Fragmented Map of the Netherworld Demonic Fire

The morning mist in the Secluded Valley was like shredded gauze, drifting over the stream and condensing into tiny droplets. It clung to the grass blades and fell, dampening the neatly folded letter resting on the bluestone. Xiao Yan crouched down. The moment his fingertips touched the paper, he felt a chill—one that spread up from his fingers. He could not tell whether it was the cold of the morning dew or the sorrow Xiao Yi Xian had hidden in the ink when she wrote these words. He carefully unfolded the letter. Delicate handwriting filled his vision, every stroke carrying a familiar gentleness, yet each one pricked his heart like a fine needle:

"Xiao Yan, seeing these words is like seeing me. The Calamity Poison Body is like a disease clinging to the bone, gnawing at my meridians day and night. If I stay, perhaps I can stand beside you today, but tomorrow, I fear the poison may erupt and spiral out of control, hurting you and implicating the innocent. I may head to the Extreme North in search of an ice lotus, or enter deep valleys to seek immortal herbs that can neutralize poison. The road ahead is vast, and my return date unknown. Do not miss me. Do not look for me. You carry your own obsessions and should pursue your future—go to the Alchemist Convention, seek stronger power, and fulfill what lies in your heart. The day you achieve fame and success will be the day I know you are safe and well. Take care. —Xiao Yi Xian"

The wind curled around the edges of the letter, producing a soft rustling sound, like Xiao Yi Xian's hesitant sigh by the stream before she left. Xiao Yan clenched the paper tightly, his knuckles turning white. His fingertips rubbed over the four words, "Do not miss me. Do not look for me," and it felt as though something was blocking his chest, leaving him suffocated and aching. He raised his head and looked toward the depths of the Secluded Valley. There were only the overlapping shadows of towering ancient trees, with mottled sunlight filtering through the branches. He would never again hear the girl laughing as she called his name, nor see her lowering her head over medicinal herbs, loose strands falling across her forehead as she furrowed her brows in concentration.

"Awoo—" The Purple Gold Winged Lion King suddenly let out a low growl by his feet. Its massive head gently nudged his arm, its amber eyes filled with concern. Warm breath fell across the back of his hand, carrying a comforting warmth. Xiao Yan took a deep breath and tucked the letter inside his clothes, close against his chest. As his body heat slowly warmed the paper, the emptiness in his heart eased a little. He reached out and stroked the Lion King's thick mane. His voice still carried a trace of hoarseness, but it was exceptionally firm. "Xiao Yi Xian, no matter where you have gone, no matter how difficult this poison body is to cure, I will find a way to heal you. And I will find you."

As he packed his belongings, Xiao Yan's gaze landed on the simple medicinal furnace beside the stream—it had been built by Xiao Yi Xian from several bluestones. Black medicinal residue still stained its walls, left behind when she had refined Healing Pills for him a few days earlier. In the bamboo basket beside it, half a basket of fresh herbs still carried the water vapor of the morning dew. The veins on their leaves were clearly visible, as though silently telling of their owner's unfinished work. In silence, he carefully packed away the furnace and basket. He then glanced at the bluestone where they had once sat side by side. It seemed to still retain the warmth of their conversations. In the end, he turned and took hold of the Purple Gold Winged Lion King's reins, heading out of the valley. Behind him, the Secluded Valley was gradually swallowed by the mist, leaving only the babbling stream, as if it were playing a lingering elegy for this silent farewell.

He traveled eastward, passing through forests covering the sky and sun. The rotting leaves beneath his feet were thick enough to swallow his ankles, while unidentified Demonic Beasts occasionally roared from the woods. He crossed rugged mountain ravines, where steep rock walls were covered in moss, and one careless step could send him sliding into the rushing streams below. More than ten days later, as the vegetation before his eyes gradually thinned and the coarse scent of yellow sand began to fill the air, Xiao Yan finally reached Luofeng Town at the edge of the Tagor Desert.

