Chapter 56

The Yi city lay deep in the wilderness.

Unlike the ethereal beauty of a typical Heavenly palace, the palace Yi king radiated an air of solemnity and grandeur.

The Yi King’s Hall was carved entirely from massive stone blocks, and the walls were adorned with interlocking axe-and-knife totems, adding a sharp and resonant atmosphere.

Bai Shuo, eager to find Chong Zhao for discussion, hurriedly followed a maid into the grand hall.

The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks.

The hall was already filled with immortal and demon youths who had come to attend the Wutong Martial Banquet.

Chong Zhao, along with Beichen and Nan Wan, was seated just below the king’s throne.

As an outer disciple of the Piaomiao sect, Bai Shuo was only given a place at the banquet thanks to Chong Zhao’s influence.

Her seat, shared with Fan Yue, was positioned near the hall’s entrance, several meters away from Chong Zhao.

News of what had transpired on Nameless Mountain had already spread.

The immortal and demon attendees whispered among themselves as they cast scornful and envious glances at Chong Zhao.

Meanwhile, the disciples of Yunxiao Sect, seated beside Nan Wan, wore cold and stern expressions.

Bai Shuo frowned as she eyed the lavish delicacies and fine wine before her.

Picking up a piece of pastry and a cup of wine, she sniffed them cautiously.

Finding no poison, she heaved a sigh of relief.

She kept throwing meaningful glances at Chong Zhao, only to find him ignoring her entirely, silently drinking alone.

This Idiot! Of all times, he chooses now to sulk!

Bai Shuo was speechless.

She discreetly retrieved a small paper figure from her storage bag and blew a breath over it.

The paper figure stretched, yawned, and stood up.

“Go to Chong Zhao and tell him…” Bai Shuo whispered instructions.

The little paper figure perked up and began creeping stealthily along the wall towards Chong Zhao.

As Bai Shuo watched the figure, her thoughts wandered to the scene she had passed earlier at the palace gates—the bonfire and the gathering Yi people.

The Wutong Heart Fire was not housed within the spiritual cores of the Yi citizens, so why had the Yi King summoned them outside the palace?

By tomorrow morning, the formation would open, and Yi city would no longer remain an isolated city. Whatever the Yi King planned, as long as she could unite the immortal and demon youths to endure the night, they would be fine.

The key was whether Beichen and Nan Mu would trust her.

Given their shared experiences on Nameless Mountain, it shouldn’t be an issue.

As Bai Shuo calculated her odds, two more paper figures slipped from between her fingers and began creeping towards Beichen and Nan Mu.

Good thing the old turtle taught her these little tricks—they’re proving quite handy now.

Fan Yue, observing Bai Shuo’s frantic activity, handed her a cup of water at an opportune moment.

“Master, slow down. Don’t tire yourself out.”

“My good disciple,” Bai Shuo said, downing the water in one gulp.

By then, the three paper figures had reached their respective targets.

Bai Shuo’s eyes lit up, but her relief was short-lived.

She watched in dismay as the paper figures suddenly went limp, collapsing motionless on the ground.

What’s going on?

Bai Shuo’s heart sank. At that moment, a deep voice echoed through the hall.

“Honored guests from afar, I must apologize for my lack of hospitality. To atone, I shall drink this cup as punishment. Please, enjoy yourselves.”

At some point, the Yi King had taken his seat upon the throne.

He raised his cup and drained it in one go.

The hall fell silent. The Yi King’s gesture of courtesy left the younger immortal and demon attendees—who dared not presume—scrambling to raise their own cups in return.

Whether intentionally or not, the Yi King cast a meaningful glance in Bai Shuo’s direction as he set down his cup.

A chill ran down Bai Shuo’s spine.

She quickly lowered her head, her palms clammy with sweat.

A pair of hands grasped hers.

Meeting the steady gaze of her young disciple, Bai Shuo felt her nerves settle.

From across the hall, Chong Zhao witnessed the scene, his expression darkening.

The wine burned his throat like fire.

“Your Majesty,” Su An of Wuliang Sect spoke, cupping his hands in deference.

“I heard from Senior Brother Nan Wan that the third Wutong Heart Fire will be chosen by the Yi citizens. Is this true?”

“And you are?” the Yi King asked, his gaze settling on Su An.

Clearing his throat, Su An straightened his posture as all eyes turned to him.

“This junior is Su An of Wuliang Sect.”

“Ah, a disciple of Yuzhen Immortal Lord.”

The Yi King’s expression softened slightly.

“Yes, it’s true. The method for selecting the third Heart Fire’s bearer was personally decided by Lord Jinyao. Does Immortal Su have doubts?”

