Sacred Fire Wildfire

The aftershocks of the explosion still reverberated through the carriage.

Dust sifted down from the ceiling, landing on people's hair and shoulders, mixing with sweat into grimy smears.

The entire sixth carriage was in complete chaos.

A mother clutching her child shielded them tightly in her arms, curling up in the corner of her seat with her back to the blast.

An elderly man carrying luggage lost his footing and crashed into the aisle, his forehead striking an armrest hard enough to draw blood.

A young man pressed himself against the window to look outside, his face deathly pale and his lips trembling nonstop.

Cries, screams, the clatter of colliding luggage, and the heartrending wails of children tangled together, pressing heavily on everyone's hearts.

No one knew what had happened.

They only knew that the train had stopped in the middle of nowhere, that explosions were sounding right beside them, and that the stench of death had instantly shrouded the entire train.

On the dirt slope beside the tracks, three gray-black figures stood silently, looking down from above at the silver-white train sprawled across the rails.

The man at the head of the group was tall and gaunt, wrapped in a faded black cloak. His face was hidden in the shadow of his hood, exposing only a bluish-gray chin.

Two people dressed the same way stood beside him. Their auras were sinister, and a faint, nauseating stench lingered around them.

"Though they're only ordinary people and low-level Soul Masters, they'll do."

The Evil Soul Master on the left licked his cracked lips. His tone carried both regret and barely restrained excitement.

He had not absorbed fresh life force in days. To him, the packed passengers in the train were nourishment delivered right to his door.

"Enough nonsense."

The leader's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping over stone, carrying an unquestionable command.

"Second, you take carriages one through three.

Third, you take carriages seven through nine.

I'll take carriages four through six."

His division sounded fair. Each of the three would handle three carriages, and no one appeared to be taking more than the others.

But anyone who took even a brief look at the passenger distribution would see the trick behind it.

The first carriage was the driver's cabin. Aside from the conductor and attendants, there were barely any passengers.

The second carriage was business class, with only a dozen or so seats in total, and they were not even full.

The truly packed hard-seat carriages were all concentrated from the third through eighth cars, with people crammed shoulder to shoulder. They were the richest feeding grounds on the entire train.

The ninth carriage was a backup transfer engine, practically empty, with scarcely any seats at all.

By claiming carriages four through six, the leader had firmly seized the three most densely populated carriages for himself.

What he left his two subordinates were either the sparsely occupied engine cars or the thinly populated rear cars, with pitifully little to gain.

It was exactly like a trick at the dinner table.

A child looked up and asked, "Dad, why do you always eat the fish head?"

The father smiled and patted the child's head. "Because Dad likes fish heads. I'm saving the best fish meat for you."

But the child did not know that what his father had ordered was an entire chopped-chili fish-head dish. There had only been a fish head to eat in the first place.

The two subordinates were clearly accustomed to their boss's style. They raised no objections and merely nodded gloomily.

"Move."

The leader gave a low shout.

The three figures unleashed their martial souls at the same time. Wrapped in gray-black miasma, they swept toward their assigned carriages like three vultures diving upon a flock of sheep.

The wind howled. Wherever the miasma passed, the roadside grass, once lush and green, instantly yellowed and withered, while even the soil turned a dead gray.

Inside carriage six, panic continued to escalate.

Someone shouted, "Evil Soul Masters are here!" and the entire carriage instantly erupted.

People frantically crowded toward both ends of the carriage, desperate to get farther away from the gray-black figure flying toward them.

Several young men near the rear door worked together to pull the handle, forcibly wrenching the emergency door open by a crack.

The wind outside poured in with the miasma, carrying a sickly sweet stench of rot that made people nauseous.

Some had already climbed through the door and fled, scrambling toward the grass beside the tracks.

More people were jammed in the aisle, unable to advance or retreat. They could only watch helplessly as the winged black shadow drew closer and closer.

Despair rose like an icy tide, slowly swallowing everyone whole.

The leading Evil Soul Master landed directly at the front entrance of carriage six.