The small town was like an isolated island wrapped in yellow sand. Its earthen-yellow houses were low and tightly packed, their roofs covered with thick thatch still stained with grains of sand that had not been shaken loose. The streets were paved with broken stone, worn smooth by passing pedestrians and camels. Whenever the wind blew, it swept up a thin haze of sand. The stalls lining the streets were crammed full. Water bags were piled like small mountains, their leather surfaces stamped with the marks of different merchant caravans. The scent of baked flatbread drifted from the dry-ration shops, mixed with the scorched fragrance of dripping fat from roasting meat racks. Vendors selling sandproof face coverings and camel saddles shouted at the top of their lungs, their voices carrying the roughness rubbed into them by wind and sand. Most of the passersby wore durable coarse-cloth clothes, their trouser legs tucked into their boots. Their faces bore the exhaustion of long journeys. Some had just returned from the desert, their clothes still stained with sand and weathering. Others were preparing to depart, carrying bulging packs with apprehension for the unknown journey written in their eyes.

The Purple Gold Winged Lion King walked at Xiao Yan's side, its enormous body particularly eye-catching among the crowd. It stood more than two meters tall, its golden mane gleaming like satin beneath the sunlight. Its limbs stepped onto the stone road with muffled thuds, each stride carrying the pressure of a Third-tier Demonic Beast. Passing pedestrians all turned to look, instinctively backing away. Curiosity flashed in some eyes, while others showed reverence. Children tugged at their elders' clothes and peeked timidly, but no one dared approach. After all, in a town so close to the desert, a Third-tier Demonic Beast was an exceptionally rare sight. An ordinary merchant caravan only needed a First-tier Demonic Beast as an escort to establish a foothold in town.

Xiao Yan ignored the attention around him. His thoughts still lingered on Xiao Yi Xian's letter, but his feet did not stop. His gaze swiftly swept across stall after stall before finally stopping at an inconspicuous one at a street corner. The stall leaned against an earthen wall whose plaster had peeled away, exposing the yellow soil beneath. A battered wooden board stood behind it, its edges cracked and stained with plenty of yellow sand. More than a dozen maps were spread across it. Some were yellowed parchment, their curled edges framing ink that had faded with age. Some were crude cloth drawings, with rough routes sketched in charcoal and simple, sloppy labels. There were also several maps made from beast hide, their surfaces covered in fine fur, rough to the touch but durable.

The stall owner was an old man sitting on a small stool with his back against the earthen wall. He wore a washed-out gray robe, its hem frayed and its cuffs patched twice with crooked stitches that looked as though he had sewn them himself. His face was covered in ravine-like wrinkles, deep and shallow alike, as if branded there by the desert wind and sand. The lines at the corners of his eyes were especially deep, squeezing his already clouded eyes even narrower. His hands were withered and bony, his joints prominent and his skin dark brown. Sand was embedded beneath his nails, impossible to wash away, while thick calluses covered his fingertips from years of handling maps.

The old man kept his head lowered as he leisurely wiped a parchment map with an old cloth. His movements were slow and mechanical, as if all his strength had been exhausted, or as if he were merely passing empty time. Only when Xiao Yan stepped before the stall and blocked the sunlight falling over him did he slowly lift his head. A faint, imperceptible gleam flashed through his cloudy eyes as he swiftly looked Xiao Yan over—from his travel-worn black outfit to the Black Heavy Ruler hanging at his waist, then to the Purple Gold Winged Lion King behind him. He immediately lowered his head again. His voice was hoarse as though rubbed by sandpaper, carrying a trace of laziness and impatience. "Buying a map?"

