Green Mountain

The funeral hall was engulfed in layers of fire, with thick smoke billowing.

A house beam blocked the main door, obstructing the path, while three tigers fumbled through the smoke, attempting to escape the sea of fire from other directions.

Outside the funeral hall was the angry roar of Prince Fu, the shouts of the Qi Family, and the increasingly synchronized and loud chanting of the monks from Yuanjue Temple: "The beings of Jambudvipa, their nature is fierce, difficult to tame and subdue. Every thought and action is nothing but sin..."

Amidst the chanting, one tiger staggered as he encountered the Junior Minister of Taichang Temple crying for help. In a moment, he snapped the other’s neck and threw him aside like a sack.

Passing by the coffin of Mr. Qi, already almost burnt to scorched wood, with Mr. Qi inside now a piece of black charcoal.

Next to the coffin lay the half-body of a colleague, the gunpowder had exploded within the chest cavity, leaving him dead beyond doubt.

The tiger instinctively searched for Chen Ji’s trace, but as he squinted and scanned around, he failed to see Chen Ji’s body anywhere.

The tiger became vigilant; even thirty pounds of gunpowder shouldn’t leave no trace at all, and moreover... no Ice Flow.

Every tiger had Ice Flow on them, four East Garden Craftsmen carried it, and two Jiefan Guards who had just turned into tigers also had it. Once they died, the Ice Flow became unowned, to reattach to either a tiger or the Mountain Lord.

When those two Jiefan Guards died, Chen Ji was closest, so the Ice Flow should naturally be attached to Chen Ji.

But now?

The tiger carrying gunpowder had perished with Chen Ji; where had the Ice Flow gone? Could it have been taken by another passing colleague?

He clutched the hairpin tightly, holding his breath to listen for surrounding movements, discarding the cries and chants outside the funeral hall. The fire burned more fiercely, the drapery snapped, the shredded cloth fell aflame, resembling a fiery rain inside the hall.

Yet, he remained motionless.

The next moment, there was a sound from behind.

The tiger swiftly turned around, stabbing the hairpin toward his rear. Just halfway through the motion, his wrist was tightly gripped by someone.

The tiger looked back, locking eyes with Chen Ji, whose eyes burned with a raging fire. More intense than this inferno was the sword seed piercing through his eyes.

Without a word wasted, as the tiger barely recognized Chen Ji, two brass sword seeds penetrated through his eyes, devastatingly shattering everything inside his head.

Chen Ji struck once and retreated without hesitation into the smoke and dust.

A tiger heard the commotion and braved the flames to investigate. Upon arrival, he found only a colleague lying on the ground, eye sockets gaping with blood, staring at the ceiling as if in disbelief.

The tiger scanned the surroundings cautiously, unable to see Chen Ji’s figure. He immediately raised a hand to blow a whistle, summoning the last remaining colleague.

The two scrutinized the shifting shadows within the flames: "Chen Ji isn’t dead; he’s after the dynasty fortune on us... Let’s go, and report back to the Mountain Lord."

Back to back, the two tigers groped their way to the rear of the funeral hall, just as they were about to leap over a wall of fire, the heat wave forced them to close their eyes.

In that instant, two sword seeds suddenly flew out from the flames, directly piercing their faces.

Upon hearing the whistling sound, relying on instinct, they raised hands in mid-air to swat the sword seeds away. But before they could touch the ground, a third sword seed concealed within the flames stabbed into one tiger’s lower back.

The sword seed traveled upward through his hollow chest cavity, slicing the spine section by section, reaching the neck.

The last tiger landed on the ground, looking back to see Chen Ji covering his mouth and nose, meeting his gaze through the wall of fire.

From outside the funeral hall came the monk’s chant: "In the east of Jambudvipa, there is a mountain named Iron Wall. This mountain is deep and dark, without sunlight or moonlight. There is a great hell, named Extreme No Interval. Another hell exists, called Great Abi..."

The chanting and the fire surged together, seeming that the louder the chant, the bigger the worldly fire grew.

The tiger turned to escape, leaping through the burning window. Just as he broke through, three more sword seeds followed like shadows, and the tiger twisted mid-air, kicking them away one by one.

Brass sword seeds were too slow; although the tiger was only halfway into the Seeking Dao Realm, he could still easily trace the sword seeds. Yet, he was delayed, and Chen Ji approached closely.

Chen Ji grabbed his ankle, pulling him back into the sea of fire.

In mid-air, the tiger flipped like a kite, landing steadily, "Why are you still alive?"

Chen Ji remained silent, guarding the window behind him.

A narrow beam snapped and fell between them, while a sconce affixed to a column fell to the ground with a metallic clang.

The tiger picked up the scorching sconce barehanded, his palm sizzling from the heat. He remained expressionless, touched the sconce’s iron spikes with his fingertips, and lunged at Chen Ji.

Chen Ji advanced instead of retreating, and the two collided.

The tiger stabbed the sharp sconce toward Chen Ji’s chest, expecting him to dodge, but Chen Ji merely shifted his body slightly, avoiding the heart.

The palm-length iron spike on the sconce pierced through Chen Ji’s chest. The tiger paused, looked down, only to realize Chen Ji had already grasped his wrist tightly.

The tiger raised his head again, astonished to see Chen Ji still unmoved, the flames in his eyes replaced by the terrified look of his own reflection.

At this moment, as he tried to break free from Chen Ji, it was already too late.

In a split second, the three sword seeds crossed and flew, piercing the tiger’s body from three directions, then penetrating out from three directions.