His feet struck the metal steps with a dull clang.

The screams inside the carriage instantly weakened. Everyone held their breath. Even the wailing children had their mouths tightly covered by their mothers, not daring to make a sound.

"Come out, Miasma Shadow Bat-Owl."

The Evil Soul Master gave a sinister laugh and called out the name of his martial soul.

The next moment, a series of cracking sounds from shifting bones rang out.

His body abruptly grew taller, and his already gaunt frame became even more hunched.

His ears rapidly lengthened and sharpened. Fine gray-black fur sprouted along their edges, trembling softly with every breath.

His eyeballs quickly contracted until they became two vertical slits. His pupils were a murky dark gray, while dense blood vessels crawled across the whites of his eyes like poisonous patterns spreading to the corners.

The clothes on his back tore open with a rip.

A pair of massive membranous bat wings abruptly spread out, spanning over two meters.

The wing membranes were a dull, deathly black, covered in vast patches of mottled gray-brown poison spots like rotting bark.

The wing bones were hard and sharp, their edges lined with dense black spikes that gleamed with a cold, ghostly light. A light flap stirred up a foul-smelling gust.

The skin on his arms visibly darkened, and pale gray web-like poison patterns surfaced, writhing beneath his skin as if alive.

His nails rapidly lengthened and sharpened, finally turning into five black hooked claws that could leave deep scratches in a metal armrest with a casual swipe.

The skin on his neck and forearms became rough and hard, covered by a thin layer of gray fur.

A faint gray-black miasma spread from his body. Even the tips of his hair seemed veiled in gray mist, and the surrounding light dimmed slightly.

A soft hum sounded.

Three Soul Rings lit up beneath his feet.

One white and two yellow, slowly rising and falling.

A Ten-Year Soul Ring as the foundation, with two Hundred-Year Soul Rings supporting it—a standard Soul Elder configuration.

An intense evil aura instantly filled the entire carriage.

"First Soul Skill, Miasma Wind Glide."

The Evil Soul Master let out a harsh cackle as the bat wings on his back snapped open.

His enormous wings beat violently, whipping up a gale filled with miasma that surged toward the depths of the carriage.

Riding the wind, his body shot forward like a gray bolt of lightning, so fast that only an afterimage remained.

The miasma kicked up by his wings swept over the seat armrests on both sides of the aisle, instantly corroding tiny pits into them. The plastic surfaces hissed as white smoke rose.

Outside the window, the already withered roadside grass was blown by the miasma wind and directly turned into fine black ash that scattered away.

The passengers in the front rows had already shut their eyes in despair.

The mother holding her child pressed them tightly to her chest, turning her back toward the Evil Soul Master as she tried to shield them from the oncoming miasma.

Everyone thought they were doomed today.

At that moment, a golden radiance suddenly flared from the rear of the carriage.

"Golden Sacred Dragon Spear!"

Tang Wulin gave a low shout and raised his right hand.

Dazzling golden light erupted from his palm, and a completely golden spear instantly condensed into existence.

The dragon-scale patterns on the spear shaft looked lifelike. Its tip gleamed with a chilling edge, carrying a majestic and tyrannical dragon's might that instantly scattered the surrounding miasma.

A white Ten-Year Soul Ring rose beneath his feet. Though its glow was faint, its power was not to be underestimated.

"First Soul Skill, Golden Dragon Thrust!"

Tang Wulin drove his foot down hard.

The sturdy metal floor caved in slightly beneath his step.

He shot forward like a golden arrow released from its bow, gripping the spear as he charged directly at the Evil Soul Master.

The spear tip tore through the air with a piercing whistle. Golden Soul Power condensed into a single dazzling point at its tip.

The Evil Soul Master had worn a confident, savage grin.

In his eyes, everyone in this carriage was livestock waiting to be slaughtered. There could not possibly be a Soul Master capable of fighting him here.

Only when the golden spear stabbed toward him and he sensed that pure, tyrannical dragon's might did he suddenly realize what was happening. The smile on his face froze, replaced by overwhelming terror.

