Chapter 73: A Heaven-Blessed Prodigy

Chapter 73 - A Heaven-Blessed Prodigy "Careful!" Oen Shinae's warning voice cut through the mire's gloom. Although the Ice Pith Fire was seriously weakened, and extremely drained under her hunt, and although now the primal fire core lying in her palm tamed, Oen Shinae was a powerful Mid-Phase Foundation Stage cultivator. However, even a dim frail flicker of the primal core of this Dao Flame should not be underestimated for a cultivator newbie in the mere Qi Refinement Stage. And it did—Lordi Payne just barely touch the Ice Pith Fire, and even with the suppression of the cage spell, the Dao Flame snarled awake—a violent, blazing roar erupting from its core despite its drained state. Then Lordi Payne parted his lips and sucked in a deep, reckless breath. The wild blaze fractured—splitting into seven writhing strands of blue fire, each twisting like a vengeful serpent loosed from the abyss. They lashed out, snaking with eerie precision into his seven orifices—eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth—burrowing into him like spectral worms blood thirsty a still-living host. Saw this, Oen Shinae's words died mid-throat, her face hardening to a gravestone's chill. She recognized this—the first step of the Pyro Fusion Art—and the deadliest step most with the highest failure rate. An innate primal Dao Flame, birthed from heaven's breath and earth's chill, loathed captivity. Though it had not yet developed any spiritual intelligence, its instincts seethed with raw defiance, resisting any cultivator's claim. The physical body constitution of a Qi Refinement Stage cultivator couldn't withstand the mighty blaze of a bloom of eighth-tier Dao Flame. Therefore, if any falter or slip while in the process of absorbing a bloom of Dao Flame with circulating Pyro Fusion Art in the body, the Dao Flame will backlash fiercely, which may cause serious injuries or crippled for the best, burnt to ash on the spot for the worst. Because of the great danger, most sane cultivators started small, practicing with mortal fire first. After all, the mortal fire was no longer a threat to cultivators who had stepped on the path towards Great Dao. Only after countless practices, with the Pyro Fusion Art's circulation flow etched into muscle and soul, would they dare face a true Dao Flame. However, this Lordi Payne? This reckless fool had only heard the mantra of Pyro Fusion Art for merely one time a short minutes ago. And he wanted to plunge headfirst into fusing a Dao Flame now? And his target Flame was even the top quality, most fierce among all the eighth-tier Dao Flame. Oen Shinae's mind reeled—she'd never witnessed such lunacy, reckless action in her whole life— no she hadn't even dreamed it or heard such madness in any wildest crazy tales! Oen Shinae's grip on the bone dagger tightened, its crimson Manjusaka patterns pulsing faintly against her pale skin. "Move it, Fang Jit—get ready to save him, now!" she barked orders. "Easy, Senior Sister, calm down," Fang Jit replied, his face earnest calm, eyes glinting with sincerity. "Maybe he's got it handled?" Well inwardly, Fang Jit smirk twisted wickedly, a thrill surging through his veins. "Come on, blow up already—Dao Flame-san! Roast this fool to ash now!" "If Lordi Payne's fusion failed in this step, the Ice Pith Fire would barely lose no power—still ripe for the next fusion." "With the Siege Array locked tight, the Dao Flame had nowhere to flee. Sharky Ink was a shackled outcast, Oen Shinae's too unfit in her strange constitute condition to claim the Ice Pith Fire. Who'd be left but me—Fang Jit—to snatch the prize?" Fang Jit could already taste it: Lordi Payne crumbling to ash, Oen Shinae's desperate gaze swinging to him, her voice urging, "Take it Junior Brother Fang, fuse the Dao Flame for us please!" Thinking of this, let alone hurrying up to save Lordi Payne. Given half a chance—Oen Shinae's back turned—Fang Jit would nudge the flame's wrath himself, a subtle sabotage to hasten Lordi Payne's doom. By the same time, the seven fire serpents burrowed into Lordi Payne's flesh. Before they could wreak havoc, the AllFullOS System kicked in, circulating the Pyro