One sweep of the fan dispelled the yin lightning.
Cheng Xinzhan felt no particular pride, only relief that he had arrived at the right moment.
Had he come a step later, Zhaoming's life would naturally have been safe, but he would probably have suffered grievous injuries. In this age of great contention, if he entered seclusion to recover, the world might have changed completely by the time he emerged twenty or thirty years later. This naturally mattered little to those devoted to quiet cultivation or living in seclusion, but Cheng Xinzhan was certain that Zhaoming would regard missing this struggle as a lifelong regret.
Fortunately, he had made progress in the Void Arts. Traveling down the Central River from White Cloud Mountain, he had just passed Tiger Gate when he noticed the commotion here. Only upon drawing closer did he discover that Zhaoming was trapped, with yin lightning falling toward him. He had crossed the final stretch through the void to arrive in time.
Besides, the demon ancestor of Wumeng Mountain's Feather Fan proved unexpectedly useful. He had certainly picked up a bargain there.
"Who are you?!"
The Fourth Realm demon in front of Cloud Ladder Mountain demanded.
Cheng Xinzhan did not answer. He merely summoned the Red Gourd, removed its stopper, and poured molten fire onto the Demon Web imprisoning Shen Zhaoming behind him.
The Demon Web was plainly a thing of Yin Ghosts. Against such a thing, neither Immortal Fire nor baleful fire was necessary. Pouring golden Yang Fire over it would suffice to repel the enemy.
Cheng Xinzhan had used Yang Fire since the beginning of his cultivation, but spiritual fire was like a Dharma Treasure: the same thing could produce effects as far apart as heaven and earth when wielded by different people at different cultivation