Chương 2: The Phoenix Breath Cultivation Art

Leaves crinkled to a charred husk when flames devoured them whole. All things changed. That didn't make them lesser. When a leaf burned, it became smoke and ash. When Hao fled the White Rivers Sect, he became something less than dirt in their eyes: a wandering cultivator. He just never could have expected his shameful flight to be so damn liberating. A Distillator—even one at the peak of the stage like Hao—was a mere infant in the eyes of the White Rivers.

An infant with plenty of potential, sure, but little more than a baby cultivator still sucking their thumb. Proper cultivators knew the first three stages were just one's toddling first steps on the road of immortality. To the rest of the world, however…

"Please, Master Cultivator, we beg you!" A burly man prostrated before Hao in the plaza of this little farming town, looking up with tears in his eyes.

"Our humble village will not last another fortnight without your aid. Please help us!" Of all the shit luck! Hao had learnt a lot in the last month: how to evade White Rivers hunters, what to do when a demonic boar barged in on him while he was taking a shit in the woods, and that every last village was on the brink of destruction. Or so they said.

"I'm on a strict schedule. I only came here to restock," Hao said, ignoring the burly chieftain's heartbroken expression. Damned helpless mortals! Did they all cultivate the Way of the Puppy Dog Eyes?

"I can't stay." All true enough. Hao had placed over two thousand miles between himself and West Lake City, but that wasn't nearly enough. A motivated elder could cover that distance in a night or two. He was still on the western fringes of the Sunbeam Empire's core. He wouldn't count himself safe until he made it to the Lonely Plains, which was still a few hundred miles away. No White Rivers cultivator would be caught dead in such a qi-poor wasteland.

"We would never ask you to inconvenience yourself, Master Cultivator," a fragile woman said, stepping in for the chieftain. She laid a hand upon his broad shoulder.

"It's just…the demonic wolves! They grow bolder by the day. Just yesterday they…they…"

"They took our dear little Tai," the chieftain said, voice breaking. He rose on shaking legs before bowing deeply to Hao.

"Please, Master Cultivator, help us. They've slaughtered our hunters. They've taken our sons and daughters. We can't protect our people against these monsters!" The small crowd observing chorused in agreement, each chiming in with their own tragic tale.

"They slaughtered my oxen! Our fields go unplowed. My family is ruined!"

"My husband, Yang Hu, was murdered by those beasts! He was a good man, a healer, and they took him." Murdered sons, murdered daughters, murdered spouses. Entire families slaughtered in their homes by the demonic wolves, livestock dragged off into the woods by a great beast while the pack killed off herds for their sick pleasure.

"Enough!" Hao raised his hand. Every villager fell silent. The ramshackle homes surrounding the village square looked particularly pathetic. Hollow-eyed villagers looked at him hopefully. This was just unfair.

"Where is your lord? Where are your protectors?" Isolated little villages were prime targets for beasts, bandits, and bastards. Them coming under attack might as well just be factored into their daily routines: the sun rose, taxes were paid, and puny backwaters wrestled with existential crises. Spirit beasts—animals who ascended past their bestial nature by virtue of cultivation—and demonic beasts, their pissy, malformed cousins who deviated from their natural path, were common sights in the Corelands.

The Sunbeam Emperor's radiance released a constant stream of power which all manner of creatures could feast upon. Cultivators thrived in the Corelands for the same reason. Even these backwards peasants ought to have a few low-level Calcinators in their midst, though their foundations from the first stage, Filtration, were certain to be utter garbage. So why hadn't the resident lord dispatched his own fighters?

"Lord Gao took his retinue to the northern border," the chieftain explained, eyes hard. The villagers grumbled with discontent.

"We've been left to die while they're off fighting the Four Winds! Lord Gao's son is content to leave us to our fate rather than dirtying his own hands." Disgust roiled in Hao's stomach. Leave them, Master Bolin's voice echoed into Hao's mind. Mortals breed quickly. There will always be more of them. What will they learn if you save them? There will not always be a cultivator to put things right. Let them bleed. More than anything, that sealed Hao's decision.