"Sir," Xiao Yan said, leaning forward slightly with a polite, deliberately calm tone, "I need a detailed map of the depths of the Tagor Desert. Preferably one that marks water sources, oases, and the distribution of dangerous areas." He knew the Tagor Desert was boundless, spanning thousands of li. Its dunes shifted with the wind and sand; today's route might be buried beneath yellow sand by tomorrow. Not to mention the dangers hidden within the desert—the Snake People Tribe occupied its depths, and their poison arrows sealed throats at the sight of blood, never leaving survivors. Sudden Black Sandstorms could instantly devour merchant caravans, burying everything beneath yellow sand. There were also Ancient Restrictions buried deep in the dunes. Once triggered, they meant a fate of being crushed to pieces. A precise map was the key to survival in the desert. More importantly, he remembered Elder Yao mentioning that the Snake People Tribe in the depths of the desert might possess an Ancient Inheritance related to poison. Perhaps it could offer a sliver of hope for Xiao Yi Xian's Calamity Poison Body.

Hearing this, the old man stopped moving and glanced at Xiao Yan with his cloudy eyes, as though confirming that he was not merely asking casually. He stretched out a withered hand, pulled a parchment map from beneath the wooden board, and handed it over. This map was newer than the others. The parchment carried a faint muttony smell, and black ink lines clearly marked the locations of dunes and oases. Red cinnabar highlighted several areas labeled "Snake People Tribe Settlement," "Black Sandstorm High-Incidence Zone," and "Ancient Restriction Remnants." Several lines of tiny writing also appeared in one corner, marking the exact coordinates of three hidden water sources in fine small script, with simple terrain symbols drawn beside them. It was clearly a map made after someone had personally explored the area. "This Quicksand Secret Path Map was drawn when I followed a merchant caravan into the desert a few years ago. The routes are accurate, and the dangerous areas are marked in detail. Fifty Gold Coin." The old man's voice remained hoarse and devoid of unnecessary words, as if he were naming an utterly ordinary price.

Xiao Yan took the map, his fingertips brushing over the rough parchment surface as he carefully studied its markings. Once he confirmed that the routes were clear and the information detailed, he nodded in satisfaction and reached for his Money Pouch. Xiao Yi Xian had sewn it for him from durable cloth, with a small medicinal herb embroidered on it. Remembering that now made his heart ache even more. But as he lowered his head to take out the money, his gaze inadvertently swept over the corner of the wooden board. A smaller piece of beast hide lay pressed there, mostly covered by several maps, with only a palm-sized section exposed.

This beast hide was unlike the other maps. It was thicker than parchment, rough and hard, with a faint bloody stench. It seemed to be the hide of some high-tier Demonic Beast. Most of its edges had been torn away, and the torn sections still bore signs of being ripped apart. It was clearly incomplete. Strange patterns had been drawn on it in dark red pigment. The lines twisted and tangled, sometimes resembling dancing flames with a searing tension, sometimes unfurling petals with an eerie beauty. At the center of the chaotic patterns was a blurred mark, incomplete due to the damage to the hide. Yet upon closer inspection, its outline faintly revealed the shape of a lotus, the edges of its petals lined with flame-like patterns. These patterns, this flaming lotus mark, were exactly the same as the Fragmented Map of the Netherworld Demonic Fire he had obtained by chance!

The instant he saw that mark, Xiao Yan felt as though a heavy hammer had slammed into his heart. It pounded wildly, blood rushing to his head as his breathing quickened. Even his fingertips trembled slightly beyond his control. He forcefully suppressed the agitation rising in his throat and handed the Money Pouch to the old man, but his eyes remained fixed on the beast hide as his thoughts raced. The Purifying Demonic Lotus Flame was one of the top three Heavenly Flames in legend. It possessed the terrifying power to purify all things and burn souls, and it was a supreme treasure for refining Ninth-grade Profound Pills. Countless alchemists had exhausted their entire lives dreaming of catching a glimpse of its true form. Across the entire Dou Qi Continent, only a handful knew of its existence, and even fewer could recognize the mark on the fragmented map. This old man before him wore ragged clothes and had a dull expression. He only sold maps for fifty Gold Coin. He most likely had no idea of this beast hide's true value, perhaps treating it as worthless scrap and casually using it to weigh down his maps.

