Legend of Zixia

Chapter 254 Do you dare to make a move?

As Zixia in the painting slowly opened her eyes, her Dao was finally inscribed.

At that moment, heaven and earth fell silent, even the eternally burning talismanic flames on the ninth level of the Fire Domain seemed to freeze slightly. It was as if an invisible will was awakening from the depths of the scroll, slowly opening its eyes that had been slumbering for countless ages.

An Miaoyi stood to the side, her heart suddenly jolted—she had clearly "sensed" something.

It wasn't an aura, nor was it oppressive; rather, it was a rhythm that was almost like life itself.

The Divine Mark Purple Gold Scroll is gradually "awakening," like an embryo breaking through its shell, its spirituality beginning to emerge.

A mysterious halo flowed across the surface of the scroll, its auspicious light emanating like the morning glow reflecting on snow. On it emerged ever-changing images:
Sometimes it is the beginning of chaos, when all things sprout, plants grow wildly, stars are born, and life flourishes, as if it contains the secrets of the universe's origin;
Sometimes, however, the heavens and earth collapse, the sun and moon are extinguished, all the heavens are turned into scorched earth, the Great Dao mourns, and the sense of destruction that will end everything is pervasive.

Furthermore, illusory figures appeared, as if ancient gods were sitting cross-legged in the void, uttering true words and expounding profound truths, with each sound wave transforming into runes imprinted on the scroll.

Finally, all the images returned to calm, transforming into beautiful and mysterious patterns that meandered across the scroll like the veins of a galaxy. The entire scroll then sublimated, bursting forth with a radiant purple light, as if a scripture had descended from the celestial realm.

Countless drops of light fell, gentle and harmless, yet imbued with an aura of spiritual connection and near-immortality. Each drop of light was like a tiny seed, rippling across the ground with a Daoist rhythm, as if capable of awakening dormant souls.

"Is this the ultimate mystery of the Divine Mark Purple Gold?" An Miaoyi murmured, her eyes filled with shock. "It's heaven-defying, almost immortal... It can actually capture the mysteries of heaven and earth."

At this moment, as her soul merged with the Divine Mark Purple Gold Scroll, Zixia saw a glimpse of the true form of the Immortal Fire Rune.

In an instant, the scroll trembled slightly, and it began to imitate the talisman.

In a short while, the scroll glowed and the scene reappeared. A small bird leaped lightly, reborn from the flames, resembling a divine phoenix. Its entire body was woven from burning runes and Dao principles, and each feather was like a blade of flame formed from the Great Dao. A tree flame less than a meter tall stood quietly, its branches twisted like bones, rustling as if whispering ancient secrets. The bird perched on a branch, chirping clearly, and the intense heat emanating from it made even the air distort slightly.

Then, a strange scene unfolded: the fiery landscape surrounding Zixia gradually appeared on the scroll. The dark blue flames of the ninth level, the shattered space, and the surging nine-colored mist were all absorbed and copied by the scroll, appearing in perfect detail, indistinguishable from the real fiery landscape.

Her newly crafted artifact is actively "inscribed" with this world—not simply recording it, but using the spiritual nature of the Divine Mark Purple Gold to meticulously inscribe the laws, temperatures, and Dao rhythms of the Fire Domain into the scroll. Every flicker of flame, every tremor of a rune, is captured, analyzed, and transformed into the scroll's own intricate patterns.

As the inscription deepened, the world within the painting became more and more complete, and even began to "feed back" to reality—wisps of eerie blue fire emanated from the edges of the scroll, entwining around Zixia and merging with her aura, as if the world within the painting was quietly becoming a domain she could control.

An Miaoyi's pupils contracted slightly: "It's not just recording... it's 'copying' a world."

Zixia gazed at the painting, her eyes deep: "No, it is—gestating."

"This scroll is no longer just a tool; it will become a treasure for all the heavens and myriad worlds!"

With the help of the unique properties of the Divine Mark Purple Gold Scroll, Zixia has completely mastered the space of the Fire Domain. She knows every inch of the laws of this forbidden land like the back of her hand, as if the Fire Domain itself has become a page in her scroll.

She simply raised her hand and casually traced a line in the air with her fingertips—

In that instant, the scroll trembled slightly, and the world within the painting resonated with reality. A crack appeared in the air, followed by a surge of clear and pure energy, carrying the fragrance of grass and the moisture of morning dew, a stark contrast to the scorching heat of the Fire Domain.

That was the air from the mountains and fields of the southern region outside.

She used the painting as a guide to tear open a passageway through the space. There was no roar, no ripples, as if she were simply turning a page of a book.

The next instant, the two figures vanished silently into the ninth level of the fiery hell, as if they had never been there.

Only the tree flame flickered slightly, and the phoenix let out a low cry, as if sensing something, but then fell silent again.