"What can you offer in payment?" The chieftain's eyes widened with stunned disbelief.

"You mean—" His wife elbowed him.

"We have little to spare, but it will all be yours!" The chieftain boomed, thumping his chest. His people nodded in agreement. They stank of hope.

"Hunters, where are you? How many beast cores do we—""That bridge," Hao said, pointing to a few weatherworn wooden planks stuck haphazardly over the banks of a small stream.

"Does it have a name?"

"The bridge? No," the chieftain replied, blinking in confusion.

"It does now! People of Red Plum Village—""Plum Blossom Village," the chieftain's wife whispered.

"—Plum Blossom Village, your bridge is now named the Xiao Hao Bridge. Is this acceptable?" A wild chorus of shouts told Hao that it was.

"Show me the graves," Hao instructed the chieftain, who immediately sagged at the reminder of their losses. Sympathy gnawed at Hao, but this was a necessity. His path was a Way of Wildfire. He needed fuel for the flame he'd ignited within his soul, something to strengthen his conviction and fan his inferno. A row of little graves would make for fine kindling. It was time for Hao to teach these beasts the best lesson that Master Bolin ever passed down to him: Monsters deserve monsters.

A dire threat to a garbage heap like Plum Blossom Village proved to be little more than an hour's work to a Distillator like Hao.

"Sorry about that," he said with a smile, apologizing to the lanky demon wolf as he snapped its muscular neck with one hand. Its matted fur was thick with darkened blood and putrid rot, stinking of foul corruption.

"Hells Below, you're ugly! And you stink. You somehow manage to be offensive to every last sense. It's impressive, really. You ought to thank me for putting you out of your misery." The wolf's snarling face remained slack. Its feral eyes were blank and unseeing. Hao carelessly tossed it onto the pile of its packmates, never letting his attention stray from the clearing.

With his most recent victim added to the macabre stack of kindling, he turned towards the last two of his wretched foes and grinned madly, indulging the Wildfire raging in his dantian for a moment. The Wildfire danced to its own whims. Losing himself to the spiritual force was dangerous at the best of times. Its influence left him more vicious than usual, but also sloppy and arrogant. He could only really embrace the Wildfire against weak foes like these.

"Still alive? Good! What cute little survivors you are," Hao mocked the last two demon wolves. His voice echoed throughout the bloodstained clearing, bouncing off the tangled thickets of trees cradling the lovely little carnage-filled meadow.

"You're tougher than your friends. Not that they were much use in a fight, eh?" Both demonic wolves were massive, black-furred monstrosities. Qi deviation warped them from canines into something more like lanky, desiccated bears. Hardpacked muscle bound them, visible beneath mangy hides, and madness filled their pained eyes. They were little more than vessels of pain and rage. They regarded Hao with hateful gazes.

Both monsters twitched, aching to sprint away from the nightmare, but two of their kin's slack-jawed corpses stood as monuments to such folly. The demon wolves were fast. He was much faster. Hao stalked the predators, drifting through the trees, savoring their fear. His eyes settled on the larger of the wolves, a hunchbacked monstrosity of fur, fang, and stringy muscle. Wild power emanated from it in a way that none of its pack could match. This must be the one that the chieftain had warned him of.

The Beast of Bai Woods.

"I wish I could have seen you as proper spirit wolves," Hao said lightly, fingers tight around his spear. The smaller wolf shivered. Its feverish gaze locked upon an escape route.

"Cultivation deviation is ugly. Even beasts can't escape it." There! Hao grinned madly as the small wolf exploded away in a mad sprint that would've left a horse in the dust. The Beast of Bai Woods snarled its rebuke, but it was too late. Hao fell upon the small wolf like a raptor scooping up a mouse. His spear went unused. Instead, Hao slid a steel dagger between the young wolf's ribs. He savored the sweet give of hide and meat beneath the dagger he'd 'borrowed' from that brat Sister Wei, then ripped it free.

