The Fatty's Pure Flame

The Fatty's Pure Flame

Ma Hongjun sat before the roulette's glow, unusually free of wisecracks.

He usually feared silence most.

Once things got quiet, people could easily see how uncomfortable he was.

They could see that the fire within him was not ordinary temper, that most of the time, he did not make a scene because he wanted to—he did it because otherwise, he did not know how to stand among everyone else.

So he always laughed first.

He was the first to call himself greedy, lazy, lecherous, and heartless.

The more improper his words sounded, the harder it was for others to keep questioning him.

But now, he could not laugh.

The shifting lights on the roulette gradually came to a stop.

[Insight-type: Breath-Calming Pure Flame · One Wisp.]

[Effect: When a Fire type or fire-type mutated Soul Master completes an extreme dodge, halts while critically endangered, or rests after battle, they may guide a wisp of pure flame to suppress the restless fire within. Currently only one wisp; it cannot cure the root problem and requires long-term practice.]

It could not cure the root problem.

Those four words were painfully glaring.

Ma Hongjun stared at them for a long time.

Under normal circumstances, he would probably have immediately shouted, "If it can't cure it, why write it so big?" and stirred things up to move past the moment.

But this time, he could not bring himself to do that.

Not curing it was still better than having no path at all.

Oscar said softly, "Fatty..."

But Ma Hongjun smiled first. "As long as it can suppress it a little, that's fine."

He made it sound easy, but his fingers gripped the armrest tightly.

Lin Chuan said, "The Pure Flame has to be triggered in the game. Closing your eyes and standing here won't make it appear."

Ma Hongjun nodded.

He entered his personal save file and started over from the most basic mountain path on Black Wind Mountain.

His control was far inferior to Tang San's and Hu Liena's.

When the first Little Demon charged out, he instinctively wanted to take it head-on. In reality, he was used to overwhelming people with firepower. There was no Phoenix Firewire in the game, yet he still charged forward with the same mindset.

The blade flashed down, and his health bar dropped by a chunk.

Yan sneered. "Fire users don't necessarily have to take every hit head-on."

Ma Hongjun turned and glared at him. "You died pretty fast just now too."

Yan's face darkened.

Tang San spoke up. "Fatty, don't think about winning. What you need to find is that breath. When danger comes, but you don't let it throw you into chaos—that moment may be what counts."

Grandmaster nodded. "Don't deliberately take a hit just to trigger the reward. The system won't recognize that kind of shortcut."

Ma Hongjun took a deep breath.

He faced the Little Demon again.

The first time, he dodged too early.

The Little Demon's slash missed, but he rolled too far away himself, his breathing thrown into a mess.

The second time, he dodged too late.

Half his health bar was cut away. He grimaced in pain and nearly threw the controller.

The third time was even uglier.

He clearly saw the blade coming from the left, but his hand pushed right. His character slammed half his body into a tree trunk, and the Little Demon followed up with a kick that sent him rolling across the ground.

Someone in the spectator area wanted to laugh, but forcibly held it in.

Ma Hongjun laughed first. "Go on, laugh. Doesn't holding it in feel awful?"

Oscar opened his mouth, then ultimately said only, "Survive this one first."

Ma Hongjun cursed and gripped the controller again.

The third time, he was forced beside a tree.

There was a tree behind him and a blade before him. His escape route was tightly blocked.

A night after training suddenly flashed through Ma Hongjun's mind.

That day, his Evil Fire had flared up. He had hidden beside a water vat behind the academy and buried his entire face in cold water. Bubbles gurgled on the surface. He had been almost unable to hold his breath, yet he had not dared lift his head, because the moment he did, he would see Flender standing in the distance, pretending not to notice him.

What he hated most was not the pain.

It was when people clearly knew, yet still had to pretend not to know for his sake.

On the screen, the Little Demon's blade was already falling.

Ma Hongjun suddenly shoved the control.

His character slipped half a step past the blade's gleam.

So close.

It had truly been only a hair's breadth away.

The next instant, his breathing in reality suddenly stopped.

It was not suffocation.

A wisp of exceedingly fine pure flame had pressed down on that fire within him that always wanted to burst out.

Fire suppressing fire.

