Cultivation starts with picking up attributes-Chapter 57: Ch-: Let the battle began

The chaos of battle swirled around Tian Shen like a tempest.

Masked figures fell one after another under the combined assault of his group, yet their number seemed endless, each new disciple of the Evil Serpent Sect as determined as the last.

His blade cut through them with the precision of a seasoned warrior, each strike focused, his Qi flowing through the steel like a river of fire.

But despite the carnage, one figure stood untouched.

Zhao Lan.

The Flame Disciple held his ground atop the wagon, his eyes locked onto Tian Shen with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

The blue flame on his staff flickered ominously, casting long shadows that danced like vengeful spirits. His voice, when it came, was cold and confident, reverberating with power.

"You truly are a thread of the old curse," Zhao Lan repeated, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

"The pieces fall into place now. I had suspected as much, but to see it in the flesh... fascinating."

Tian Shen felt a surge of unease, the way Zhao Lan spoke suggested more than just a casual threat.

It was as if the battle they were embroiled in was just a prelude to something far more sinister.

The blue flame on the staff grew brighter, the air thickening with the promise of destruction.

"You know nothing about me," Tian Shen growled, taking a steadying breath.

His sword crackled with energy as he raised it, his body primed to strike.

Zhao Lan chuckled darkly.

"I know everything I need to know, boy. You carry the Exiled Flame’s bloodline, the very same bloodline that corrupted this land long ago. The Flame’s curse lives on through you, and with it, the power to bring this world to its knees."

With a sudden movement, Zhao Lan slammed the staff into the ground.

The earth trembled beneath them, and a massive wave of blue flame erupted from the staff, swallowing the battlefield in an inferno of spiritual energy.

"Do you feel it? The fire of destruction that courses through your veins?"

Zhao Lan’s voice boomed over the flames, his presence swelling like a storm.

"It is inevitable. The Exiled Flame will rise again, and when it does, nothing will stand in its way—not even you."

Tian Shen’s heart raced. His senses screamed at him to react, to dodge, but the flames were coming too fast.

They surrounded him like a storm, their heat unbearable. Yet, just before the flames could consume him, he felt a familiar surge of Qi—a protective barrier enveloped him, shielding him from the worst of the inferno.

Feng Yin stood nearby, her eyes glowing with a fierce determination. She had conjured a barrier of her own—her talismans glowing bright, forming a protective dome around her and Tian Shen.

The flames battered against the shield, but the barrier held firm.

"We can’t let him control the flames."

Feng Yin said, her voice steady despite the growing intensity of the battle.

"If we let him unleash the full force of his power, there will be nothing left."

Tian Shen nodded grimly.

"Agreed. But how do we stop him?"

"We break his staff."

"That thing is a weapon of corruption," Tian Shen said.

"It’s the source of his power."

"Then we destroy it."

The plan was set, and the time to act was now.

Tian Shen charged forward, his sword raised high as he sprinted toward Zhao Lan.

The Flame Disciple didn’t move, but the blue flames surrounding him seemed to bend and warp as if they were alive, swirling toward Tian Shen in a great vortex.

Feng Yin followed closely behind, her talismans swirling in the air like fiery comets, each one aiming directly for Zhao Lan’s vulnerable points.

"You think you can challenge me?"

Zhao Lan sneered, flicking his wrist.

The blue flame responded instantly, wrapping around Tian Shen’s sword, attempting to sear it from his grip.

But Tian Shen wasn’t backing down. His Qi surged, and with a single slash, he cut through the vortex of flames, sending them scattering in all directions.

The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the air, rattling the very foundation of the ground beneath them.

"Impressive," Zhao Lan said, his eyes gleaming with twisted admiration. "But it won’t be enough."

In a flash, Zhao Lan moved, his staff slamming into the ground once again, causing the earth to quake.

From the depths of the fissure, more flame-infused serpents rose—massive, fiery constructs of molten Qi that lunged at Tian Shen and Feng Yin.

Tian Shen’s heart raced as the serpents surged toward them, their jaws wide with the intent to consume.

He sidestepped the first one, his sword cleaving through its fiery body, but the second serpent coiled around him, its molten fangs snapping dangerously close to his throat.

"Feng Yin!"

Tian Shen called, his voice tight with urgency.

Feng Yin, never far behind, unleashed a barrage of talismans, each one crackling with divine energy.

She hurled them in rapid succession, and the serpents exploded in violent bursts of fire, their bodies disintegrating into nothingness.

But the battle was far from over.

The ground trembled beneath them, and the very sky above seemed to twist with the power of Zhao Lan’s corrupted flames.

