Volume Two, Chapter Fifty-Three: The Art of Fire and Wine

Yu Mu pondered for a moment but sensed no change within himself. Glancing at Meng Fang’s appearance, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Brother Meng, I’m truly sorry, I’ve smoked your face black.”

Fortunately, he had pushed Meng Fang aside just in time; had that breath struck him head-on, it would have been far more than just a sooty face.

Meng Fang paid no mind to his appearance—he was dark-skinned to begin with, and a little more soot made no difference. He wiped his face carelessly, then pointed excitedly at the clay figurine. “Your fire can kill the shadow spirits! Brother, we’re going to strike it rich this time.”

Yu Mu looked at the clay figurine, secretly marveling: What a world, full of wonders. What kind of mind could conceive such an idea? And what kind of craftsman could design this? Using shadow spirits to power clay puppets—a true genius!

“Brother! Brother, wake up—what are you thinking about? Did you hear a word I said?”

“What?” Yu Mu asked, bewildered.

“I said your fire can burn the shadow spirits—doesn’t that mean you can walk unchallenged in the Sacred Tomb? Brother, spit out another breath, let me see.”

Meng Fang’s ox-like eyes widened, his round white eyeballs set against his big, sooty face—a sight truly comical.

Yu Mu barely suppressed his laughter. “Alright, here goes. But you’d better step back.” Only after Meng Fang had retreated did Yu Mu open his mouth and exhale.

Nothing happened.

Meng Fang blinked. “Where’s the fire?”

Yu Mu spread his hands. “How should I know?”

Meng Fang snatched the wine jar from Yu Mu’s hands, only to find it completely dry.

“Brother, do you have any more wine?” Meng Fang was unwilling to give up.

“None left. I finished it back in Tranquil Heart Valley.”

Meng Fang slapped his thigh. “Alas! I was so focused on bringing life-saving tools for this tomb exploration that I actually forgot to bring wine.”

Yu Mu forced a wry smile. “Even if we had more, it might be useless. I’ve drunk plenty of times before, and even spat at that assassin, but never did fire come out. I suspect this has something to do with that particular wine.”

Meng Fang disagreed. “No way. There was only one jar of that wine. Besides, how would you know if other wines won’t work if you don’t try? Hey, what’s that in your hand?”

Having grabbed the wine jar, Meng Fang now noticed the tasseled flute pendant in Yu Mu’s hand. When asked about it, Yu Mu remembered it as well and toyed with it as he replied, “This is an ornament from a spiritual artifact…”

Yu Mu recounted what had happened.

The pendant was immaculate white; the threads from which it was made—he knew not what material—were exquisitely beautiful. Set atop the tassel was a piece of jade shaped like a cloud, faintly warm to the touch.

The tassel was merely a vessel; the jade itself was the true artifact. Unfortunately, it was an auxiliary spiritual item—its true effect would only reveal itself when joined with the flute it belonged to.

Yu Mu felt a pang of regret—a fine spiritual artifact, split in two. Now that the main piece had fallen into the hands of Ye Yun—a sworn rival—it would likely never be reunited in this lifetime.

Meng Fang took the pendant from him. “So you’re saying this is an ornament from a spiritual artifact, and that brat Ye Yun ran off with the main piece?”

Yu Mu nodded. “That’s right.”

Meng Fang suddenly asked, “Brother, has your spiritual energy recovered?”

The question reminded Yu Mu—after all the recent chaos, his spiritual energy was almost fully restored. He wondered what kind of wine that was, since it worked even better than an entire vat of Immortal’s Intoxication.

Seeing Yu Mu nod, Meng Fang said, “Then what are we waiting for?” He pulled Yu Mu up from the ground.

Yu Mu eyed Meng Fang’s sly expression. “Brother, are you thinking…?”

A fierce light flashed in Meng Fang’s eyes as he nodded. “Strike while he’s down! You’ve already wounded him, haven’t you? We can kill him and seize the treasure—two birds with one stone.”

Yu Mu’s eyes lit up. “Excellent idea. Let’s go!”

He transformed back to his human form, grabbed Meng Fang, and stepped through the doorway.

The two searched everywhere, but found no sign of Ye Yun. Instead, they came upon Old Qu, who was in a sorry state himself, hiding in an empty room to recover.

In these chambers, only the puppet-controlling shadow spirits could enter; other shadow spirits were barred. Thus, empty rooms were excellent hiding spots. Unless enemies were involved, no one would bother attacking someone taking refuge within.

The three sat down after taking some spiritual recovery pills, sharing their recent experiences. Their situations were much the same—only Yu Mu had made any gains, while the other two came back empty-handed.

This was not surprising—treasure hunting here was a challenge unless one’s strength was overwhelming. They’d encountered plenty of treasures, but others always beat them to it. Most of the time, they didn’t even qualify to compete.

Now, united, their strength grew considerably. Old Qu’s abilities alone put him at the top of the food chain here—Nascent Soul cultivators and above generally wouldn’t linger at this level, as the rewards simply weren’t worth it.

The era of scurrying like rats was over; the time had come to make their mark. Treasures, here I come! Yu Mu cheered inwardly.

“Brother Qu, do you have any wine?” Meng Fang’s question snapped Yu Mu out of his daydream.

“Of course!” Old Qu produced a wine jar from his robe. “Brother Meng, this isn’t the time for drinking, is it?”

Meng Fang handed the jar to Yu Mu. “Go on, give it a try!”

“Alright.” Yu Mu took a swig and spat it out—but nothing happened.

“My wine can’t be that bad,” Old Qu muttered, feeling wronged.

“Try a few more gulps.”

Yu Mu complied, but the result was the same.

“That’s strange. Is it really only that particular wine?” Meng Fang slumped against the wall in despair.

Yu Mu wiped the spilled wine from his clothes. “Brother Meng, since it doesn’t work, let’s return the wine to Brother Qu.”

“Wait!” Meng Fang studied Yu Mu from head to toe, then suddenly had an idea. “Brother, try it again in your bear form.”

Yu Mu couldn’t help but laugh at Meng Fang’s persistence. With a shake, he transformed into a panda. Instantly, he felt a surge of powerful heat within.

How strong! This is more than just Dao Transformation stage power—at least on par with my true form. What kind of wine is this, with such potent effects?

“What kind of bear are you? Brother Gada, is this your true form? I thought you were a pig?”

Yu Mu ignored him, took another drink, and spat it out. Whoosh—a sea of fire engulfed the room. Looking at Old Qu, his once bushy curls were now completely singed.

Meng Fang burst into laughter. “So only in bear form can you breathe fire! Brother, this is exactly the kind of innate skill an ancient shapeshifter should have. Clinging to someone’s thigh is nothing compared to this.”

“If I hadn’t clung to his thigh, I wouldn’t have gotten half the spiritual artifact,” Yu Mu grumbled inwardly.

Old Qu, rubbing his shiny bald head, asked in confusion, “What are you two talking about? Why are you ignoring me?”

Meng Fang clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. “Brother Qu, don’t ask. Let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“To rob, of course!”

“Rob whom?”

“Anyone we see! Hahahaha!”

“Good, I like it! Hahahaha!”

A bear, a lion, and an ox—their criminal gang was formed.