Chapter 8: Destiny's Pattern

The migrating main force did not pause or hesitate, no longer moved by those who protected their rear. They swiftly advanced toward the Xuanwu Kingdom.

Facing the fire beasts, Wang Lin’s expression darkened; these creatures struck ruthlessly, and even being pierced by his longsword did not kill them. Yet, unintentionally, Wang Lin swung his flying sword, and the longsword suddenly struck the fire beast’s brow. Immediately, the beast’s head exploded.

Wang Lin exhaled in relief—once their weakness was known, everything became manageable. He shouted loudly, “Attack the fire beast’s brow!”

Hearing his command, the others acted without hesitation, striking toward the beasts’ foreheads. Some, however, didn’t take Wang Lin’s words to heart—the shell he wore belonged to Ma Liang, after all. As the disciple of Fang Zhiyi, the strongest figure in the entire Fireburning Kingdom, Wang Lin’s reputation surpassed that of many minor sect leaders.

Because Fang Zhiyi refused to intervene, many bore resentment but dared not act, as they were no match for her. But Wang Lin, as her last disciple, was less fortunate. The saying goes: a debt owed by the father must be paid by the son; once a master, always a father. Since Fang Zhiyi chose not to act, she would have to experience what it meant to lose her final disciple.

A few eyes remained fixed on Wang Lin, never glancing at the fire beasts. Waiting for the right moment, they prepared to strike him. Gradually, they formed a silent encirclement, trapping Wang Lin in the center. What they did not realize was that Wang Lin had long sensed their intentions.

Clutching his longsword tightly, though still battling the fire beasts, Wang Lin no longer let go of his weapon. He shifted his stance, ready to counterattack at any moment.

The fire beasts appeared endlessly, countless in number. No matter how many were slain, they fearlessly surged forward. This wave of beasts was fiercer than any before.

The cultivators fighting the beasts ahead were overwhelmed, oblivious to the situation behind them. Wang Lin’s eyes gleamed—now was not the time to deal with these people. The true enemy was the fire beasts before them.

---

Earlier, when Wang Lin fought the fire beasts, he was forced backward. Dodging their attacks, he subtly advanced. Unexpectedly, these people lacked such patience and quickly surrounded him.

Wang Lin eyed them warily, gripping his sword tightly. “What are you planning?”

“To take your head. But remember, this is all because of your master’s refusal to help!”

...

Fang Zhiyi stood atop her carriage, her expression uneasy.

The scene before her was magnificent. Under the radiant sun, dust danced, sparkling with golden light. The cultivators’ feet pressed down on various magical instruments, each emitting different glows. These instruments tinted the surrounding clouds with myriad colors—such a spectacular sight was rare.

At this moment, the spiritual energy fluctuating in the world reached a terrifying intensity.

Yet Fang Zhiyi anxiously rubbed her fingertips. Though all were natives of the Fireburning Kingdom, sect conflicts and rivalries among cultivators were common.

But now, the entire kingdom seemed bound together as tightly as a hemp rope, desperately seeking survival.

Fang Zhiyi knew the appearance of peace was deceptive. Once they reached the Xuanwu Kingdom, a great battle awaited. Land disputes were common, but such a mass migration of a third-tier cultivation kingdom into another was rare. Without Fang Zhiyi, the strengths of the Fireburning and Xuanwu Kingdoms were evenly matched; the question of who would dominate was only a matter of time.

At first, when they learned of the migration to Xuanwu, nobody panicked. With Fang Zhiyi, a formidable Nascent Soul cultivator, present—even though she said she would not intervene—they felt reassured.

They did not believe her at first, but after the fire beast riots, they realized she was serious.

---

The sounds of fire beasts grew louder behind them as their escape from the Fireburning Kingdom quickened.

At that moment, Fang Zhiyi’s longsword began to tremble. The hilt seemed to wail mournfully—through all these years, Fang Zhiyi had never seen her sword react this way.

Fang Zhiyi furrowed her brow, forming a hand seal with her jade-white fingers. Her expression grew solemn. After a long moment, she lowered her hand, gripping the sword firmly to steady it.

Turning, she looked at Feng Luan. “I have some matters to attend to. You all go ahead. Be careful.”

Before Feng Luan could respond, Fang Zhiyi rose and vanished in the blink of an eye.

A wave of panic swept through her heart. Earlier, she had calculated Wang Lin’s fate. Whether the Fireburning Kingdom’s migration or the volcanic eruption and fire beast uprising, none should affect him.

But just now, Wang Lin faced a blood calamity; for a moment, it seemed he would fall, then suddenly he was safe again. This cycle repeated, leaving Fang Zhiyi puzzled.

One’s fate was decreed by the heavens, as though written in a book from birth with an unchangeable ending.

Those who dared defy fate risked divine punishment, and those closest to them would suffer as well.

Fang Zhiyi had experienced this personally—defying heaven meant losing what one held most dear.

She did not know what had altered Wang Lin’s destiny. If fate could be changed, then she...

With this thought, Fang Zhiyi quickened her pace. She had to see for herself what was happening to Wang Lin.

...

A cultivator wielding an axe sneered, “Looks like your master never taught you anything worthwhile. As expected, she’s a selfish coward!”

“Exactly! We’ve served her well for years, and now in danger, she hides like a turtle.”

“Don’t worry, your master’s end is near. Just wait down there; soon she’ll join you!” With that, he raised his axe high.