The tiger-worshipper gradually knelt down, hearing the monks chanting outside the mourning hall:

"The beings of Jambudvipa, through body, speech, and mind, commit various sins. They may kill, steal, indulge in illicit desires, lie, speak frivolously, use evil words, speak with double tongues, and harbor greed, anger, ignorance, pride, and doubt, even committing the five grave offenses and ten evils. The karmic bonds thus formed lead them to hell to endure various torments, with no end in sight..."

The tiger-worshipper knelt before Chen Ji, muttering, "Liberation..."

Chen Ji slowly released his grip on the opponent’s hand, staggering backwards. He pulled out the candlestick embedded in his chest, his breath filled with the sweet, metallic scent of blood, and the stove within him dimmed.

The dynasty fortunes borne by the six tiger-worshippers rampaged wildly within him, comparable to Prince Jing’s royal destiny, teetering on the edge of losing control.

Standing amidst the sea of flames, he couldn’t even feel the heat, instead, a biting coldness enveloped him... This sensation hadn’t occurred since he kindled enough stoves over a year ago.

In a daze, a beam ruptured, crashing down towards his head.

...

...

The massive fire in the mourning hall soared to the sky, thick smoke billowing to obscure the heavens.

Prince Fu struggled to break free from Zhou Kuang, but Zhou Kuang refused to let go, he held onto Prince Fu shouting, "Your Highness, you must not go in, not even an immortal could survive, we cannot afford to lose you too!"

Prince Fu roared, "Let go!"

Zhou Kuang did not let go.

Prince Fu’s eyes were bloodshot, staring intensely at Zhou Kuang: "I command you to let go, go get water to put out the fire!"

Zhou Kuang, seeing those authoritative eyes, instinctively released his grip. Prince Fu no longer rushed into the sea of fire, instead, he ordered the Qi Family to fetch water buckets, drawing water from the peace tank outside the courtyard to extinguish the fire.

But even after exhausting the water in the peace tank, the fire showed no sign of diminishing.

Prince Fu stood dazedly in front of the mourning hall with a wooden bucket, watching as it burned away before his eyes.

The main beams of the mourning hall finally gave way, its roof collapsing into a cloud of smoke and sparks. He raised his sleeve to shield himself, and upon lowering his arm, only ruins remained of the Qi Family’s mourning hall.

The chanting from Yuanjue Temple also ceased together.

Only then did the Fire Armor Soldiers of the Imperial Capital arrive at the Qi Family with more than ten Water Dragon Cars, setting up long bamboo poles to pressurize the Water Dragon Cars, spraying long jets of water into the mourning hall.

Zhou Kuang stood beside Prince Fu, his hands covered in fresh blood, softly said, "Your Highness, it is not suitable to linger here, if there are other assassins, I fear I cannot protect you fully."

Prince Fu, coming back to his senses, tore off a piece of clothing to bandage Zhou Kuang’s injured hands, softly saying, "You’ve worked hard, but I cannot leave yet. Chen Ji died saving me, and I must gather his remains."

Zhou Kuang hesitated to speak, then turned to urgently instruct a Qi Family servant, "Go to the Hu Family on Xuanwu Gate Street and call for help, say His Highness was attacked here!"

The Qi Family servant hurried away, and Prince Fu, without concern for the official robe of Kesi silk still on him, led others to search through the ruins once the fire from the Water Dragon Cars was put out.

As he bent down to move a piece of burned black charcoal, he realized that while the fire was out, the charred wood was still scorching.

Seeing his blistered hands, Prince Fu pondered a solution, and not far off, Qi Zhaoyun noticed, immediately removing her bamboo mourning clothes, soaking them in water, and running towards the ruins.

She ran to Prince Fu’s side, wrapping the damp mourning clothes over his hands, "This will be better."

Prince Fu looked at her weary face, softly thanked her, and resumed clearing the charred wood from the ruins.

Qi Zhaoyun, unable to do such heavy work, had the servants go to the back kitchen to boil ginger soup, while she carried the soup bucket, offering bowls of ginger soup to the Fire Armor Soldiers retreating from the ruins of the mourning hall to rest.

From 5 to 7 AM till 9 to 11 AM, Prince Fu, indifferent to the water squeezed from the Water Dragon Cars soaking him, stubbornly cleared one charred body after another from the ruins.

When the Hu Family’s convoy finally arrived, he still refused to leave, merely instructing everyone to continue searching alongside him. The others had no idea what transpired in the mourning hall, nor whom Prince Fu was desperately searching for.

Chen Ji’s whereabouts remained hidden, known only to Prince Fu and Zhou Kuang.

Nearly the entire ruin was peeled back, aside from Mr. Qi within the casket, charred bodies were lined up beneath the stone steps of the mourning hall.

Zhou Kuang approached Prince Fu, quietly asking, "Your Highness, can you recognize which one is Chen Ji?"

Prince Fu looked at the seventeen bodies on the ground: "These two with dominoes beside them, are the two Jiefan Guards; the Jade Pendant here I recognize, this person is from the Ministry of Rites; this White Jade Hairpin, too, I recognize it belongs to the Junior Minister of the Taichang Temple..."

Some corpses were clearly not Chen Ji due to their size. Others were skinny but too short to be Chen Ji.

Prince Fu cautiously identified each, fearing a mistake, and eventually assembled five bodies similar in stature to Chen Ji, yet difficult to distinguish.

Zhou Kuang softly suggested, "Do you want me to invite someone from the Zhang Family to identify them, perhaps Second Miss Zhang might have a way."

Prince Fu stood up and shook his head, "I should personally go."