With each strike of his staff, the land around them was reshaped into an inferno, the very essence of destruction manifesting in the form of roaring firestorms and molten serpents.

"We can’t keep this up," Feng Yin said, sweat dripping down her brow. Her talismans were beginning to flicker, losing their potency under the intense strain of the battle.

"We need to finish this now."

Tian Shen clenched his fists, his mind racing.

He glanced at Zhao Lan, who stood unscathed, a maniacal smile spreading across his face as he reveled in the destruction he was causing.

"You will fall," Zhao Lan declared, his voice dripping with certainty.

"The Exiled Flame will rise again, and you will be its vessel."

But Tian Shen’s gaze hardened. The pieces were falling into place. Zhao Lan’s words were more than just threats—they were a declaration.

The Flame Disciple was not just a servant of the Exiled Flame; he was its chosen instrument, and he believed with every fiber of his being that Tian Shen was nothing more than a stepping stone to its return.

Tian Shen had to prove him wrong.

He gathered his Qi, focusing on the sword in his hand, drawing on the ancient energy of the Flame that had been sealed away for centuries.

The air around him shimmered with heat as his spiritual energy fused with the power of the Exiled Flame.

"Not today," Tian Shen muttered under his breath, taking a deep breath as his sword pulsed with a blinding light.

With a mighty roar, he surged forward, his blade cutting through the flames with unrelenting force.

Zhao Lan’s staff came down to meet him, but this time, Tian Shen was ready.

With a single, powerful strike, he shattered the staff into pieces, the flames that had been swirling around it exploding in a violent burst of energy.

Zhao Lan staggered back, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"No... impossible!"

Tian Shen’s sword pulsed with an otherworldly energy as he advanced on the Flame Disciple, his voice low and dangerous.

"It’s over."

But Zhao Lan wasn’t done yet. With a final, desperate move, he reached into his robes and pulled out a small crystal, one that pulsed with dark energy.

"The Flame is not so easily quelled," Zhao Lan spat, his voice filled with venom. "This is only the beginning."

Before Tian Shen could react, Zhao Lan crushed the crystal in his hand. A dark, swirling vortex erupted in the air, sucking in everything around them, including the remnants of the shattered staff.

Tian Shen’s heart pounded in his chest as he realized what was happening.

"Feng Yin! Move!"

He shouted, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her toward safety.

But the vortex grew stronger, pulling everything into its center.

The world twisted as the vortex expanded, spiraling with malicious intent.

Wind howled like a thousand wailing spirits, and the remnants of the battlefield—ash, weapons, even the charred bones of fallen foes—were drawn into its center.

The sky above darkened, and cracks of crimson lightning danced across the swirling void, painting the heavens in apocalyptic hues.

Tian Shen dug his heels into the scorched earth, his grip tightening around Feng Yin’s wrist. "Hold on!" he growled, his voice barely audible over the cacophony.

But Zhao Lan stood at the heart of the storm, his body suspended midair, blue flames pouring from his eyes and mouth.

His robes billowed violently, the broken staff fragments orbiting him like cursed satellites.

"I offer myself... to the Flame," he intoned, blood spilling from his lips as the dark crystal’s energy overtook him. "Let me be the vessel!"

"Shit," Feng Yin cursed, her voice ragged. "He’s trying to fuse with the Exiled Flame’s essence!"

Tian Shen’s mind raced. He could feel the surge of energy—wild, unbound, and ancient—twisting through the air.

If Zhao Lan succeeded, he wouldn’t just become a threat... he would become a catastrophe.

"We have to sever the link," Tian Shen said, eyes narrowing.

"That crystal was a catalyst—but his body can’t contain the full essence. He’s unstable."

"And if we push him now..."

"He’ll implode."

Without waiting another second, Tian Shen channeled every ounce of Qi into his sword.

The blade shimmered with a brilliant golden hue, pulsing like a second sun. Feng Yin nodded, understanding immediately.

She drew a final talisman from her sleeve—a sealing rune etched with silver ink and laced with spirit-forged thread.

"Ready?"

She asked.

"Let’s end this."

Together, they leapt forward—Tian Shen cutting through the vortex’s pull, Feng Yin casting the talisman into the air.

It burst into radiant chains of light that lashed onto Zhao Lan, binding him in midair.

"Now!"

Feng Yin cried.

With a defiant roar, Tian Shen struck.

The blade cleaved through the flames, piercing Zhao Lan’s chest.

The vortex shrieked, then collapsed with a deafening implosion.

Zhao Lan let out a final, broken gasp. His body disintegrated into sparks.

Silence followed.

And then, just as the dust began to settle, Tian Shen collapsed to one knee, panting heavily.

"It’s over."

He murmured.