiting. Feilong exclaimed, “Oh my dear lady, where have you been all day? You nearly scared us to death!”

“I… I…” Dongmen Qianyun could barely speak.

Xie Wuji said, “Enough with the chatter. Watch over Qianyun—I’ll be back soon!”

“But that Fire Python is too strong—you’re no match for it!” Dongmen Qianyun suddenly stood and protested.

Xie Wuji laughed. “What else can I do? The Fire Dragon Sect has risked themselves to help us, and we should just hide and watch? They’re no match for the Fire Python either—they’re only buying us time. If they could defeat it, would they have waited until now to deal with such a deadly menace?”

He paused. “We help as much as we can.”

Dongmen Qianyun wanted to say more, but found herself speechless. She felt utterly useless.

When Xie Wuji returned to the cave, chaos reigned. Hundreds were besieging the Fire Python, yet it remained unscathed. Its scales were like forged steel—only a few white marks marred its surface.

The creature’s immense power pressed upon Xie Wuji.

“Master Xie, is Miss Dongmen safe now?” asked Huo Chilian, the sect leader, gripping his fire staff.

“She is. We should retreat—this beast is too powerful, its body harder than bronze. We can’t harm it at all!” Xie Wuji replied.

Huo Chilian nodded. “Disciples, fall back! Elders, form the Fire Dragon Defense Array with me. Move the wounded quickly!”

“Yes, Master!” the crowd answered. Huo Chilian, worthy of his title, directed the battle with calm precision.

The Fire Python grew enraged; though its attacks were repeatedly countered, the Fire Dragon Sect’s offensive defense had cost them dearly. Still, their sacrifice had bought precious time.

Blood streaked Huo Chilian’s face, but undaunted, he gathered a fireball atop his staff and hurled it at the serpent.

The Fire Python shrieked, one eye bursting as the fireball struck. Lava-like blood gushed forth, setting the grass ablaze wherever it fell.

Xie Wuji was stunned. He hadn’t imagined the Fire Python was so fearsome, or that its blood would burn with such heat.

Suddenly, the serpent caught his scent. For fire-attribute beasts, cultivators with similar attributes were a rare and nourishing delicacy—just as Xie Wuji coveted fire crystals.

The Fire Python twisted its head and lunged at Xie Wuji, jaws wide.

“It's after me! Everyone fall back!” Xie Wuji shouted.

“What about you?” Huo Chilian called.

Xie Wuji smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I can’t defeat it, but I can certainly escape. It’s our own fault for underestimating this trial and dragging you into it. I hope you can forgive us, Master Huo.”

“Now is not the time for apologies. You are honored guests of Danxia Sect. As your hosts, it is our duty to protect you. Be careful, Master Xie—the beast is getting faster!” Huo Chilian cried out.