Chapter Sixteen: The Flame Saint and Li Yunfeng

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After hearing the story, Li Ziyuan felt deeply moved… Such a formidable legendary figure had been framed by a mysterious person—who could this shadowy adversary be… even the Flame Saint could not defeat him… then what am I? Merely an insignificant ant?

Li Ziyuan continued to read on; next came the cultivation manual. He studied it with utmost seriousness, occasionally furrowing his brow as if pondering its profound secrets; at times his eyes gleamed brightly, as if he had grasped a crucial insight.

Seeing this, Li’s father spoke softly, “Ziyuan, this technique is no simple matter; you must study it diligently.” Li Ziyuan nodded firmly, his gaze resolute.

After finishing the Flame Burst Technique, Li Ziyuan eagerly opened another manual titled Soaring Cloud Steps. Excitement sparkled in his eyes as he longed to uncover the wonders of this method.

Li’s father watched his son’s intense focus and felt a surge of emotion. It seemed to him he was looking at his younger self, that boy who once hungered for power.

The Soaring Cloud Steps, when cultivated to the Great Perfection stage, can increase speed by twentyfold and create illusory clones to participate in battle.

Its founder was Li Yunfeng, the young master of the Heavenly Spirit Sect.

Sixteen years ago, Li Yunfeng set off alone to slay the Demon Empress of the Beast Clan… and was never heard from again.

Some say he died; others insist he still lives.

Li Ziyuan suddenly lifted his head, eyes sharp as he looked at his father and asked, “Father, did Li Yunfeng of the Soaring Cloud Steps really just vanish like that?”

His father’s eyes flickered with surprise, a faint, hard-to-detect bitter smile appearing on his face as he slowly replied, “Yes, he disappeared…”

Li Ziyuan frowned and pressed further, “Is it possible that he’s still alive?”

His father fell silent for a moment, then gazed deeply into Li Ziyuan’s eyes and whispered, “Perhaps…”

Li Ziyuan sank into thought, his curiosity about his father’s identity growing ever stronger. He bit his lip unconsciously, stealing glances at his father as if searching for some hidden clue in his expression.

At the same time, Li’s father noticed his son’s gaze and smiled wryly to himself. He knew Li Ziyuan’s curiosity had been fully aroused, but he was not yet ready to reveal the truth.

In the following days, Li Ziyuan recited the cultivation formulas over and over, reading and rereading them, afraid to miss a single word. Occasionally, his father would come by to check on his progress.

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Each time, Li Ziyuan would casually or deliberately bring up questions about the technique’s creator, trying to coax more information from his father.

But Li’s father always evaded the questions skillfully, which only made Li Ziyuan’s curiosity burn brighter.

On the fifth day of the eighth month in the Cloudrise Kingdom—wedding day—

At Li Ziyuan’s wedding, he wore a black ceremonial robe meticulously crafted by his mother, standing tall and dignified. His sharp brows framed deep, cold eyes like a frozen pool, a prominent nose giving him a noble air. Though not fond of marriage, his expression was calm and composed.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly—perhaps a trace of helplessness amid the festive atmosphere, or an unspoken complexity toward the future. His tied-back black hair added a touch of rebelliousness.

Li Yuer, on the other hand, looked exceptionally beautiful. Her red, flowing wedding gown blazed like fire, making her skin appear even more radiant.

Her bright eyes sparkled with happiness, her delicate eyebrows quivering slightly, and beneath her petite nose, her cherry lips flushed naturally red. A simple hair ornament adorned her hair perfectly, enhancing her gentle elegance. Her graceful figure, like a blooming flower, stirred envy among the village youth.

At that moment, from beneath an ancient tree nearby, strange black smoke began to rise from the earth—where Jiang Yun had been buried alive. The rare cursed soil seemed to be stirring something dark.

Suddenly, a hand broke through the ground—blackened and emanating a putrid stench, like a ghost risen from hell.

Li Ziyuan felt an inexplicable sensation, as if something significant was about to happen.

His father noticed the change in his expression, a flicker of worry crossing his eyes. Their gazes met for a fleeting moment, and Li Ziyuan seemed to read something unusual in his father’s eyes, though he could not put it into words.

Just then, Li Yuer gently linked her arm with his and smiled softly, “Ziyuan, today is our great day—what are you thinking about?”

Li Ziyuan snapped back to reality, looking at her tender smile. Marrying someone he did not love stirred complex and uncomfortable feelings. He replied indifferently, “Nothing much, just a bit tired.”

Li Yuer’s eyes filled with concern. “Then rest a moment; there are still many ceremonies ahead.”

Li Ziyuan nodded but couldn’t help casting another glance toward the ancient tree.

Watching the exchange, Li’s father felt a swell of emotion. He knew Li Ziyuan’s future was destined to be extraordinary and pondered whether the time had come to reveal his true identity.

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Wedding Banquet Turmoil: Underlying Currents and Mysterious Legends

In the spacious courtyard of Li’s family home, over a dozen tables were neatly arranged—each one brought by villagers bustling with excitement. Every table symbolized the villagers’ blessings and hopes for the wedding.

An elderly man with white hair and a cane stood before the gathered crowd—he was the renowned village chief of Qingyan Village.

Respected and wise, the chief had overseen village affairs for many years. Deep wrinkles marked his face, but his eyes still shone with sharpness and calm authority.

Beside him stood Li’s parents, their faces radiant with smiles. Li’s father was tall and imposing; though dressed plainly, his extraordinary aura was unmistakable. Li’s mother was gentle and gracious, eyes shining with joy over her son’s wedding.

Li Ziyuan stood expressionless, while Li Yuer fidgeted nervously, her fingers twitching.

The chief raised his withered yet commanding hand, instantly silencing the lively crowd.

In a booming voice, he declared, “Ah, today is truly a good day! First, we celebrate the union of this young couple—a joyous occasion for our village, wishing them a lifetime of harmony and love. Second, it coincides with Qingyan Village’s annual Harvest Festival—a blessing for us all. May next year’s harvest surpass this year’s! Now, everyone, let the old man toast first!” With that, the chief lifted his cup and drained it in one gulp, his hearty spirit prompting cheers from the villagers.

Li’s parents joined in enthusiastically, calling out, “Eat and drink plenty!”

Nearby, a young man wept bitterly, drowning his sorrow in drink.

This youth was Zhao Hu, known for his straightforward nature and well-known affection for Li Yuer throughout the village.