Chapter Three: The Deal

This was a shattered realm, where a young man dressed in fiery attire sat cross-legged. Beneath him, a lake of crimson magma churned, the terrifying heat causing the entire space to ripple and distort. Yet the young man seemed utterly oblivious to the temperature’s horror; his gaze rested upon his palm, where an unusual snowflake-shaped mark floated up and down.

“Body of Extreme Cold?”

He frowned, studying the snowflake imprint with eyes full of confusion and doubt. He simply couldn’t fathom why the descendant of that person would possess such a physique—it defied all logic.

After pondering for a long time, the young man gave a self-deprecating smile. At a time like this, what use was it to dwell on such questions?

He casually tossed the blood-red mark into the magma below and raised his eyes to survey the ruined surroundings, his expression dazed and uncertain.

He had never imagined that upon awakening once again, he would find himself in such a scene.

“Yan?”

As he was lost in recollection, a voice tinged with perplexity suddenly jolted him awake.

For millennia since his defeat, aside from his own voice and the bubbling magma, there had never been a third sound in this broken space. Yet just now…

The young man sprang to his feet, his pupils contracting sharply, for at the edge of this fractured realm, a figure had somehow appeared, standing there without his notice.

Staring at the magma lake before him, Liu Pan’s eyes brimmed with wonder. He had only intended to see if he could sense the presence of the artifact spirit, but to his surprise, upon closing his eyes, he perceived an entire space and entered it. Naturally, he saw the figure sitting cross-legged atop the magma.

The shattered space was eerily silent, with the two figures locked in a mutual stare. Liu Pan’s eyes were filled with curiosity, while the young man’s gaze was pure astonishment.

“Hey, tell me, are you Yan?”

At last, Liu Pan broke the uncanny silence. He knew his appearance would shock the young man, but he hadn’t expected him to remain stunned for so long—enough time for a cup of tea to cool—so he had no choice but to speak again.

Yan was the artifact spirit of the Wild Desolation Blade.

“Who are you?” Yan’s voice was calm, as if his earlier shock were merely an illusion. The heat-distorted space made his expression unreadable, concealing whether his inner state was as tranquil as his tone.

“Who am I?” Liu Pan chuckled, not intending to answer that question. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is I know you’re the artifact spirit of the Wild Desolation Blade—Yan.”

As he spoke, Liu Pan pointed with his right hand, stepping into a pose he believed was impressively stylish.

Yet the atmosphere suddenly cooled, for Yan seemed taken aback by Liu Pan’s behavior and did not respond for a long time.

Somewhat embarrassed, Liu Pan withdrew his hand, silently cursing his own pointless words. After all, within the Wild Desolation Blade, there could be no one but the artifact spirit.

“Let’s skip the nonsense. How about we make a deal?” he said, deciding to get straight to the point.

“A deal?” Yan returned to himself, his tone slightly odd.

“Tell me all the martial techniques and skills you know, and I’ll hand you over to a Liu clan descendant with the Furious Flame bloodline. How about it?” Liu Pan grinned, offering Yan the most enticing bargain possible.

To Liu Pan, though the Wild Desolation Blade was in his possession, it was useless, as it refused to recognize him as its master; he simply lacked the qualifications. Thus, it was better to strike a deal with the artifact spirit and trade for what he needed.

He was confident in this transaction. The Wild Desolation Blade, though a sentient artifact, had suffered the erosion of ten thousand years and was nearly ruined. If it failed to find a master and be nurtured, it would soon vanish from the world entirely.

Liu Pan’s proposal was, in essence, a lifeline for the Wild Desolation Blade—precisely what it needed most.

Though confident, the deal proceeded even more smoothly than he’d anticipated. Yan handed over a pile of martial arts techniques with scarcely any negotiation.

Was this really Yan? Liu Pan wondered, for such generosity was completely at odds with the records in the original book.

“Wait, where’s the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art and the Nine Suns Scorching Heaven Blade Technique?” Setting aside his doubts, Liu Pan couldn’t help but question Yan after reviewing the techniques.

Both were skills cultivated by Liu Kuang in the original novel.

When Liu Pan resolved to live an exciting life in this world, the first thing he wanted was the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art, a supreme ancient technique—powerful, awe-inspiring, and most importantly, magnificently flamboyant in battle!

As for the Nine Suns Scorching Heaven Blade Technique, it was the perfect complement to the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art, making for a spectacularly flashy combination. Naturally, Liu Pan coveted it.

