As expected, Zhao Xunan harvested a bounty of aged spiritual herbs within half an hour of ascending the mountain.
Not only did he find century-old wild ginseng in hidden nooks, but patches of indigo, chickweed, and self-heal blanketed the slopes—so lush they seemed cultivated. The narrow, unusually flat stone path beneath his feet further piqued his suspicion.
As he pondered, rustling sounded from the woods. A group of herb-gatherers emerged, baskets strapped to their backs and small hoes in hand. Startled by the sight of a armored warrior with a longsword, they froze.
After a long silence, Zhao Xunan clasped his hands. "Greetings, folks. Didn't expect such remote hills to have medicine growers."
The eldest among them returned the gesture. "Not too remote—we've lived here for generations. Red Clay Ridge's herbs are famous in the Western Frontier towns of Great Qin."
"But fog shrouds the ridge. No one finds their way in without a guide. You're the first outsider we've seen."
Zhao Xunan's brow lifted. This was new to him—no mention of such fog in ancient legends. But it offered a lead. "Do any of you know where the earth-fire burns here? Or where the heat never fades?"
The eldest shook his head. "The whole ridge has hot springs, but no earth-fire. We've never seen it. Elders say it's in the 'White Head' direction—" He pointed to a snow-capped ridge, "—but that's where demons dwell. Even looking brings curses. We dare not go."
Without waiting for a reply, the group slipped back into the woods, vanishing as if swallowed by the mist.
Zhao Xunan frowned. Their words reeked of evasion. Yet the White Head's legend of demons piqued his curiosity. If the Six Ding Divine Fire lies there, it's worth the risk.
He trekked on, his divine sense sweeping twenty zhang in all directions. He found more herb fields and two century-old specimens—one a blazing red lingzhi, its spiritual energy thick as mist. He raised his knife but hesitated. These are well-known to the locals. Taking one would be theft.
He pressed on, climbing higher until the heat faded. By the time he reached snow, dusk had fallen. Wind howled like a banshee, biting through his robes. At the summit, the gale ceased abruptly.
Before him stretched a vast lake, its dark blue surface mirror-smooth, reflecting the moon. Zhao Xunan's pulse quickened. A lake atop a volcano? The Six Ding Fire must lie beneath.
He swam down, but the water grew colder, the darkness impenetrable. By the time he surfaced, he was gasping. The cliffside was gone; instead, he stood at the edge of an ancient well, surrounded by villagers drawing water. They ignored him, as if he were invisible.
The air smelled of burning, and smoke curled from chimneys. Zhao Xunan entered a blacksmith's shop, where an elderly man hammered red-hot metal. The flames glowed purple—not ordinary fire, but something… off.
He checked dozens of forges, all with the same purplish flame. Disheartened, he climbed a hill to watch the smoky expanse. As the moon set and the sun rose, the world shifted. The villagers' movements grew crisp; the forges' clatter sharpened.
He'd merged with the secret realm.
"Hey, mister!" A voice called. "Get down from there—you're blocking the chimney!"
Zhao Xunan turned to see a white-haired blacksmith gesturing at him. Embarrassed, he jumped down and bowed. The man scoffed, "Acting like a child, blocking chimneys. Disgrace!"
Laughter erupted from the crowd. Zhao Xunan fled, brushing dust off his robes. Time to go. Ma Lan's waiting.
But where was the Six Ding Fire? As he wandered, a voice whispered, "You're looking for me, aren't you? I'm Dingchou, part of the Six Ding."
Zhao Xunan spun. A woman stood before him, her form shimmering like fire. She smiled. "I'm Dingchou. We Six Ding scattered when the Celestial Realm fell, but we'll be reborn here."
"Wait—you know me?" Zhao Xunan's mind raced. Five-thousand-year-old memories… Could this be the same Dingchou?
"Of course. You were the boy with short hair and a jacket. I've missed you." Her voice softened, like a mother's caress.
Zhao Xunan's throat tightened. "We… knew each other?"
"Of course. But you've forgotten much. Even the Heavens can't unravel all rebirth's knots."
"Tell me about the past."
Dingchou shook her head. "No. Forgetting is a gift. One day, when you transcend the laws of Heaven, you'll remember."
She pressed a flame to his forehead. "This is why Six Ding differs from Nanming—our fire heals, it doesn't destroy. That's what you taught us long ago."
Her form dissolved, leaving a warm glow on his brow. "We're but a drop of blood now. When we reunite in the heavens, I'll tell you more."
Days passed in a blur. Zhao Xunan leapt from the clouds as the secret realm erupted—a sea of fire consuming everything. He plunged into the blue lake, surfacing to find the night as it had been.
But a golden mark on his brow and a flicker of fire in his palm proved the vision real. That was no dream.
As dusk fell again, Zhao Xunan gripped Tianji. Whatever the past, I fight for today.