It was another moonlit night, the clear moonlight shining down, the world bathed in its pure glow.

Zixia and An Miaoyi strolled through a grand cultivation city controlled by the Yao Guang Holy Land. Located on the southern border, this city, named "Yunxu," was nestled against mountains and beside water, with its buildings scattered amidst swirling spiritual mists—a rare and prosperous place in the southern region. While not as vast as the Central Divine City, it still attracted cultivators from all directions, its bustling markets and profound Daoist atmosphere filling the air.

The two did not use any magic on this journey, choosing instead to walk slowly, as if they were ordinary women traveling through the mortal world. Zixia, dressed in purple robes that fluttered in the wind, had a serene gaze, as if she had seen all the mountains and rivers; An Miaoyi, dressed in white like snow, had a faint Buddhist light emanating from her, as serene as a lotus in bloom. The two strolled through the streets and alleys of Yunxu City, enjoying the scenery along the way, with flickering lanterns and ethereal music playing softly. Until they came to a tavern perched on a cliff, and leaned against the railing to rest, they suddenly overheard the cultivators at the next table whispering among themselves, their tone filled with doubt and apprehension.

"Have you heard? Ye Fan made a move in the Northern Region! He publicly killed Zi Tiandu, the young master of the Divine Spirit Valley, without even leaving a trace of his soul!"

Upon hearing this, Zixia lightly tapped the rim of her cup with her fingertips, a slight smile playing on her lips; An Miaoyi lowered her eyes and remained silent, yet she too quietly focused her attention.

The two exchanged a smile—this was the news they had known a few days ago, but due to the remoteness of the Southern Region, news was slow to arrive, and it was only now spreading like ripples to this place.

"Really?" another person frowned and questioned. "Zi Tiandu is an ancient royal family with noble blood. It is rumored that he has already touched the threshold of the Dao Severing Realm. How could he have fallen so easily?"

"Absolutely true!" The man lowered his voice, his expression solemn. "The entire Northern Region is buzzing with the news that the Holy Body has returned, and his battle has astonished the world! Even the Golden-Winged Roc King was defeated. Tell me, isn't he incredibly powerful?"

Before the words were finished, a cold laugh suddenly came from the corner: "You're still talking about Zi Tian Du? That's so outdated."

Everyone was taken aback and looked at the speaker—an old cultivator in a gray robe, with a withered face but a glint of light in his eyes.

He slowly rose, his voice like iron striking the ground: "No more than a day after Ye Fan killed Zi Tiandu, the Divine Spirit Valley shone with boundless brilliance, piercing the clouds! A divine thought emanated from the valley, shaking the mountains and the earth, like a thunderclap from the heavens—"

He paused, then said, word by word:

"To avoid implicating the innocent, the Holy Body of the Human Race kneels down to beg for forgiveness!"

The tavern fell silent instantly.

The wind stopped, the lamps flickered, and even the distant celestial music seemed to abruptly cease.

"What?!" someone exclaimed in shock.

The old cultivator nodded coldly: "These words have shaken the world. This is a blatant declaration of war! Ye Fan killed their young master, how could the Divine Spirit Valley let this go?"

He surveyed the crowd, his voice growing increasingly chilling:

"Anyone who dares to protect the Holy Body, regardless of who they are or what kind of power they are, will be uprooted and exterminated."

The old man glanced around and saw that everyone's expressions had changed drastically. Just moments before, they had been excited because Ye Fan had killed Zi Tiandu, but now they were all filled with solemnity and bewilderment. Some lowered their heads and remained silent, while others exchanged glances, their eyes filled with fear—even human cultivators couldn't help but feel apprehensive in the face of the wrath of the ancient royal family.

He snorted coldly, released a little divine power from his hand, and lightly slapped the table with his palm.

"boom!"

The wooden table was not broken, yet it hummed and vibrated, the wine glasses jumped, and the lamplight flickered.

"Guess what?" The old man's voice suddenly rose, his eyes blazing. "Ye Fan not only showed no fear, but also no intention of backing down! He heard that the Divine Spirit Valley had spread its message throughout the world, demanding that he kneel down and beg for forgiveness—haha, do you think he responded?"

He paused, a wild laugh spreading across his lips, and spoke each word with resounding force:

"What is God Valley? It's nothing but trash!"

As soon as this statement came out, everyone in the audience was shocked.

That tone wasn't provocative, but utterly contemptuous!
The old man continued, "He sat in the Holy City of the Northern Region, bathed in moonlight, and sneered at the heavens and earth: 'I'll sit right here and wait for you to come and kill me!'"

He suddenly stood up, as if he had transformed into Ye Fan, his voice booming like thunder:
"Do you dare to lay a hand on me?!"

(End of this chapter)