“Not at all,” Su An said hastily.

“It’s just that the Wutong Martial Banquet has always been a contest between immortal and demon clans. Involving the Yi people this time leaves this junior puzzled. Hence, I dared to ask…”

Under the Yi King’s penetrating gaze, Su An’s voice trailed off.

His earlier arrogance faded as his face turned pale, and cold sweat formed on his brow.

The hall fell deathly quiet, the oppressive aura radiating from the throne cowing everyone present.

Despite their disdain for the Yi people, the immortal and demon youths couldn’t help but curse inwardly.

The Yi King, though of an “inferior” race, was an authentic peak Supreme Lord, just a step away from demi godhood.

Su An must have had a death wish to challenge him publicly.

As tension gripped the hall, the Yi King sighed, and the oppressive atmosphere lightened.

“Immortal Su’s question is understandable and likely shared by many of you. In truth, the decision to hold the Wutong Martial Banquet in Yi city was my request to Lord Jinyao.

“Seeing all of you here today, I feel both admiration and envy. The immortal and demon clans are brimming with talented youths, like waves surging upon the sea, while the Yi people lag far behind.”

The attendees were stunned, exchanging puzzled glances.

“After tomorrow, I have decided to open the barrier set by His Majesty Mu Guang over Yi city, allowing the Yi people to enter the world.”

The statement struck like a bolt of lightning.

Everyone stared at the Yi King in shock.

The Yi people, unable to cultivate spiritual energy, were viewed by immortals and demons alike as primitive barbarians.

Without the city’s protection, they would likely face extinction.

And yet, the Yi King intended to send them into the wider world?

“The Yi people, by birth, cannot cultivate spiritual energy and have been confined to Yi city for generations. As a result, our younger generation falls far behind in knowledge and ability compared to you. I am old, and Yi city must one day pass to the youth of our people. That is why I asked the Lord Jinyao to hold the Wutong Martial Banquet here.

“I hoped this event would provide an opportunity for you to see Yi city and the Yi people for yourselves. There are many misconceptions about us, that we are savage and cruel. Through this banquet, I hope you can set aside your prejudice. When my people walk the three realms in the future, I ask that you, remembering the ties formed today, extend your care and refrain from making things difficult for them.”

The Yi king spoke a few words, his gaze sweeping across the assembled immortal and demon disciples, his expression filled with a hint of plea.

Only then did the crowd realize why the Yi King had invited them into the palace before deciding the owner of the last Wutong Heart Fire.

It was clear now.

The Yi had long been shunned by the Three Realms.

The Yi king sought to use the Wutong Martial Banquet to break their thousand-year isolation and carve out a path for his people’s survival.

Bai Shuo stared at the worried Yi King on the throne, utterly stunned.

Had she misjudged him? The King’s earlier words were sincere and heartfelt, devoid of any falsehood.

Someone so devoted to his people would hardly allow evil forces to run rampant in the city.

Could it be that he was unaware of the strange occurrences plaguing his city?

Should she tell him about the evil energy clinging to the Prince? Bai Shuo hesitated, uncertainty swirling in her heart.

“Your Majesty, you’re too kind. Should any Yi walk the Three Realms in the future, Kunlun will surely offer them protection,” Beichen suddenly said, breaking his usual silence.

The King turned his gaze toward the Kunlun swordsman.

Seeing Beichen’s solemn expression, his face softened slightly.

Nan Mu was taken aback by Beichen’s gesture of goodwill, inwardly cursing him as a hypocrite.

Hastily, he cupped his hands and said, “Yunxiao will do the same.”

The others quickly echoed their agreement.

The Yi king smiled and toasted them once again.

However, apart from the moment Beichen spoke, his expression remained calm and detached no matter how fervently the others promised their support.

Bai Shuo, lost in her internal conflict, half-heartedly raised her cup alongside the others.

The wine from the Yi City was unlike the immortal kind, which was sweet and lingering, or the demon variety, which was fiery and intense.

It had a peculiar, fragrant sweetness that left one feeling invigorated.

Shou’an, a disciple prone to overindulgence, drank cup after cup until his eyes glazed over and his courage swelled.

Gulping down another mouthful of wine, he chuckled mischievously.

“Your Majesty!” He suddenly stood up, catching everyone off guard.

Someone who knew his drunken tendencies tried to pull him back, but it was too late as he stumbled into the center of the hall.

“Does the Immortal Shou’an have something to say?” The King’s voice was calm.

“Your Majesty, rest assured! After today, I will inform my master about the reopening of Yi City. Both Wu Liang and Yunxiao will undoubtedly protect the Yi in the future!” Shou’an thumped his chest, loudly making his promise.