“How do you know about the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art and the Nine Suns Scorching Heaven Blade Technique?”

Yan was stunned. Both techniques had been obtained by his original master, Liu Luohan, by chance. Now, with ten thousand years passed, he could hardly believe anyone still remembered them.

Liu Pan opened his mouth, unsure how to respond—he couldn’t very well say this world was just a book, and he its author.

“Guess,” he retorted after a while, tossing out a “perfect” answer.

Yan nearly coughed up blood at this reply. It wasn’t that Liu Pan shouldn’t know about the techniques, but his casual certainty was baffling.

After all, Liu Luohan had never taught these skills to anyone, and after his fall, they should have faded from memory. Now, with countless years elapsed, their appearance in ancient books would already be remarkable, yet Liu Pan named them offhand and seemed to expect Yan to know them. How could that not be puzzling?

“Let’s not dwell on this trivial question. Will you give them or not? Honestly, I came seeking you solely for those two techniques. If you refuse, our deal ends here.”

Resigned, Liu Pan spread his hands, playing his trump card. Thick-skinned as he was, he’d already stipulated that Yan must hand over all martial arts he knew before Liu Pan delivered the Wild Desolation Blade to someone with the Furious Flame bloodline. Yan had not fulfilled the agreement, so he wasn’t breaking his word if the deal ended.

Moreover, Liu Pan knew Yan wouldn’t let the opportunity to find that bloodline slip away; time was running out for Yan.

Hearing Liu Pan’s nonchalance, Yan was speechless for a moment and finally said, “It’s not that I can’t give you the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art and the Nine Suns Scorching Heaven Blade Technique, but I want to know—what do you need them for?”

“Of course, to cultivate them! What else?” Liu Pan replied, perplexed.

“To cultivate? You, yourself?” Yan raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with disbelief as he scrutinized Liu Pan.

“What, is that not allowed?” Liu Pan frowned, thinking Yan’s questions pointless—why wouldn’t he cultivate such formidable skills himself, rather than give them away?

“Probably… not,” Yan said after a pause, hesitating.

Not? Liu Pan was stunned. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and his heart skipped a beat.

“What kind of spiritual body am I?” he asked, anxiety rising.

Oh my, both the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art and the Nine Suns Scorching Heaven Blade Technique were fire-based. As a descendant of the Liu clan, surely he should have some affinity for fire? Liu Pan silently prayed.

“From my observation, you seem to possess a water attribute, and a rare one at that—a body of extreme cold. As for which specific type, I cannot say,” Yan’s words poured over Liu Pan like a bucket of icy water.

In short, one’s physique was their aptitude or spiritual root; with a certain root, one could cultivate matching skills. While cultivating techniques that didn’t match one’s root wasn’t impossible, it would be inefficient and hardly worthwhile.

If the attributes were diametrically opposed, it was utterly impossible.

Water and fire were fundamentally incompatible. For Liu Pan, with a body of extreme cold, to cultivate fire-based skills was pure fantasy.

How could this be? Liu Pan was on the verge of madness. He had thought himself poised to rule this world. Yet even with the Wild Desolation Blade in hand, he couldn’t become its master—and now, not only was the blade useless, but even the martial arts he’d obtained were unattainable.

Yan observed Liu Pan’s frustration and, though he didn’t understand why Liu Pan was so intent on the two fire techniques, he truly didn’t wish to hand them over.

Seeing Liu Pan gnashing his teeth, Yan finally said, “Your aptitude is excellent. Even if you can’t cultivate those two fire techniques, you are destined to reach the pinnacle of martial arts. There’s no need to be so fixated. Besides, there are water techniques comparable to the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art. For example, I know of a man named Yang Feng who practiced a formidable water technique. Though ten thousand years have passed and Yang Feng is long dead, you can seek out the Sky Blue Sword. Its artifact spirit surely knows many water-based skills.”

Yan’s consoling words only made Liu Pan feel more exasperated. As the author, how could he not know these things?

Indeed, in this world, there were more than a few water-based techniques as powerful as the Tyrant Flame Dragon Body Art. Upon learning he had a water attribute, Liu Pan immediately thought of the Sky Blue Sword and its ancient water techniques.

But the problem was—the Sky Blue Sword was a sword!

He had dreamed of wielding a wild blade, flames blazing as he battled across the world, but now he was to wander with a sword, snow drifting like an immortal in exile.

What madness was this?

Utterly despondent, Liu Pan could only sigh.