Chapter Ninety-Three: The Shadowless Tree, The River That Reaches Heaven

"The Tree of Unending Daylight," Lu Qian exclaimed in astonishment.

The Classic of Divine Marvels says: Beyond the southern wilderness lies a volcano, within which grows the Tree of Unending Daylight. Its fires burn day and night, unquenched by gales or torrential rain.

They approached a massive tree, so wide it would take two people to encircle it with their arms.

With a flash of green light, the great tree was severed at its middle. The instant it was parted from its roots, the flames upon it were instantly extinguished.

Lu Qian then cut away a strip of dark red bark.

This material could be crafted into fireproof cloth, impervious to flames. It would make an excellent paper, greatly enhancing the fire resistance of his paper figurines.

The entire Fire Valley raged like a furnace. The searing heat left everyone drenched in sweat.

Lu Qian produced a vial of medicine, pouring out glossy black pills.

"These are Fire-Repelling Pills. Swallow one and you will not be harmed by the flames."

This past month, Lu Qian had refined all his old medicines—Fire-Repelling Pills, Fire-Thunder Powder, and more.

The group swallowed the pills and instantly felt refreshed, their bodies relaxed and invigorated.

He dissolved some into water for their hounds and mounts.

Thus fortified, they entered the ravine.

Before their eyes spread a sea of firelight; the air shimmered and heat waves rolled in. Flames hung from every branch like the leaves of phoenix trees. The blend of trees and fire was truly a rare sight.

The deeper they went, the hotter it became. If not for the pills, they would have been roasted alive in less than a quarter of an hour.

This was no place for ordinary folk. Lu Qian ordered the mortals to withdraw, leaving only his eleven Daoist soldiers.

The valley floor was barren, covered only by the endless fire-red trees.

Suddenly, the Nine-Eared Hound's ears twitched.

"Master, something approaches!" Xie Han drew his sword, his eyes wary.

All nine ears of the hound flickered, signaling the approach of at least nine beasts.

The group readied themselves.

Lu Qian reached out with his senses. Several miles away, a herd of massive creatures was barreling toward them.

The hound’s senses were remarkable—far sharper than Lu Qian’s own spiritual perception.

"Plant the Fire-Thunder Powder!"

At his command, ten stout mountain spirits with vertical beast-like pupils opened their packs, setting out oil-paper-wrapped charges upon the ground.

A thunderous stomping shook the earth.

A herd of giant rats—each as large as a water buffalo, with fiery red skin, sharp muzzles, and long tails—came into view.

At the tip of each rat’s tail blazed a roaring flame. Their claws were as long as daggers, their eyes blood-red and glinting with savage malice. There were about a hundred of them.

Boom!

When the fire rats were a hundred yards away, the ground erupted in a deafening explosion.

The Fire-Thunder Powder ignited, the blast hurling the front ranks of rats into the air. In an instant, nearly half were obliterated.

"Wretched beasts!" Lu Qian grunted coldly.

A streak of blue-green light shot forth.

Boom!

It circled the field, boring through the skulls of a dozen fire rats.

Eerie green flames clung to their bodies, spreading rapidly.

"Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!"

The fire rats writhed and shrieked, a nauseating stench of charred flesh filling the air—but they would not die.

Meanwhile, the mountain spirit soldiers pounded their noses, spewing serpents of flame from their mouths.

Whoosh!

The fire serpents struck the rats with crackling pops, but caused little harm.

It seemed fire-based spells were ineffective against these creatures. Yet the fire rats had no special attacks; they were simply tough and impervious to flame.

Soon, all hundred rats lay dead.

A sudden roar erupted as the ground collapsed. From the dust emerged a colossal beast—twice the size of the other rats, wreathed in flames, smoke billowing from its mouth.

This was clearly the fire rats’ leader.

Its hide was even thicker, immune to common spells. Its cultivation was roughly that of a late-stage Qi Refiner.

The Fire Rat King glared venomously at Lu Qian, as if recognizing him as their leader.

"Excellent!"

Lu Qian’s bloodline power surged through him, an invisible majesty radiating outward. His Daoist soldiers quailed, frozen under the pressure.

The Pale Demon Blade gleamed with bloody light; the Dragonhide Armor clung to his body, resembling dragon scales.

Bang!

He became a blur, charging at the Fire Rat King.

At that moment, dark clouds gathered overhead.

Jet-black rain poured down.

The rain struck the rat king, sending up clouds of white steam.

Bathed in the True Water of Yin Gui, the rat king’s fiery fur fell away in sheets, revealing pale skin beneath. The beast howled in agony.

"Afraid of water, are you?" Lu Qian mused.

Gain and loss, rise and fall—such was the unshakable law of the world.

Under the cleansing of Yin Gui True Water, the Fire Rat King’s power was halved.

Seeing this tiny ant approaching, the beast felt humiliated beyond measure and struck down with a massive paw.

A flash of blood-red light!

Buzz!

The fire rat’s right paw was severed.

Before it could even scream, Lu Qian leapt high, his golden pupils locking gazes with the rat’s.