Thankfully, he hadn’t said anything too outrageous, and the crowd sighed in relief.

“With the support of Yunxiao and Wu Liang, I trust my people will one day traverse the Three Realms in peace,” the King said.

“Yes… yes, of course.” Shou’an hiccupped, emboldened by the King’s approval, and suddenly raised his voice.

“But, Your Majesty, I am a little dissatisfied with this Wutong Martial Banquet. I hope you can address it!”

“Oh? What is your grievance?”

“I heard that two Wutong Heart Fire were found on Nameless Mountain. One went to the demon clan’s Lord Mu Jiu, which I won’t argue about since his prowess is widely acknowledged. But the other—why should it go to that boy? This fire should rightfully belong to Beichen or Senior Brother Nan Mu!”

Beichen and Nan Wan.

Shou’an’s drunken words left little to interpretation.

He pointed at Chong Zhao with disdain.

“A mere disciple from a failing sect in the Eastern Sea—what gives him the right to claim a treasure that belongs to our immortal clan?!”

Wuliang Mountain had always been subordinate to Yunxiao, so it wasn’t surprising that Shou’an acted as Nan Wan’s mouthpiece.

His remarks, however, struck a chord with many Immortal disciples, who had their own grievances over the matter.

Murmurs of discontent rippled through the hall, and many cast mocking glances at Chong Zhao.

Even someone as composed as Chong Zhao couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

Beichen frowned, about to speak, when the King’s voice rang out from the throne, calm and firm.

“Before the Yi Tomb, this immortal disciple helped my people pacify Rong Xian’s vengeful spirit. He contributed greatly, and his receipt of the Wutong Heart Fire is well-deserved.”

“Your Majesty!” Shou’an, now thoroughly intoxicated, forgot his earlier embarrassment and interrupted the King.

“Beichen and Nan Wan were also present at Nameless Mountain. Did they not contribute to pacifying Rong Xian’s spirit?”

“They did,” the King replied.

“In that case, why should the fire go to that boy? Your Majesty, this is a matter concerning the immortal clan. Shouldn’t we immortals decide who deserves the fire? If we disagree with your decision, why not consult us and let us determine who is most worthy of it?” Shou’an, emboldened by his drunkenness and sensing the King’s reliance on the two clans, roped the immortal disciples into his argument.

Seeing Shou’an escalate the situation, Beichen’s frown deepened.

The fire had been his gift to Chong Zhao, and he didn’t want the King to be caught in a difficult position.

Just as he was about to intervene, the King raised a hand to stop him.

“Bestowing the Wutong Heart Fire upon this disciple of Piaomiao was a decision I made without bias,” the King said, his tone serene but unwavering.

“Your Majesty, with the city set to reopen tomorrow, a small sect like Piaomiao won’t be able to protect the Yi,” Shou’an retorted, frustration creeping into his voice.

Shameless!

To threaten the King with the Yi’s future safety just to take the fire from Chong Zhao!

If it weren’t for Fan Yue holding her back, Bai Shuo would have rushed over to kick Shou’an a few times herself.

The disciples of the immortal clans, though initially indignant, were left speechless by Shou An’s brazen remarks.

While they harbored resentment toward Chong Zhao, threatening the innocent people of the Yi to coerce the Yi king was an entirely different matter.

Trading the safety of the Yi people for the possession of the Wutong Heartfire was disgraceful—something they simply could not bring themselves to do.

“Your Majesty, we do not share such sentiments,” one immortal disciple, his face flushed with embarrassment, quickly stood and offered an apology.

From the throne, there was only silence. The Yi king gazed down, toying with a wine cup in his hands, his expression inscrutable.

The apologetic immortal disciple stood awkwardly, his face tinged with unease, inwardly cursing Shou An’s stupidity.

“So this is the justice you immortals speak of? For a thousand years, my people have been confined to this desolate wilderness by the hypocrisy of your so-called righteousness. Truly, it was never worth it.”

From the throne, a sigh escaped—a sound laced with bitterness, but more so with icy ridicule.

In the distance, Bai Shuo’s head snapped up, unease blooming in her heart.

What was happening? Why would the Yi king condemn the entire immortal clan over Shou An’s actions?

The King’s words were sharp and cutting.

The immortal disciple who had apologized couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Your Majesty, Shou An may have been disrespectful, but you should not insult the entirety of the immortal clan.”

“Insulted? And what will you do about it?” The Yi king looked up, his lips curling into a cold smile.

The immortal disciple’s face turned ashen.

He tried to speak but was suddenly struck by a wave of dizziness.

Without warning, he spat out blood and collapsed to the ground.