Blood dribbled from the beast's slack mouth where Hao had previously shattered its teeth with the butt of his spear. There was no sweeter delight than watching the foul beast's eyes fade from seething rage to frenzied panic… and at last to emptiness. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"No more savaging innocent children for you," Hao snarled.

"No more little graves!" The words had barely left his mouth before a vicious howl sounded throughout the clearing, silencing the forest for miles around. Hao's eyes burned victoriously as he spun around, raising Yuchen's stolen spear to catch the gnashing jaws of the Beast of Bai Woods.

"You fell for it!" Hao crowed, holding back the enormous wolf—easily the size of a small horse—with some effort. His innate Wildfire Physique enhanced his strength, though a contest like this would sap him swiftly. He wasn't built for endurance. It slavered at him, scarlet eyes blooming with light, and tried to crunch the spear shaft between its mighty jaws. Alas for the wolf, Yuchen's family paid a small fortune for this spear.

The Cheng Clan were a bunch of rancid shits polluting West Lake City, but they had a good eye for craftsmanship. The Beast ripped free as some semblance of reason reasserted itself. Its muscles tensed, ready to leap away to safety— And then Hao's spear punched through its leg. Fire qi exploded from the conductive heavenly jade tip, burning like a coal as it effortlessly slid through cultivation-enhanced flesh. A pained howl spilled from the monster's maw as it hobbled away.

Hao thrust again at the beast, grinning as another blast of flame burst from the end of his spear to wash over the last wolf. The Beast of Bai Woods screamed as half its mangy fur burnt off—Immortals above, the smell was awful—to reveal crispened black skin. Bone peeked from beneath the scorched flesh on its left side. All with just a single technique.

"Good spear!" Hao cried.

"I should've stolen you ages ago!" The spear said nothing. When the frenzied wolf turned to spit at him, Hao met the beast's last act of defiance with a rush of righteous fury. By the end of their struggle, the leader of the pack snarled up at Hao with hate-glazed eyes. Each of its legs was broken or severed, cauterized at the stump so the beast wouldn't bleed out. Hao was generous like that. Snapping jaws sought to rip out Hao's throat. Alas, it had no legs to stand on.

"Mad, stupid, and ugly. I think I'm going to name you Yuchen," Hao said lightly, leaning against his spear. The wolf snapped at him. Its breath stank of rotten meat and old blood.

"You have his charm." Hao snorted to himself, then knelt to look the beast in the eyes.

"Huo Yin. Xiang Xun. Cai Tai. Tang Jian. Do you remember them?" Of course it didn't. Some faint glint of intelligence lingered behind the beast's red eyes, but they were lost to the pain of its warped cultivation.

"Those are the names of the children your pack took. You did a number on this village, Yuchen. Starving farmers too afraid to till their fields. Ranchers waking up to pens full of slaughtered livestock. Rows and rows of graves…" Hao trailed off. This wasn't the first village he'd stopped to help in the month since he'd escaped the White Rivers. Monsters made for good cultivation fuel, and every pittance given to him by a village chief for these little labors was coin not spent elsewhere.

He'd slain bandits, rogue cultivators, and a number of twisted monsters. Yet these wolves had nearly brought Plum Blossom Village to its knees.

"Power is all that really matters, isn't it?" Hao reached out to flick the wolf on the nose. It snapped at him.

"None of that, now! You had your turn with the villagers. Now I have my turn with you. Better to be the sickle than the harvest, eh? That's what Master Bolin always said." Hao's humor faded away with the reminder of his old master. The Wildfire in his spirit reacted in turn, burning hotter and more hatefully, its playful dance forgotten.

"You're suffering. Let me fix that for you." The Beast of Bai Woods growled one last time before Hao ended its pitiful life with a thrust of the Cheng Spear through its half-rotten skull. With the fight done, Hao set about his grisly work with the steady motions of a man who'd done this a hundred times. He carved open the twisted wolf's putrid flesh to remove its fist-sized demon core, severed sinew and cracked bone to cut the snarling head free, and flung the beast's body onto the pile of its butchered kin.