"How can there be a Dragon Clan martial soul?!"

He screamed and instinctively beat his wings desperately, trying to retreat and evade the strike.

But he had used Miasma Wind Glide to rush forward too quickly. He was moving so fast that he could not stop in time.

The immense momentum continued pushing him straight toward the spear tip.

Tang Wulin had already been charging at tremendous speed, while the Evil Soul Master's reverse wingbeats had not fully taken effect yet.

They were moving in opposite directions, and their relative velocities stacked directly on top of each other.

Momentum doubled with speed, and the force of the spear tip surged in an instant, because momentum equaled mass times velocity.

Squelch—

A dull sound of penetration rang out.

The sharp tip of the Golden Sacred Dragon Spear first pierced the Evil Soul Master's bat wing, then tore through his chest and emerged from his back.

The golden Dragon Power on the spear tip surged madly into his body through the wound like boiling magma.

Ordinarily, this strike could at most have wounded him. It should not have pierced straight through him.

But when the two opposing forces collided, the impact had already far exceeded the limit an ordinary Soul Elder could endure.

The Evil Soul Master's eyes widened abruptly, his vertical pupils filled with disbelief.

He could clearly feel the Soul Power and life force within him draining away at a terrifying speed.

The golden Dragon Power was like the most tyrannical flame, burning through his meridians and corroding his martial soul. Even his miasma was instantly purified completely.

His intense desire to survive drove him into a frantic struggle. He gripped the spear shaft tightly with both hands, trying to pull himself off it.

But the moment his claws touched the Golden Sacred Dragon Spear, they hissed with white smoke. More than half his nails melted away in an instant.

"Ah—!"

His shrill scream lasted only half a cry before cutting off abruptly.

His body visibly turned to ash. Starting from the wound, it slowly became fine black cinders.

Within a few seconds, his entire body had completely scattered into the wind.

His bat wings, Soul Rings, and that foul miasma all vanished without a trace.

Only a few corroded marks on the floor remained, proving that a Soul Elder-level Evil Soul Master had existed there moments ago.

The entire carriage fell silent.

Everyone stared blankly at the boy standing in the middle of the aisle, holding a golden spear.

The boy looked only eight or nine years old. He was not tall, wore that eye-catching yellow-and-purple shirt, and still had childishness on his face.

Yet this half-grown child had killed a Soul Elder-level Evil Soul Master with a single thrust.

Several seconds passed before someone finally came to their senses and began sobbing in relief.

"W-We survived..."

"It's a little hero! This child saved us!"

Suppressed sobs and quiet cheers mingled together. The atmosphere in the carriage surged from the freezing depths of despair into the warmth of survival.

"First Soul Skill, Sacred Fire Wildfire."

A cool female voice rang out from the carriage connection.

Huang Feng'er walked over, her short red hair lifting slightly in the wind, cold light glinting in her golden eyes.

She raised her right hand, and a cluster of platinum flames leaped from her fingertips.

As she activated her Soul Skill, the flame instantly spread outward.

The platinum fire spread along the aisle like a thin carpet of flame, extending toward both ends of the carriage.

The flames were extremely hot, yet strangely harmless to people.

When they swept past the passengers, they brought only a warm sensation and did not even scorch the corners of their clothes.

But the gray-black miasma toxins lingering in the air and on the seats melted away the moment they touched the platinum flames, like ice and snow beneath a blazing sun.

Even the small pits corroded into the floor stopped worsening after the flames swept over them.

More miraculous still.

At the carriage entrance, several blades of grass that had completely withered from the miasma suddenly sprouted fresh green shoots beneath the burning platinum flames.

The yellowed roots regained their vitality, gradually turning green until slender leaves grew from them.

Genesis Flame: burn away evil and be reborn from the ashes.

That was the innate ability of the Sacred Flame Phoenix, where purification and vitality coexisted.

Tang Wulin stood amid the flames, his grip on the spear tightening slightly.

