Chapter Fifty-Five: Heavenly Radiance

The realms of immortals are divided as follows: Mortal Immortal, Spirit Immortal, Celestial Immortal, Golden Immortal, Immortal Lord, and Immortal Emperor. While a Spirit Immortal may not be considered formidable within the Immortal Realm, one must remember that this is the mundane world, and the appearance of a Spirit Immortal here is truly extraordinary.

“Who’s there?” As Bingyan and her companions were still reeling in astonishment, the burly man within the formation noticed Bingyan's presence. His body tensed abruptly, and a formidable pressure surged toward her.

Leng Bingyan touched her nose, preparing to introduce herself; unexpectedly, the man struck first, launching a sudden and unprovoked attack.

Several blades formed from immortal spiritual energy flew toward Bingyan. They shimmered with crystalline clarity, but anyone with strength would recognize the murderous intent they carried. Bingyan was furious—though she had intruded first, there was no need for such violence. Fortunately, it was her; had it been someone else, those blades would have meant certain death.

She may have forgotten that aside from herself, few could cross the blistering magma to reach this place. The more she thought about it, the more she seethed, needing a target for her anger. Outwardly, she remained composed, though her face was now frosted with coldness.

A mere Spirit Immortal—this level of strength was hardly impressive before Bingyan, who stood at the early stage of Immortal Emperor. In an instant, her white gauze robes appeared, and she extended two fingers, effortlessly flicking away the swiftly approaching blades.

A cascade of metallic sounds rang out as Bingyan stood proudly, showing no sign of fatigue. The burly man's eyes widened in disbelief—never before had anyone so easily deflected his attacks.

“Why attack me without reason? Enough. Hand over that cauldron, and I’ll spare you,” Bingyan demanded, her anger not clouding her rationality, her focus firmly on the Divine Dragon Cauldron.

“Fool! If you want the cauldron, I’ll kill you!” The man exploded in rage, his already blood-red body glowing even brighter. His hair seemed to bristle all over, a sight that made Bingyan sigh inwardly—he was clearly at the peak of fury.

“Oh?” Her eyes flickered, “So you’re a Japanese immortal?” Her expression turned icy, and her hands dropped at her sides. With a swift motion, a violet sword appeared in her right hand, while a white light shone from her chest as a crescent star wheel emerged and spun around her body. “Let’s see if you can serve as my trial target!”

“By the way, you wouldn’t happen to be the so-called Japanese god, Amaterasu?” As the battle was about to erupt, Bingyan suddenly asked.

“Hm? You know this deity?” The man—no, Amaterasu—was first confused, then delighted to be recognized. Yet now was hardly the time for pride. “Then you must die!” Bingyan, teeth clenched, gave Amaterasu no time to react, her sword poised at her chest, its sharp edge stabbing straight toward him.

This little Japanese was Bingyan’s most hated foe. At fifteen, Bingyan had entered the Valley of Heaven, isolated from the world, yet she was already aware of the atrocities committed by Japanese in China. Though much of China’s humiliation stemmed from its own decay, the cruelty of the Japanese left an indelible mark on her young heart.

Now, encountering a so-called Japanese god, how could she not seize the opportunity for retribution?

“Fool!” Amaterasu hadn't expected Bingyan’s fierce assault, and he raised his fists to counter. One side wielded fists, the other an ungraded weapon of immense power—what would the outcome be?

No one knew, but reality soon gave its answer. When fist met sword, Amaterasu was sent flying, while Bingyan remained utterly unmoved. Clearly, Bingyan had won.

Had the violet sword unleashed its full power, Amaterasu would not have been merely knocked aside, but obliterated entirely. Unfortunately, the sword’s abilities were mostly sealed, its true strength restrained by Bingyan’s limited power as its wielder.

Even so, the sword’s might was not to be underestimated.

Amaterasu struggled to his feet, crimson liquid trickling from his lips. “Try this next!” The crescent star wheel, attuned perfectly to Bingyan’s will, unleashed beams of starlight from its rim. The wheel spun, glowing white, and shot toward Amaterasu.