Facing a foe a dozen times his size, the rat king was struck by fear.

The Blood-Transforming Demon Blade plunged into its skull.

Thud!

The beast collapsed in a heap.

Lu Qian stepped forward, his blade drawing out a sphere of blood.

The stench was so foul he nearly retched.

"Not all beast blood can be absorbed. It seems proper alchemical treatment is needed first."

He flicked the blood onto his blade, letting its foul energy be purified.

He harvested the bones and took the rat king’s demon core—a treasure found only in beasts of at least fifty years’ cultivation, worth at least five hundred spirit coins on the market.

With the monsters slain, the group finally left Fire Valley.

They crossed through dense, shadowy woods.

Night had fallen.

Suddenly, the land opened before them.

A deafening roar of water filled the air.

They looked up—and the sight before them would remain in their memories forever.

A great river raged, yellow as a dragon, hurling monstrous waves that crashed against the banks. Each wave was at least thirty feet high; no boat could remain upright, a single crest would overturn it.

The river was not only swift but immensely wide, stretching beyond the horizon—like the sea itself, yet more turbulent.

Above the waters, black clouds churned, thunder and lightning flashing blue and bright, illuminating the land.

"This is the River That Reaches the Heavens!"

Beneath the vast stars, the moon’s light swelled and the great river flowed on.

Lu Qian could not help but recall the poem: Stars hang low over the boundless plain; the moon surges with the mighty river’s flow.

"Prepare water and provisions. We shall pay our respects to the Waterfolk," Lu Qian said, turning to his companions after a moment’s awe.

He had thought it was just an ordinary river; Wan Jianying’s warnings now seemed far from exaggerated.

To cross by boat would be to court disaster, the waves would surely overturn them. Who knew what dangers lurked below? Flying was out of the question; from the density of lightning above, they would be struck down in moments.

They prepared offerings of meats, fruits, and wine.

A yellow cloth three feet long was spread upon the ground, the food arranged on redwood trays.

Red candles and three sticks of incense were lit on either side.

"To the Celestial Realms above, where sky-water stretches far; I invite the spirits, to greet us from afar. Fine wine to share, threefold offering to present. I come with a request—may all paths open before me."

Lu Qian stepped forward, intoning the archaic incantation.

A wild wind rose.

Mist swirled over the river, and a tall black boat burst from the water, like a beast leaping from the depths, startling the group.

Then, thick dark fog rolled in from all sides.

Lu Qian sensed a strange presence approaching.

It had a human shape but was cold and devoid of warmth—like a ghost, yet corporeal.

He felt no malice; it must be the legendary Waterfolk, so he made no move.

The mist enveloped them, blocking all sight.

With a whoosh, the candles were snuffed out.

Crunching sounds echoed, accompanied by low, chilling laughter.

When the mist withdrew, an old man stood before them.

He was white-haired and hunched, his skin pale as if water-logged. Below each ear, a patch of flesh flexed—on closer inspection, they were gill-like, much like a fish’s.

"Greetings, elder cultivator," Lu Qian offered a respectful bow.

The man appeared ordinary, but his mysterious arrival hinted at profound cultivation—either a reclusive ancient or a master.

"I am Zhu Lie of the Waterfolk," the old man replied, giving a polite nod.

Lu Qian had heard tales of the Waterfolk: some said they were spirits who attained human form through cultivation, others that they were water ghosts reborn, or natural-born elves. Their origins were shrouded in mystery.

"You wish to cross the river?" Zhu Lie glanced over the group, smiling.

"Indeed. What is your fare?"

"Twelve in all. Three hundred spirit coins each; a little less for the group, so three thousand in total."

He stroked his beard, his fish-gills pulsing with pleasure—it was a good deal.

"Three thousand! That’s expensive," Lu Qian muttered.

Three thousand spirit coins equaled three hundred merit points—a Qi Refiner’s stipend for more than twenty years. Far more than Lu Qian carried; he had barely five hundred coins on this journey, not nearly enough for the fare.

"A flat price. You’ll find no cheaper among the Waterfolk," Zhu Lie said with a half-smile. "Of course, you may try to cross on your own, but a word of advice: the river’s monsters are not easily dealt with."

Lu Qian considered, then produced a pouch of bronze coins. "Never mind. I’ll go alone—I won’t trouble my companions."

"Very well."

Turning to Xie Han, Lu Qian instructed, "You all should return. In the meantime, search for several people for me. If you find them, send them to Myriad Phenomena Isle."

He described the appearance of Yao Yue, Xi Yue, and others.

Whether they lived or died, this was a final precaution—one day he would return.

"Yes, Master."

Lu Qian then boarded the boat with the old man.

The vessel was black, tall as a tower, with a pointed keel and wide upper deck, sideboards for protection.

There were three decks: the bottom for ballast, the middle for living quarters, and the upper a hall from which voices drifted.

The boat was not large—ten paces wide and twenty long—but lacked sails. The moment Lu Qian boarded, it glided smoothly into the mist.

All around was an impenetrable fog. The roar of the river vanished. It was as if the world beyond no longer existed.