Fusion Art through his vein and dantian with an eerie, effortless grace. The surging spiritual energy in his veins snapped the fire serpents apart—seven splitting into dozens thinner tendrils, then fracturing into hundreds of hair-fine threads. In a blink, the flames dissolved into countless shimmering filaments, too delicate for the naked eye, sinking and soaking gradually into his cycling spiritual power. A faint azure glow bloomed around Lordi Payne, seeping from his scalp downward, bathing him in an unearthly blue light. Oen Shinae's eyes widened, her breath catching as disbelief carved itself into her frost-pale face. "This wasn't a novice fumbling through his first flame—this was a master's demonstration, fluid and unerring. " "This Junior Brother Lordi Payne, who'd barely heard the Pyro Fusion Art mantra for one time minutes ago, wielded it like he'd been born to it. Minutes! Her mind reeled at the math—such comprehension, such terrifying talent, was beyond genius. It was monstrous." To Oen Shinae, Fang Jit's words echoed back in her mind, suddenly sharp with truth. "We Deathveil Bloodline teetered on ruin, yet the Bloodline Lord had poured everything into this whelp. Now I saw it—Lordi Payne wasn't some stray plucked from pity. " He was a prodigy! A heaven-blessed prodigy! As Oen Shinae's heart swelled with awe, a rare spark of joy flickering in her frost-pale eyes, Fang Jit's face drained to a ghastly, ash-gray pallor, as if the Skeletal Roost Mire's gloom had seeped into his bones. He'd been so sure he's the one snag the prize—Lordi Payne's failure was supposed to be his golden ticket. But this? This freakish display of talent shredded that dream to tatters. "Damn it..." he hissed under his breath, fists clenching tight, malice and envy blazing in his narrowed gaze. His mind churned, a frantic storm. "I'm walking away from this empty-handed—nothing!" Worse, the realization hit him like a cold blade. "This runt's just been in the holy sect—what, a few days? Still an outer sect nobody, still Qi Refinement newbie, and the Bloodline Lord's practically crowning him a prince!" With the Ice Pith Fire fused, Lordi Payne's value would soar—became a magnet for Deathveil's dwindling resources. Even now, in the outer sect, he'd already hog a lion's share. Once he clawed his way to the inner sect? Every privilege perk, every scrap of booster resources would slide into his hands before Fang Jit could even sniff it. Regret gnawed at his gut, sharp and bitter. "If I'd known this whelp was a monstrous genius, favored by Kinson Wexford like some chosen son..." His earlier barbs and sneers along the journey flashed back—each jab at Lordi Payne now a noose tightening around his own neck. "Fuck me..." He'd been a fool, too cocky, too blind. Lordi Payne stayed silent, his azure glow still shimmering faintly, but Fang Jit's paranoia flared. "What if this whelp's stewing on every insult?" The thought sent his face flickering—crimson shame one moment, deathly pale the next. His pulse hammered, embarrassment and dread coiling like the mire's unseen earthworms, refusing to let his mind settle. Not just Fang Jit stewed in regret right now—outside the Siege Array, Sharky Ink seethed, his shackled form trembling as Lordi Payne's azure halo pulsed into being. The glow crept slow and deliberate, a calm, ghostly shroud unfurling across the mire's skeletal stillness, mocking Sharky's every misstep. A veteran of the Deathveil Bloodline, he'd once bled loyalty into its crumbling bones—now be cruelty or heartless wasn't his sin. In fact, his loyalty curdled when Kinson Wexford seized the Bloodline Lord's mantle. Kinson Wexford's personal vendetta with Miu Tyanh, Wraithbone's Bloodline Lord, had torched the fragile peace between their bloodline ties. Now Wraithbone hunted Deathveil like phantoms in the dark—rivalries sharpened into ambushes, resources bled dry, the Deathveil Bloodline's weakness festering year by year into a rotting wound. And yet, here was Kinson Wexford, headstrong and bullheaded, gambling it all. Risking the wrath of the Mid Five Bloodlines, he'd clawed the Ice Pith Fire mission into Deathveil's grasp—a reckless move the bloodline's own members