Northern Lands, gateway where three provinces met, Lingwu City, Meng Family Manor.
The north wind sighed, and the autumn air was crisp.
A morning of white dew had tamped down much of the oppressive heat from recent days. People came and went through Meng Family Manor, yet everything remained in perfect order, like a miniature city. Its defenses were even more stringent, with countless skilled experts within.
In an exquisitely appointed little courtyard in the western district, Yu Changkong's tall, burly frame stood like a demon god. Arms folded, his expression cold, he watched a temporarily excavated small arena some distance away, roughly a hundred square meters in size.
Half of it was lined with burning charcoal, glowing crimson. This charcoal was also made from a special material; each fist-sized piece could burn continuously for a month, and the fire energy contained within was exceptionally tyrannical and fierce.
The other half was covered in ice. This ice was no ordinary block of frozen water, but had been excavated from the Arctic Ice Plains, cut into pieces of equal size, then arranged in a special formation, radiating a grim and bitter chill.
Zhao Rulíng, transformed into the form of a rough, brawny man, floated cross-legged in midair amid the ice and blazing fire. Profound Yin Yang Dao Rhyme shifted around his body. With every reversal of yin and yang, Zhao Rulíng let out a muffled groan of pain, his body flooded with a fierce heat and yang energy that he found difficult to suppress.
Nearly a month had passed since they came to the Meng Family seeking help.
At first, Yu Changkong had been worried that the Heavenly Demon Palace Lord would follow their trail and pursue them here. When that happened, they could use the People of the Meng Family