He could clearly feel the Golden Dragon King Bloodline within him begin to stir uncontrollably, as though it had encountered a natural enemy.

Warm blood surged through his veins, carrying instinctive hostility that came from deep within his bones.

Dragon might and phoenix might collided invisibly in the air, throwing even his Soul Power into slight disorder.

He had previously heard Jin Qiu speak of the Dragon-Phoenix War, so he guessed that this was an imprint of the ancient dragon-phoenix conflict carved into their bloodlines.

The war between the Dragon Clan and the Phoenix Clan had continued for thousands of years, engraving vigilance and hostility toward each other into every strand of their bloodline inheritance.

Even now, even though Huang Feng'er was his elder sister and family who had grown up alongside him, the instinct buried deep in his blood still reacted the instant it sensed phoenix flames.

Tang Wulin took a deep breath and silently circulated his Soul Power, suppressing the agitation in his bloodline.

The grudges of ancient times belonged to ancient times.

Now, Huang Feng'er was his family, his companion fighting at his side, and his elder sister.

The instincts of blood could not stand above the human heart.

Huang Feng'er walked to his side and stopped.

She had naturally sensed the fleeting hostile dragon's might from Tang Wulin, but she did not take it to heart.

She glanced at the wild grass that had regrown on the ground, then looked toward both ends of the carriage and spoke quickly in a calm tone.

"Three Soul Elders. One has already been dealt with."

"Of the remaining two, one went toward the front of the train, and the other went toward the rear."

"The space at the front is cramped and packed with passengers, making it suitable for close-range charges."

"The miasma at the rear is thicker, and it'll be easier for me to purify it with flames."

"Wulin, you handle the one at the front. I'll take the one at the rear."

Her division of duties was clear and fit their martial souls perfectly.

Tang Wulin's Golden Sacred Dragon Spear had formidable explosive power in close combat, and its thrusting advantage could be maximized in a confined space.

Her Sacred Fire Wildfire was an area-of-effect soul skill. The rear carriage was relatively spacious, allowing her to clear the miasma over a wide area without easily harming the passengers.

"Got it, sis."

Tang Wulin nodded without hesitation.

He tightened his grip on the Golden Sacred Dragon Spear, and the golden glow at its tip brightened a little more.

There was no need for further nonsense, nor was there time to waste.

Every second of delay meant more danger for the passengers at the front.

He nodded at Huang Feng'er, then turned and rushed toward the front of the train.

The passengers in the aisle hurriedly moved aside, making way for him.

Some whispered their thanks behind him, while others offered him water and towels, but he had no time to take them.

His rapid footsteps struck the metal floor, producing urgent thudding sounds.

In the dim carriage, the golden spear was like a moving beam of light, cutting through the spreading panic as it headed toward the even greater danger ahead.

"Not bad. You actually one-shotted a Soul Elder with a single spear strike. You've improved."

Jin Qiu's voice rang out in the Spirit Sea, carrying a hint of praise.

"But don't get careless. The other two aren't pushovers either. The second one's martial soul is the Corpse Serpent, and it's poisonous. The third one's is the Bone-Eroding Ant, which can summon little bugs. Both are viciously underhanded."

"Don't worry, Big Brother Jin. I know what I'm doing."

Tang Wulin answered in his heart without slowing down.

Tang San's divine sense followed Tang Wulin's departing figure, then turned toward the faint platinum flames glowing near the rear of the train. His brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

He could sense that the Phoenix bloodline was exceptionally pure and high-grade, not an ordinary mutated martial soul.

Thinking of what Jin Qiu had said earlier, he more or less understood.

The conflict between dragons and phoenixes in ancient times was why the Dragon Clan and Phoenix Clan regarded each other as enemies from the very depths of their bloodlines.

The wind at the connection between the carriages was fierce, making it hard to keep one's eyes open.

Tang Wulin held the Golden Sacred Dragon Spear horizontally before him, his gaze sharp.

Faint screams and a rank stench were already drifting over from the direction of Carriage One.

He took a deep breath, then suddenly charged toward Carriage One.