Solar Trueflame

"I can go around this way—I took the wrong path!"

Yan Kuan observed carefully for a moment and realized he had apparently gone the wrong way. The other side of the cave entrance he'd come through was the real route deeper into the tomb, while the path he was on now should lead straight to the main gate. No wonder he'd run into that Sword Sharpening Stone.

He quickly changed direction and pressed forward. Celestial music drifted faintly and clearly into his ears, growing more distinct, washing over his soul and stirring his heart with both thrill and ease.

Yan Kuan descended the steps, treading on white jade stairs, and felt a biting chill. This jade was unusual, containing a trace of Supreme Yin Qi, making him want to sit down cross-legged and cultivate on the spot.

But he didn't stop now; he continued onward, soon entering a vast underground chamber. A gust of yin wind hit his face, and as he looked up, a creature dove straight at him, its pitch-black claws aimed at his crown.

"Pfft!"

The Trigram Treasure Box in Yan Kuan's hand shot out a divine beam. Though the Great Power Supreme Treasure couldn't unleash much of its might in his hands, it was still enough to deal with a monster like this. Blood splattered as a dark shadow crashed to the ground—a bat monster over two meters long lay dead.

"These kinds of exotic beasts are hard to find in this era. A bit heavy on yin energy, though—you'd need special methods to process them for cultivation."

The Trigram Treasure Box in Yan Kuan's hand shot out another divine beam, drawing the bat into its storage space. The bat was somewhat disgusting, but in this End of Dharma era, running into an exotic beast like this was decent luck—it counted as a special resource.

The Flame Emperor's inheritance that Yan Kuan had obtained naturally included alchemy. Among the countless bizarre formulas were methods to turn yin-cursed monsters like this into treasure, so this bat monster was excellent material for him.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh..."

Just as Yan Kuan finished dealing with one bat monster and prepared to move on, a patch of black clouds swept in—more of those bat monsters, this time in a swarm. He didn't turn down resources delivered like this. The Trigram Treasure Box flashed with divine light, and dozens of bats were all sucked inside.

After clearing them out, he smoothly reached the end of this underground chamber. Ahead, another set of white jade stairs appeared, leading deeper underground, as if step by step he was approaching a legendary cave dwelling. The scale of the work was immense.

As soon as he entered deeper, the celestial music rang out here. Ahead stood a row of chime bells, all ringing on their own, trembling without anyone striking them.

These chime bells were ancient yet perfectly preserved, undamaged after thousands of years—forged by cultivators through countless temperings.

But there were no Dao marks inside them, only something like essence, spirit, and soul. It seemed the tomb's owner had loved musical instruments, and the ringing was the unconscious remnant of the owner's imprint.

Yan Kuan stopped before the chime bells, quietly savoring the pleasant celestial tones. He didn't go further, because he knew his limits. Ahead was no place for a small fry like him to force his way through—not even with the Trigram Treasure Box, a Great Power Supreme Treasure. He'd need a King's Divine Weapon for that.

Yan Kuan sat cross-legged before the chime bells, his Fiery Golden Eyes carefully sensing what lay ahead. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine as he felt a murderous intent. Sword lights like bolts of silk crisscrossed and slashed through the void—gold, crimson, purple, blue—multicolored flying swords tearing through the air.

This was lethal killing intent. Even just watching from afar, Yan Kuan's skin broke out in goosebumps. This was an ultra-powerful flying sword Dao, left behind by an Ancient Saint.

Several sword lights roamed through the void ahead. One crimson sword shone the brightest, no bigger than a palm, spinning and dancing in the air, while the purple, blue, and golden sword lights followed behind, wantonly splitting the void.

These weren't real flying swords—just sword intents, left by an Ancient Saint. Even watching from a distance made one's skin feel like it was splitting. Their power could tear through the void and the sky.

The tomb didn't have many killing mechanisms, but just the Sword Sharpening Stone and the sword intents here were more than ordinary cultivators could handle. Without Dao Palace Secret Realm cultivation, you couldn't get past the Sword Sharpening Stone blocking the way outside. And here, it was even more dangerous—any cultivator below the Immortal Platform who tried to force their way through would die.

Yan Kuan understood the danger well and wouldn't recklessly charge in. Besides, the position of the Celestial Chime Bells was enough for him to make his plans.

His divine power flowed, and his Fiery Golden Eyes saw deeper. Where the sword qi raged was a stone chamber for sword practice. On the wall hung seven palm-long sword sheaths, crudely made from simple animal hide, so decayed they were nearly turning to ash.

This Ancient Saint was unpretentious. The ancient tomb held no malicious traps—only the Supreme Yin Qi seeping from the stone door, the bat monsters, and a few places where sword intents lingered as dangers.

The animal-hide sheaths had rotted after thousands of years; even a slight external force could cause them to collapse. But if those sheaths were destroyed, the seven sword lights slashing through the stone chamber would vanish too, and this supreme sword intent inheritance would be lost forever.

Yan Kuan didn't use his Fire Pupil power to affect the sheaths from a distance—that would be too wasteful. He was quite tempted by these sword intents, and if he had the chance, he naturally wanted to claim them.

Yan Kuan's gaze swept past the stone chamber into the deeper area—the tomb owner's burial site, and his true goal. A blazing expanse of flames rolled and flickered deep in the tomb chamber, the temperature terrifyingly high. It was a sea of Solar Trueflame.

Through the flames, he could see a coffin wrapped in an ancient vine, buried at the deepest part of the tomb, making the whole place blaze with intense light.

This was the legendary Cremation Coffin. Only figures of great standing could use such a method—ordinary people couldn't arrange it, because it required Solar Essence and a Firevine nurtured on a sage's blood essence.

Deep within the Solar Trueflame sea, the ancient vine was clearly thousands of years old. Its roots coiled like a flood dragon, its leaves like red gold, gleaming brilliantly, dazzling in the firelight.

It was rooted in the Solar Trueflame, drawing nourishment from the fire essence to grow—a nearly dreamlike spiritual vine, a treasure for forging weapons and artifacts.

Firevine seeds were extremely rare, especially those that could take root in Solar Trueflame—rarer than phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. They were the favorites of Ancient Saints. Many sage-level experts chose the method of cremation burial before death.

An ancient legend held that when sage-level experts knew they were about to die, they would use the supreme yang essence of the Firevine to sustain the last trace of yang energy in their bodies, burying themselves in a feng shui blessed land to await resurrection. So anyone who could use this Cremation Coffin was a truly extraordinary figure.