against. If not for his stubborn will and the looming shadow of Fairy Lith, the Sect Successor's fame propping him up, that mad plan would've died in the cradle, sneered out of existence. Sharky Ink had watched it unfold from the start, his faith in Kinson Wexford souring to ash. Disappointment? No—this was despair, a gnawing rot in his gut. The Deathveil Bloodline was a sinking ship, doomed to drown in its own folly, and he'd be damned if he sank with it. But Lordi Payne? That outer sect nobody, barely a blip in the shadows? Sharky Ink never dreamed such a lowlife whelp hid a talent so monstrous. A cold jolt spiked through Sharky Ink as the realization sank in, his gaze locked on Lordi Payne's eerie azure glow. "So the Bloodline Lord's pinning his last scraps of hope on this runt?" For a fleeting moment, his resolve to defect wavered, a crack in his ironclad rebellion will. "Damn. If I'd have known this earlier, maybe I'd have trusted into Kinson Wexford's gamble this once." But the Bone Bloom Curse tightened its icy grip, tendrils of frost gnawing at Sharky Ink's spine like a spectral jailer. His sneer returned, hardening his heart. "Tch—just Kinson Wexford's dying thrash!" he spat inwardly. "Even if this brat's a freak, he's green—needs years to ripen. And Deathveil? It's a corpse waiting to rot. Who knows if it'll last 'til he's worth a damn?" "Fool Wexford!" Sharky Ink's mind hissed, venom coiling. "Banking on a brat when you should've groveled at Fairy Lith's feet, begging her favor. Her highness was the real power here." A dark chuckle bubbled up inside. "And Miu Tyanh? That Wraithbone Bloodline Lord hellbent on vengeance for his brother. Genius or not, this whelp, Lordi Payne's fate was sealed to death—his petty path to Great Dao ends in a bloody ditch here." "My choice stands no wrong!" Sharky Ink glared at Oen Shinae, venom dripping. "You wretched cunt—wait 'til Wraithbone's blades carve through. You're all doomed," Meanwhile, Lordi Payne hadn't any hint of the storm brewing in the trio's minds—Oen Shinae's awe, Fang Jit's envy, Sharky Ink's venom. He was, frankly, a little bored right now. The AllFullOS System had hijacked his body to do the Ice Pith Fire fusion, churning the spirtual energy under the Pyro Fusion Art through his body like a cold machine. All he had to do was sit there, twiddling his mental thumbs. "Once this damn mission's over, I don't care how 'fateful' or 'grand' the so called fortunes or chances Senior Brother Wexford spins it—I'm not biting again," he mused, plotting his escape from this mess. "Back to crafting more elixir pills—grind hard, pay off that crippling fine as soon as possible. Then hit the Pavilion of Myriad Arts maybe, select some decent martial techniques or skills. No more damn venture." His thoughts barely settled when a jolt of agony stabbed through his limbs—a creeping, gnashing pain that erupted across his body like a swarm of rusted blades clawing from within. It was as if a thousand jagged knives shredded his meridians, scraping his bones raw, each slice a scream trapped in his marrow. FFFFFFUUUUUCK! Lordi Payne's mind went blank with the sudden, overwhelming great pain, and he even forgot what he was thinking just now. If he could still control his body, he'd be shrieking like a dying banshee, thrashing in the mire's skeletal muck like a man possessed. But the AllFullOS system was in charge of his body. In others perceptions, Lordi Payne cultivated in a vision of mighty stillness. The Dao Flame fusion ignited—the Ice Pith Fire roaring over him, cloaking his body in a blazing azure shroud that flickered. Everyone knew this second step—the fusion's crucible—was a torment that shattered souls, a trial where even the mightiest wept and broke. Yet they watched as Lordi Payne sat, motionless as a statue carved from silence, his face a placid pond untouched by wind. No trace of anguish furrowed his brow, no tremor stirred his lips. His eyes—wide, unblinking, dark as polished obsidian—gazed into the void, serene as a saint in deep meditation. Cloaked in such undisturbed tranquility, even the wild, eerie azure Dao Flame raging across his skin seemed no more than a lover's gentle caress.