Hao regarded his work even as he sent a rush of flame through his spear, searing away the corrupted blood of the demonic wolves. He worked swiftly and methodically. The White Rivers accepted nothing less. Desperation to advance drove Hao's actions. He needed to grow, to perfect himself, and diversions like this provided all the resources necessary to prime his cultivation for the next level. The alternative to hunting was breaking into his cache of stolen spirit stones, which Hao didn't dare spend.

Not until he made it to his final destination in Sun Wall City and bargained for entrance into the Sun Dragon Trials, where he would throw himself into the Hells in hopes of perfecting his ascension from Distillation to Rumination. Some of his black mood simmered back down to his normal scathing anger.

"Thanks for your donation, Yuchen," Hao said as he assessed the demon core. Mid-grade. Valuable, but not enough to justify a full night spent in the village. He'd show the wolf's head to Chief Cai, collect his reward, and be on his way.

"One more for the Sun Dragon Acolytes." His eyes flickered to the west, imagining the moment he'd seize his destiny by the throat. It all lay there: the Emperor's sacred trials, the competition which Hao would cast down, and the rays of gold in which he'd bathe and reforge his body into the greatest of Distilled Forms. And in a century or two, he would raze the White Rivers into dust. Hao turned away from his bloody ambitions to focus on the here and now.

His eyes fell upon the stack of demonic wolf corpses that he'd piled high, crowned with the limp body of the Beast of Bai Woods. He took a deep breath, grimacing at the wispy qi here. A lowly Calcinator might have been able to subsist on the faint haze of power laced into the air, but Distillators such as Hao were far hungrier. Their very nature was of consumption. How else could they stockpile power and refine the quality of their newly distilled qi?

Such an appetite burnt through Hao's stolen treasures faster than he'd like. Stagnancy was worse than death, and he'd throw every last resource he had into the furnace if it meant passing the Sun Dragon Trials. His ambitions demanded nothing less than perfection.

"Shh, you're safe for now," Hao murmured to his pack, brushing over the massive trove of spirit stones hidden there.

"I don't need you just yet." Resources were expensive. Blood was cheap. Why not convert one into the other? Hao smeared the blade of his spear with Quickflame Oil and set the tip ablaze with a spark of qi. His fire affinity was potent enough to make itself known in the Distillation Stage, igniting the oil into a blazing inferno. Light danced in Hao's eyes as the pile of slaughtered demonic beasts was set ablaze in a roaring conflagration.

The corrupted power warping their bodies went up in flames, searing away their ruined flesh and twisted qi. Hao closed his eyes and sensed the warmth and purity of the cleansing flame. He felt the dispersal of the corruption into pitch-black smoke, which wafted upwards before diffusing into the atmosphere. Perhaps the uncaring world would be kinder to the beasts in their next life.

Through Hao's flame, the thick qi entombed within the demonic wolves' flesh was freed, saturating the air and earth all around the pyre. Hao absorbed all he could, devouring it and nourishing himself through cultivation. His breathing remained rhythmic, cycling through the pattern trained into him for five years now. Qi flowed through him again and again, steadily strained and added into the stockpile of power in his dantian. Such was the way of the Phoenix Breath Art. At last, Hao was finished.

He rose, eyes bright, and bowed once to the pyre. Hao's lips briefly pulled back in a bestial snarl as he looked upon the blackened wolf bones. Well used to such impulses, Hao suppressed it quickly.

"I will put your strength to better use." Such were his last words before he left the wolves behind. He had good news to spread and a reward to claim. Hao strode the village's northern gates with a cheerful whistle. A small group of mortals awaited with mixed fear and hope, looking questioningly at Hao. He answered them by raising the Beast of Bai Wood's rotting head high and proud.

Hao grinned to himself as the village headsman, his wife, and two elders outright wept, throwing themselves to the ground in gratitude. All this for a light afternoon's work. The village was just as Hao had left it: a great open plaza surrounded by basic shops and a small inn, a few ramshackle homes, and sprawling farmland and rice paddies out in the distance. But where were the people? Hao's senses screamed that Plum Blossom Village was home to something besides gratitude.