Boom! Smoke and dust erupted. Bingyan gauged the force—such a blow would be hard for a Spirit Immortal to withstand.

When the dust cleared, Amaterasu’s battered body appeared before Bingyan. “How pitiful!” Bingyan wrinkled her nose; a Spirit Immortal was hardly enough to challenge her. Without lifting a finger, her two treasures had settled the matter.

She felt a pang of regret.

Approaching Amaterasu, she picked up the Divine Dragon Cauldron—just palm-sized, yet it possessed the wondrous power to form the Nine Provinces Barrier. The cauldron’s surface shimmered with faint golden light, its plain and rough exterior seeming mysterious and otherworldly upon closer inspection.

Bingyan muttered under her breath, waved her hand, and a streak of violet light flashed by, followed by a series of thunderous explosions. At that moment, she teleported out of the underground space.

Earlier, she had used the Violet Plume Energy, neither immortal spiritual energy nor the energy of heaven and earth. To die by the Violet Plume—Amaterasu could have no regret.

This explosion was truly devastating—not only Bingyan’s Violet Plume Energy but also, at the same time, Xia Yu’s battle had reached its peak. Xia Yu had just clashed with Japanese experts, and the Phoenix Heart Fire within her had erupted violently.

The twin explosions combined, far more than a simple sum—the details need not be explained. In any case, the “Divine Toilet” was gone, Mount Fuji was leveled, and half of DJ was destroyed...

※※※ Feather ※※※ Emperor ※※※

Above the vast sea, beneath blue sky and white clouds, giant waves surged. Bingyan appeared here, while ahead, Xia Yu and a black-robed Japanese sorcerer floated above the waves. The instant Xia Yu’s inner power exploded, her opponent was reduced to dust by the overwhelming energy, but she forgot there was still another enemy nearby. The sorcerer cast his spell, and the exhausted Xia Yu felt darkness engulf her eyes. When she opened them again, she found herself suspended in midair, with an endless sea below.

Fierce ocean winds swept across the surface, and Xia Yu, hovering overhead, felt as if she might fall at any moment. The wind whipped the sorcerer’s black robes, fluttering them in the air for a long time.

The sky gradually darkened in concert; distant storm clouds gathered, drawing nearer and growing heavier. Occasional lightning streaked through the clouds, branching like ancient tree roots. Deafening thunder battered Xia Yu’s senses, and when it was loudest, her head ached painfully.

Everything seemed to herald the world’s end.

In midair, Xia Yu clutched her ears, her body covered with wounds from the previous battle. After some time, her injuries had not improved, and blood continued to drip onto the sea below. As her Phoenix Heart Fire briefly recovered, her cheeks regained some color, but soon paled again, leaving her looking frail and powerless.

The sorcerer, by contrast, was visibly ecstatic—any fool could see his excitement. What could make him so elated? The answer was likely the ritual he was performing—a summoning ritual.

At this moment, the sorcerer was calling forth one of Japan’s two great gods: Yamata no Orochi!

The wind intensified, and Xia Yu was barely holding on, ready to fall at any moment. The sky was completely black now, the only light coming from the red glow around Xia Yu and the occasional flashes of lightning overhead.

The clouds were dense and oppressive. Suddenly, dozens of thick violet bolts of lightning descended from the distant horizon, converging about a hundred meters above the sea. The searing, dazzling light forced Xia Yu to shut her eyes, warmth akin to an explosion blowing across her cheeks, stinging slightly.

When she opened her eyes again, Xia Yu was stunned. Somewhere amidst the clouds, a new “person” had appeared. At least, it looked like a person—human-shaped, though rather short, resembling a child of thirteen or fourteen. The figure was encased in heavy, purple armor, with not a single inch of skin exposed.

Through the helmet, two chilling beams of light stared at Xia Yu and the sorcerer.