In the blink of an eye, Xiao Yan had lunged over to the carriage. The enormous bronze bell lay quietly among the miscellaneous cargo, its ancient bronze body mottled with green rust and steeped in the weight of history.
He vaulted onto the carriage bed and pressed both hands against the cold bell. The urgency rising from deep within him drove him to roar inwardly almost on instinct.
Teacher! Lend me some fire! Hurry!
As he shouted inwardly, Xiao Yan pressed his ring-bearing right hand firmly against the bell. Within the ring, Yao Lao's resident soul was taken aback by the sudden request. Burn a bell? What was this brat up to? A battlefield changed in an instant. What use could he have for a scorched bell?
Though full of doubts, Yao Lao sensed the resolve and anxiety in Xiao Yan's soul fluctuations and chose to trust his disciple without reservation.
"Ah, fine, fine. I'll join you in this madness just this once, you little rascal!"
A soft sigh sounded in Xiao Yan's heart. The next instant, a wisp of pale white flame slipped silently from the pitch-black ring like a nimble little snake.
The flame seemed to give off no heat, even carrying a trace of bone-piercing cold. It was Yao Lao's Bone Spirit Cold Flame. When it touched the bronze bell, it made no sound at all. Before it, the hard metal melted as easily as warm pork cracklings.
Delighted, Xiao Yan dared not waste a moment. He immediately guided his right hand in a swift circle across the top of the bell. The Bone Spirit Cold Flame followed close behind, leaving a deep, smooth groove wherever it passed. The entire process was impossibly fast, without the slightest smoke or scorching. Just then, a staggering figure rushed to