He stared at the headsman and his wife, picking out their tight shoulders and worried eyes. Danger. Hao sniffed the air, frowning. Something achingly familiar. Something pleasant. Perfume? The only scent Hao expected from this tiny, insignificant village was dirt and shit. His eyes sharpened.

"We owe you much, Cultivator Hao," the chieftain muttered, refusing to meet Hao's gaze.

"You have done us a great favor. The wolves threatened us all."

"They were only an annoyance to one such as I!" Hao declared, playing up his bravado, thumping the butt of his spear upon the ground. He tossed the grisly wolf head to the dirt at the headsman's feet. The man turned green.

"They could not hope to harm me." None of the elders dared to point the thick rows of bandages drawn tight around Hao's forearm where serrated fangs had clamped down. The cloth was white, once. Now it was stained a deep crimson. Nothing that a pill and a few hours cultivating couldn't fix. The scent of perfume strengthened. Hao's nose twitched, slightly more sensitive than usual upon devouring the essence of the wolves. It would fade in time as he processed the remnants of their natures.

But right now, an aroma of expensive agarwood oils wafted from behind him. Given that the standard of luxury in this village was ' doesn't smell like manure', Hao felt it was safe to say that they had company. And why was that perfume so familiar?

"When did they come?" Hao's voice cracked through the plaza like a whip. The mortals quailed, though he was careful to avoid lacing killing intent into his words. He couldn't even be disappointed by the betrayal. Mortals were delicate things, little toys for greater powers to play with. The headsman's eyes burned, frantic and shamed and regretful.

"Please, Master Cultivator, spare us. We had no choice. They came soon after you left—" Hao stepped to the side to avoid a whistling arrow, then spun around to scowl at four familiar faces. He growled as he spied Cheng Yuchen approaching. The pompous bastard was flanked by three other Inner Sect cultivators of the White Rivers. The air grew hot with Hao's anticipation.

"Traitor!" Yuchen bellowed. The Ruminator brandished his fists as qi burst from his skin to crackle around him. Had he not replaced his spear? Hao wouldn't be surprised if the moron swore some sort of oath to never wield another weapon until he reclaimed his heirloom.

"Thief!"

"Hero," Hao added, jerking his head over at the headsman. He helpfully waved his spear once Yuchen's gaze locked upon the stolen weapon. The mortals fled into the inn as soon as Yuchen was distracted.

"Just ask these people." Yuchen snarled at Hao like one of the demonic wolves. Hao glanced at his escorts. Brother Li and Sister Wei, both trusted lackeys of Yuchen who were elevated to the Inner Sect due to their potential. Peak Calcinators, on the edge of Distillation… but not there yet. Nonfactors. Honestly, who let those two infants out of the sect? That was just irresponsible! Knowing the White Rivers, they'd run into the game of some elder hoping to weaken the future support base of a rival.

The last of Yuchen's allies earned a proper frown from Hao. She was the most familiar to him: Sister Fu, dark-eyed and smiling. Always beautiful, always deadly, always intentional. Agarwood perfume soaked her skin and clothes, painfully expensive and strong enough for any cultivator to sniff out.

"Perhaps we'll ask when you're dead and gone," Sister Fu said mildly. A fine bow and poisoned arrow hung in her grip, ready to fire again in the blink of an eye.

"You stole my Heavenly Spring Ring, you bastard of a man! I look forward to plucking it from your corpse." Now, Hao was a rather proud thief when it came to the small fortune he'd stolen from his sectmates. He lovingly counted his spoils each night, caressing his mounds of shimmering spirit stones like a lover. He was damned certain there was no 'Heavenly Spring Ring' amongst his little hoard. Hao played along with whatever game Sister Fu was running.

"It was hardly worth the effort! Maybe the peddler I sold it to a few days back gets more use out of it than I did. Shoddy work for a shoddy cultivator, eh, Sister?" A whistling arrow was her only response. Yuchen rushed forward with a clap of thunder, joined by the two Calcinators as they lunged towards Hao with their swords raised. Fire filled Hao's eyes. Smoke billowed from his nostrils.

"So that's how it is, huh?"