Spell Aftereffects

Shen Hui looked down at the wolf head that had rolled to his feet.

The wolf head was charred black, its fur burned and curled, its eyes wide open.

The murky eyeballs still held the terror of its final moments, and the whole thing gave off a foul stench.

The Heartfire had burned it from the inside out, turning it to charcoal. Only a thin layer of skin and flesh remained, barely holding the shape together.

He stretched out his foot and stepped on it.

A crisp crack sounded as the wolf head crumbled into a pile of black dust.

Gray smoke rose from the fragments, carrying a burnt, rank odor. A breeze around him swept it away, and it dispersed.

Shen Hui withdrew his foot, lifted his head, and looked up the slope at the headless wolf corpse still twitching.

The linen robe stripped from a dead man still clung to its body, tattered and scorched by the fire, revealing the gray-white fur beneath.

He watched for a moment, then turned and walked down the mountain.

Jingming stood in place, watching Shen Hui approach her with an expressionless face.

Behind him, the wolf corpse still lay on the slope. The flames had died out the moment he turned, leaving only a few wisps of gray smoke rising slowly, soon scattered by the mountain wind.

She suddenly felt a bit dazed.

Just moments ago, she had been thinking of stepping in.

That wolf demon could speak human language, so it must have cultivated some power. It might even have unknown supernatural abilities.

She had even begun to regret it—regretting that she had been too arrogant, that she should have used the Aura Observation Art from the start to carefully examine its Dao Xing.

But before she could figure it out, the wolf demon was already dead.

Dead cleanly, body and head separated, its skull shattered into a pile of black dust.

She hadn't even seen how Shen Hui made his move. She only saw a thin line of fire streak through the air, and then the wolf demon was burning.

That fire... she recalled the inexplicable panic in her heart just now, as if something had scratched at her chest.

Jingming shook her head and couldn't help but mock herself.

She had cultivated the Dao for over twenty years, yet she had been startled twice by a single fire technique.

How ridiculous.

Shen Hui reached her side and didn't stop walking.

"Back to the Temple," he said.

His voice was faint, without a trace of fluctuation.

Jingming paused slightly, suppressed the chaotic thoughts in her heart, and regained her usual composed demeanor.

"Not going to Li Family Village to tell the villagers?"

She said, "The wolf demon is eliminated. They should know."

"No need."

Shen Hui replied without turning his head. "When they see that you and I haven't returned by tomorrow, they'll come up the mountain to check. When they see the wolf corpse, they'll understand everything."

Jingming matched his pace, thought for a moment, and then said, "Then won't they be unable to thank you?"

Shen Hui glanced at her sideways, his eyes as calm as still water:

"I eliminate demons for no empty fame. Just like how Master doesn't allow people to enter the Temple to burn incense."

Hearing this, Jingming turned her head to look at him.

He was walking half a step ahead of her, so she could only see half of his profile. She frowned and looked closely—the face was still the same face, the brows and eyes still the same brows and eyes, but the expression...

She suddenly felt that the person before her was somewhat unfamiliar.

The Shen Hui who was usually all smiles and spoke with a bit of humor now seemed like a different person.

"What's wrong with you?" she suddenly asked.

"Nothing," Shen Hui replied. "A lingering effect of the technique. Nothing serious, it'll fade in two days."

Jingming frowned but didn't press further.

She changed the subject:

"Your fire technique is very powerful. Compared to mine, its might is far greater."

Shen Hui nodded without any modesty: "You practice the Yin Fire technique. It's devious enough but lacks sharpness."

Jingming was taken aback, feeling that the words were blunt to the point of being harsh.

She knew it was the truth, but holding the truth in one's mouth and speaking it aloud were two different things.

She suppressed the slight stir in her heart and then asked, "And what about Third Junior Brother's Civil and Martial Fire?"

"A heretical method."

Shen Hui's tone remained flat, but his words were merciless: "Compared to mine, it lacks versatility."

Jingming suddenly let out a laugh, the sound carrying neither joy nor anger.