That wisp of pure flame was neither cold nor powerful. It was like a clean thread of flame drawn from a wildly burning bonfire, gently pressing down on its most restless part.

Ma Hongjun's eyes widened.

His Martial Soul had not changed.

His Soul Power had not surged.

Yet for the first time, he felt that his fire was not rushing to make decisions for him.

"It works."

He said it very softly.

After saying it, even he froze for a moment.

Those two words were too short—too unlike something he would say.

He should have followed them with a joke and blocked everyone's gazes from reaching him. But that wisp of pure flame still rested within him, like a thin thread pinning down even the thoughts that usually flew wildly through his mind.

Ma Hongjun suddenly did not want to pretend he was so carefree.

At least, not for this breath.

Flender heard him.

Standing nearby, the pained expression on his face slowly turned complicated.

Those two words worked better than any explanation.

Flender did not immediately ask how useful it was, nor did he press Ma Hongjun to try again. He merely loosened the hands clasped behind his back, then clenched them once more.

That kid Ma Hongjun had a loose tongue, but when something truly mattered, he became sparing with words.

If he said it worked, then it truly worked.

Zhao Wuji stood to one side and, unusually, did not interrupt.

The Shrek group might joke and squabble normally, but they all knew that Fatty was not trying to save face right now.

Over the years, it was not as though he had never sought solutions. But the Evil Fire involved the very origin of his Martial Soul—how could it be so easily dealt with?

Now, a game and a wisp of pure flame had actually allowed Fatty to see a direction.

Three hundred Gold Soul Coins still hurt.

But that pain suddenly felt a little worthwhile.

Ma Hongjun removed the helmet, his forehead drenched in sweat.

He did not immediately call for another round, nor did he loudly declare, as usual, that he would master it in no time. That wisp of pure flame was too fine; if he became even slightly smug, it would slip away from his senses.

He lowered his head to look at his hands. His fingers were still trembling faintly.

Not from fear.

That moment had been too precious. He was afraid that if he spoke, he would scatter it apart.

Flender saw it and did not urge him.

Master and disciple shared a rare stretch of silence.

Even Oscar found that silence a little unfamiliar.

He was usually the best at responding to Ma Hongjun's remarks, but now he merely stood beside him, holding an unfinished sausage in his hand for a long while without taking a bite.

Some jokes had to wait until the person himself laughed first.

Ma Hongjun tried several more times.

The success rate was very low.

Deliberately taking a hit did not work. Dodging wildly did not work. Thinking about the reward did not work either. Only when he was truly pushed to the brink of danger and could still steady that breath would a trace of pure flame appear.

After failing so many times, Ma Hongjun stopped cursing instead.

He seemed to have finally understood that this was not candy meant to placate him, nor comfort casually handed out by the system. It was tiny and hard to grasp, but every time it appeared, it told him one thing: Evil Fire was not something he could only endure, nor something he could only flee from.

As long as he could train it, it was not a dead end.

No one said those words aloud, but Ma Hongjun turned them over in his heart again and again. The more he considered them, the brighter his eyes became.

He suddenly wanted to enter the game again.

Not to prove himself before anyone, nor for the lottery—he simply wanted to catch that wisp of pure flame again. Even if he failed next time, he wanted to know whether he could get a little closer to it.

Once that thought arose, he felt more grounded instead.

At least he finally had a direction to pursue.

Lin Chuan saw it clearly.

This reward had been given sparingly.

It did not wipe away Ma Hongjun's troubles. It merely lit a very small lamp before him.

Watching Ma Hongjun's back, Ning Rongrong suddenly said, "Support-type Soul Masters can draw things suited to them too, right?"

Lin Chuan said, "In theory, it will adapt to the customer's traits."

Ning Rongrong nodded.

Flender looked at her warily. "Rongrong, wait a moment."

"I'll buy it myself."

"Wait anyway." Flender rubbed his brow. "Too many people have bought out their chances today. My heart can't take it."

A few laughs finally rose in the shop.

Just then, another figure approached from outside.

Yue Guan entered carrying an exquisite brocade box.

He smiled gently, but spoke very directly.

"Boss Lin, the Papal Hall wishes to discuss a long-term arrangement with your shop."

The atmosphere in the shop, which had only just relaxed, tightened once more.