Xiao Yan took a deep breath and tried to make his tone sound casual, as though he were merely asking in passing. He rolled up the map and set it at his side, shifting his gaze away from the beast hide and pretending to organize his Money Pouch. In truth, he was watching the old man's reaction from the corner of his eye. "Sir, what is this piece of beast hide? The patterns look quite unusual. Is it a map as well?" He kept his voice as steady as possible, unwilling to reveal anything unusual.

The old man lowered his head and glanced at the beast hide. A trace of confusion flashed through his cloudy eyes, as if he were recalling where it had come from, or wondering why Xiao Yan had noticed such an unremarkable scrap. He reached out and pushed the hide farther beneath the wooden board, seemingly unwilling to draw attention to it. His tone carried a touch of impatience, along with a hint of casualness that was difficult to detect. "It isn't a map. I picked it up when I was young, in an abandoned stone house deep in the desert. That house was buried under yellow sand, with only the doorframe left. This hide was pressed beneath a stone slab. The patterns looked strange, and it seemed a pity to throw it away, so I kept it to weigh down maps. It isn't worth anything."

"I see." Xiao Yan was delighted inwardly. Just as he had expected, the old man had no idea of the fragmented map's value and regarded it as useless junk. A suitably timed smile appeared on his face, carrying the curiosity and earnestness of a young man. "Sir, I like collecting strange things like this. Whether they are valuable or not, I enjoy studying the patterns on them. This beast hide may be damaged, but the design is truly interesting. Please sell it to me. I will pay whatever you ask. Consider it a favor—let me keep it as a memento."

As he spoke, he took several Gold Coin from the Money Pouch and placed them on the wooden board. The coins collided with crisp clinks that sounded especially clear amid the noisy street. "Would five Gold Coin be enough? If not, I can add more. As long as you are willing to sell it, the price is negotiable." He deliberately acted like a young man who simply enjoyed unusual curiosities, anticipation in his eyes, unwilling to make the old man suspicious.

But the old man waved his hand. His withered fingers pushed the Gold Coin back. The motion was gentle, yet carried an unquestionable firmness. Then he pressed down on the beast hide once more, his fingertips applying slight force as though guarding something insignificant. His tone was a little heavier than before. "I said it isn't worth anything, and it isn't anything good. What do you want it for? Not for sale." His eyes remained cloudy and without ripples, but they faintly revealed a trace of stubbornness, as though he were holding to some unimportant principle. Perhaps the hide was broken, but it was proof of his adventurous youth, and he could not bear to hand it over lightly. Or perhaps he simply did not want to be pestered and felt this scrap was not worth wasting words over.

The smile on Xiao Yan's face stiffened, and his heart slightly sank. He had not expected the old man to be so stubborn. It was clearly just a worthless scrap of hide in his eyes, yet he refused to sell it. Xiao Yan looked at the beast hide, his heart beginning to pound again as fine sweat seeped from his palms. This was a fragmented map of the Purifying Demonic Lotus Flame—the crucial clue to finding a Heavenly Flame and increasing his strength, and perhaps even the hope of curing Xiao Yi Xian's poison body in the future. He absolutely could not miss it.

He suppressed his impatience and softened his tone. Leaning slightly forward, he lowered his posture further. When he spoke again, his voice carried sincerity and an almost imperceptible plea. "Sir, I truly like this beast hide. I am not planning to use it for anything bad, and I am not after its value. I simply think the patterns are special and want to take it home to study them slowly. If you think the Gold Coin are too few, I can add more. Ten? Twenty? As long as I can afford it, any amount will do. Let us call it fate that we met in this small town. Could you grant me this small request?"

The old man raised his head. His cloudy eyes fixed on Xiao Yan for a long moment, his gaze lingering on Xiao Yan's face as though examining his intentions or judging whether he spoke the truth. The wind and sand blew past, sweeping fallen leaves and dust from the ground against the wooden board with rustling sounds. The cries of distant vendors and the neighing of camels drifted faintly over, only making the space before the stall seem stiller. Xiao Yan held his breath and waited for the old man's answer. More sweat seeped from his palm. Only the Purple Gold Winged Lion King beside him occasionally swished its tail, producing a faint sound that broke the suffocating silence.