Infinite Fire Record

Chapter 13: Practicing

Peach Blossom Island, Five Elements Formation.

The Imperial Heaven’s eyes burned with anger, the corners of his mouth curling into a cold smile as his gaze darkened with killing intent.

“Hmph, Guo Jing, you miser, how dare you humiliate me! Once I master the Burning Decree, I will avenge today’s disgrace. Hmph…!”

With those words, he strode into the bamboo house, his wide sleeves sweeping up a fierce wind as the bamboo door slammed shut.

Not long after, Huang Rong arrived at the door and spoke sorrowfully. “Tian’er, open the door and let Mother see you.”

Her heart ached, sadness laced with frustration. She had wished to ease the tension between Guo Jing and Yutian, yet Guo Jing had been so stubborn, insulting Yutian by offering him a mere copy of The Long Fist of the Great Ancestor.

Huang Rong loved Yutian deeply, and when he left in anger, her fury toward Guo Jing only grew. Though she had raised this child for years, she knew the darkness within him had never faded. And Huang Rong’s nature was not to be trifled with either.

With anger in her heart, she left Guo Jing behind and came seeking Yutian, hoping to console him.

Inside, Yutian furrowed his brows, his cold gaze fixed on the closed bamboo door.

With a long sigh, he waved his right hand, summoning a gust of wind that slowly pushed the door open.

Huang Rong stood before him, her face weary with sorrow, her eyes red-rimmed as she gazed upon her son.

Yutian met her gaze and let out another sigh. “Mother, do not grieve over this matter. I have no connection to Guo Jing. The so-called bond between us is nothing but a joke. There is not a trace of the Guo family’s blood in my veins. The only blood that flows within me is yours. As for why this is, I cannot explain. You need only know that I am not related to Guo Jing.”

Huang Rong’s heart trembled. She had thought Yutian was merely speaking out of anger, but his sincerity shook her. Her son had never been one to speak falsehoods. The realization left her stunned.

Yutian let out a long chuckle. “Mother, some things are beyond explanation. Just know that your son is no ordinary person. Guo Jing was trained by Ma Yu of the Quanzhen Sect, steeped in Confucian teachings. That is why he sees me as a demon. Confucianism itself is to blame for this. And for that, I will have my vengeance.”

His words were resolute, and with that single statement, he set himself on a path opposing Confucianism.

Huang Rong remained silent, her gaze falling upon the silver flame-like glint in Yutian’s brow. A thought crept into her mind. Could my son truly be destined for greatness?

In the end, she gave him a gentle smile. “As you wish, Tian’er. But in the future, you must train diligently in your grandfather’s martial arts. When the time is right, I will pass on the Nine Yin True Scripture to you.”

Her love for her son ran deep. She could not bear for him to waste time on inferior techniques.

After exchanging a few more words, Huang Rong eventually left.

As she disappeared, a smirk formed at the corner of Yutian’s lips. After all, she is still my mother. In the end, mothers always stand by their children.

His expression darkened slightly. As for Guo Jing… I hope he will not be reckless. My martial arts may not be perfected yet, but in terms of wit, I have already outmatched him. A small scheme is all it would take to ensure his demise.

A chilling smile played on his lips.

The next day, Yutian sat with a book in his hands. Black ink on white paper exuded an imposing presence.

Falling Sword Palm—a technique as elegant as drifting leaves, its palm strikes imbued with the sharpness of a blade. A first-class martial art of the Jianghu.

Yutian casually flicked his hand, and the peach blossoms around him danced like colorful butterflies. Among them, a pale hue glowed—an eerie light, akin to a slow-burning flame.

As the petals descended, a decayed bamboo shoot crumbled into ash.

Yutian’s brow tightened. “This power… It is stronger than I expected. The silver-white threads… could it be Bone Spirit Cold Fire? Since my body was originally shaped by an external flame, it is natural for my constitution to carry such traces. This fire is both extreme heat and extreme cold—two opposing forces. That explains why the rotten bamboo disintegrated.”

He clenched his fist. “So, the Blazing Fire Palm does not manifest flames because of aura manipulation or the technique itself, but because of my physique?”

Testing his theory, Yutian extended his hand and uttered coldly, “Blazing Fire Palm!”

A gust of silver wind surged forth. Its hue wavered with subtle distortions, carrying an eerie yet potent aura. The wind brushed against a tree stump, leaving behind a smoldering black mark.

The outer bark crumbled into ash.

Yutian’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “It seems I have taken another step forward.”

With that, he pressed his right foot against the ground and shot into the air like a whirlwind. Peach blossoms swirled around him, carried along by his momentum.

Mid-air, he swung his right hand and commanded, “Falling Sword Palm!”

The floating peach blossoms transformed into razor-sharp blades, glimmering like a swarm of vibrant butterflies as they cut through the air.

Beneath their beauty lurked lethal intent. The silver threads among them were like hidden daggers.

With a faint sound, the tree stump below was sliced apart and reduced to dust.

Yutian landed gracefully, lowering his hands as he gazed into the distance with a pleased expression.

“Impressive, truly impressive. This is the martial world’s kung fu. Though this technique cannot directly harness aura like Blazing Fire Palm, it is still remarkably powerful. If I were to return to the world of Dou Brothers and modify it, this technique could evolve into an earth-ranked fighting skill.”

Confidence swelled within him, his suspicions aligning ever more clearly.

Seating himself at the stone table, he sipped a cup of tea, a trace of regret flickering in his eyes.

“Unfortunately, my past life’s supernatural abilities did not carry over. Those abilities stemmed from my bloodline—like the generals of the Witch Tribe, whose spiritual power catalyzed their inherited gifts. But now, my blood is merely that of an ordinary human, devoid of such abilities.”

His gaze darkened. “Still, my soul has fused with Bone Spirit Cold Flame, allowing a faint flame characteristic to linger in my internal energy. And within my soul remains my original supernatural power—the Devouring Ability.”

He tapped a finger against the book before him.

“But right now, that ability is like a newborn child—dormant, and of no real use.”

With a sigh, he turned back to his studies.

If I cannot rely on supernatural abilities, then I will master martial arts instead.