“Lan Shu Immortal Lord!”

The sight sent a shockwave of panic through the hall.

Those nearest to Lan Shu reached out to help him, but found they could not move.

Instead, they too spat blood and fell.

This gruesome sequence seemed to trigger some ominous force—one by one, disciples from both the immortal and demon clans began coughing blood and dropping to the floor, including Nan Wan.

“What’s going on?” Beichen and the others turned pale, each feeling a dizzying pressure.

Only Bai Shuo remained unaffected. Instead, she felt a warm energy coursing through her fragile spiritual veins, subtly strengthening her spiritual power.

A thud beside her drew her attention.

Her little disciple had collapsed, his face darkened.

“Mumu?!” Bai Shuo hurriedly retrieved a bottle of medicine from her storage bag and poured it into Fan Yue’s mouth, but it had no effect.

Panicked, she turned to Chong Zhao and shouted, “Ah Zhao! It’s the Yi king!”

Even before Bai Shuo could finish her warning, Beichen, Chong Zhao, and Mu Jiu had already drawn their spiritual weapons and aimed them at the Yi king.

Mu Jiu, his face pale, barely swallowed the blood threatening to spill from his lips.

Holding the trembling Wheel of Destruction  in his hand, he demanded, “Yi king, what have you done?”

On the throne, the Yi king showed no expression.

With a wave of his hand, a brutal force swept through the hall, causing the three of them to cough blood and collapse unconscious.

“Ah Zhao!” Bai Shuo dashed toward Chong Zhao, but an invisible barrier stopped her in her tracks.

Helpless, she watched as the Yi King descended from his throne.

Bai Shuo clenched her fists, horrified.

There had been no poison in the wine—how had he subdued them?

These disciples, the finest of their clans, were immune to ordinary toxins thanks to their countless years of consuming immortal pills. How had the Yi king achieved this?

Why was she the only one unaffected?

The Yi king slowly approached her, halting a step away.

He seemed curious about her immunity and placed a hand lightly on her forehead.

“Ah, so that’s it. You haven’t even formed a spiritual core. Little girl, you’re barely a half-immortal, cobbled together with pills.”

No spiritual core? What did that mean? Bai Shuo was even more confused.

“You’re wondering how I did it, aren’t you?”

Bai Shuo glared at the Yi king but nodded grudgingly.

“I didn’t poison them.”

Perhaps because his grand plan was nearing completion, the Yi king seemed unusually patient with her.

No poison? Then what had happened? Bai Shuo’s heart sank.

Feeling the gentle energy flowing within her, a thought suddenly struck her. She gasped, her voice trembling.

“You made them consume the final Wutong Heartfire?!”

The Wutong Heartfire, a treasure of the Phoenix Clan, was of demigod rank.

Not only could it be used to forge spiritual tools, but it also enhanced spiritual energy.

However, its energy was so overwhelming that even the most powerful beings could only barely refine it within their spiritual cores.

No poison in the world could be administered to these immortal and demon disciples without their awareness—unless what they consumed was not poison, but rather the Phoenix Heart fire refined by the Yi king.

The Heart fire’s power was overwhelming.

Once it entered their spiritual cores, they could not withstand it.

Their vomiting blood was not due to poison but because their spiritual cores had shattered.

Bai Shuo, the only half-immortal in the hall, lacked a spiritual core.

Instead of harming her, the Wutong Heart fire entering her body acted as a tonic.

“Clever as expected. What a pity, though—you’re only a half-immortal. Little girl, being sacrificed for my people is a worthy death for you,” the Yi king said coldly.

Sacrificed? What sacrifice? Bai Shuo’s eyes widened in alarm.

What exactly was the King planning?

She felt as if she had fallen into an enormous conspiracy but had no chance to ask further.

The Yi king waved his hand, and her vision went black as she collapsed to the ground.

Before losing consciousness, Bai Shuo suddenly recalled something—the Princess of Yi, who had always stayed by their side to protect Fan Yue, had not reappeared since they left the hot spring.

As Bai Shuo fell, Wuzhao silently appeared before the Yi king.

“Your Majesty, everything is ready,” he reported.

“Go,” he replied.

Doubt lingered in Wuzhao’s eyes. “Your Majesty, are you certain about this? Zhen Yu is not to be trusted. If we truly kill these immortal and demon disciples, there will no longer be a place for our people in the Three Realms.”

(T/N:huhu..sorry.. the cold spring palace master’s name is zhen yu and not chen yu..i have fix the previous chapter..)

“Do not worry. After tomorrow, my people will no longer be confined to this isolated city,” the Yi king said, his gaze turning toward the depths of the night sky.