If you can't find it by searching the title, try searching by the author—maybe it just changed names!

"You mean to say, we are both inferior to you?"

"Inferior."

Shen Hui answered crisply, without a trace of hesitation.

Jingming let out another laugh, this one short and sharp, as if a breath had lodged in her throat and couldn't escape.

"Is this the real you?"

She studied Shen Hui's calm face, her eyes probing. "Arrogant and self-satisfied, looking down on the world. All that gentleness and humility you usually show—it was just an act."

Shen Hui didn't even glance at her, his eyes fixed on the path ahead:

"Just because I said that your fire methods are not as fierce, domineering, unpredictable, or versatile as mine, you think I'm hypocritical and inherently aloof?"

Jingming shook her head, not answering directly: "You haven't even seen me or Third Junior Brother fight. How can you judge us?"

"I don't need to see."

Shen Hui's tone was calm: "Yin Fire is cold and ghostly, best for ambushes, trapping enemies, and disturbing their minds. Those struck by it often die without realizing it. Am I right?"

Jingming's eyes flickered, a ripple stirring in her heart:

"Correct."

Shen Hui kept walking, moving forward.

"Then let me ask you: if you faced a powerful enemy head-on, could your Yin Fire burn through their protective Sha barrier?"

"No."

"Could it incinerate their physical treasures?"

"No."

"Could it take a life in a single breath?"

Jingming opened her mouth, then said nothing.

Shen Hui, as if expecting her reaction, continued: "Now, consider the Civil and Martial Fire. Civil entanglement, martial refinement—the two complement each other. But since it walks the path of mutual reinforcement, it's destined to balance both sides, never reaching the pinnacle of either. Against ordinary opponents, it's more than enough. But against a fire-attribute expert, this fire shows itself to be everywhere sufficient, yet everywhere lacking."

There was no contempt in his words, but they still stung:

"The three of us may differ in cultivation and Dao Xing, but all our insights and techniques come from the Lesser Five Elements Art. Setting aside the other four elements, at least on the path of fire..."

He paused:

"Neither of you is as good as me."

He finally stopped walking and turned his head:

"This isn't arrogance or rudeness. It's just that with techniques, once you see their foundation, you know how tall they can grow."

With that, he resumed walking, continuing forward.

Jingming stood still, watching his figure gradually blend into the snow curtain, before finally hurrying after him.

The snow was falling thickly.

The accumulation on the mountain path had already buried the ankles, crunching underfoot with every step.

She lowered her head, staring at the trail of footprints ahead, stepping into each one as she chased.

Strangely, though the wind and snow were fiercer now, the flakes falling within three inches of Shen Hui's body seemed to hit something invisible, silently drifting away.

She caught up to him, walking shoulder to shoulder.

"Those words you said..."

"Hm?"

"Usually," she panted, realizing only after speaking that she hadn't figured out what to ask, "do you say things like that too?"

Shen Hui didn't turn his head: "Not usually."

"Why?"

"The usual Shen Hui understands human warmth and coldness, knows words are like blades. But the Shen Hui you see now—his seven emotions and six desires have been burned away by the Heart Lamp. He doesn't know how to hide, doesn't know how to bend."

"Side effect of the technique?"

"Correct," he said. "You asked me just now if this is the real me. Now I'll tell you: yes, and no."

"What do you mean?"

"Some people laugh when happy; some don't show it. Some eliminate evil on sight; some avoid it at all costs. People are made of flesh, blood, and soul, yet everyone has flesh, blood, and soul—so why is everyone different?"

"Why?"

"Because the seven emotions and six desires shape flesh, blood, and soul into different forms. If you used this technique, you'd be no different from me."

He suddenly reached out and caught a snowflake: "So which is the real me? The parts that were burned away, or the parts that were left behind?"

"Neither."

He asked himself and answered:

"Or rather, both."

He turned his hand over, and the snowflakes slid from his palm, falling into the snowy ground, impossible to find again.

"Let's go. Back to the Temple before dark."

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