Unintended Immortality-Chapter 533: Sights of Terraflame Kingdom

Before them stretched a land consumed by fire.

Unlike the Qingtong Forest that had burned half the sky red that night, the flames here did not spread as wildly. They did not burn as fiercely, and certainly lacked the dominance of the phoenix’s divine fire.

Instead, the fire covered only a few dozen li of land, and it was ordinary fire—not supernatural in nature. Yet, there was nothing visible for it to burn. The flames seemed to rise from the ground itself, appearing out of nowhere.

Upon closer inspection, the ground was riddled with cracks and hollow openings. It was from these fissures and voids that the fire emerged, as if it truly came from beneath the earth.

Through the wavering heat, outlines of stone buildings and a city could faintly be seen beyond the flames.

“There’s no firewood,” Lady Calico observed as she stared ahead. Then she turned to look at the Daoist. “This place breathes fire, just like me.”

“...”

Song You said nothing. Instead, he raised his staff and swung it lightly.

“Whoosh!”

The flames in front of them parted instantly, as if yielding to make way.

Without hesitation, the Daoist stepped forward into the burning land. The jujube-red horse followed, swaying slightly as it walked, the bells on its harness jingling softly.

A wave of scorching heat surged forward, almost as if trying to roast them alive.

The Daoist exhaled lightly, and the temperature dropped to a fraction of what it was. Lady Calico padded at his side, her sharp eyes darting left and right, examining the fire’s origin.

Having studied fire-based spells for years, she had developed a strong understanding of its nature. Moreover, after countless days spent helping the Daoist gather wood and tend flames, she had ample experience in all things fire-related.

Even with her small feline mind, she could tell where the fire was coming from—she just couldn’t understand why.

Her expression turned thoughtful, and from time to time, she turned to glance at the Daoist, as if the answer was written on his face.

But Song You simply kept walking.

Before long, buildings and stone walls appeared before them. Most of the structures were built into the mountains, as if forged into a fortress.

As they drew closer, the details became clearer.

This was once Terraflame Kingdom.

Calling it a “kingdom“ was an exaggeration. It was small—probably no bigger than an ordinary city in the southern regions of Great Yan. Its population had been far fewer as well.

Of course, now, there was no one left at all.

From a distance, faint figures could be seen hiding within the ruins—spirits and creatures seemingly unafraid of fire. They peeked cautiously from stone doorways and windows, watching the approaching travelers. But the moment they sensed the Daoist’s power, they swiftly withdrew their heads and vanished into the depths of the ruins, hiding who knew where.

Song You paid them no mind.

According to Prefect Zhang, Terraflame Kingdom had originally been a nomadic kingdom established deep in the desert. It was built atop underground fire altars, and anywhere the city had cracks or openings, flammable gases would seep out. Many areas had flames that burned year-round, undeterred even by rain. The locals used these fires for cooking and roasting meat.

Over time, more and more people traveled there, marveling at the phenomenon, and so it became known as Terraflame Kingdom.

For a time, Terraflame Kingdom had flourished.

But over a hundred years ago, a certain kingdom in the Western Regions not only refused to acknowledge the authority of Great Yan and failed to pay tribute, but even went so far as to murder Great Yan’s envoys. In response, Great Yan, enraged, launched a military campaign, passing through this land on their way to war.

By custom, any vassal states along the army’s path were obligated to provide supplies. However, Terraflame Kingdom, believing the Western Regions to be too distant and that Great Yan had dispatched only a little over ten thousand troops, did not take the conflict seriously. Furthermore, given Great Yan’s history of frequent defeats in foreign wars, the rulers of Terraflame Kingdom doubted their chances of success.

Unwilling to offend the powerful Western kingdom and confident in their unique terrain—which allowed them to use underground fire gases for defensive warfare—they refused to provide the Great Yan army with supplies.

Unfortunately for them, the Great Yan army had a skilled strategist who could read the heavens.

At that time, this region was not yet as dry as it was now. The deep desert still experienced occasional torrential storms.

When heavy rain fell, the fires of the Terraflame Kingdom were suppressed. Great Yan’s forces then broke through its defenses, nearly wiping out the city’s population. From that moment, Terraflame Kingdom began its decline.

It wasn’t until several decades ago that people began inhabiting it again.

In the past, although the region had underground fires, they were never as widespread as they were now. The flames had been contained to certain areas, manageable and even beneficial to the inhabitants.

But this year, perhaps due to the extreme drought, the earth cracked open in countless places, releasing fire-bearing gases from beneath. The flames spread, engulfing the entire kingdom.

When a single spark ignited the gases, Terraflame Kingdom was transformed into a sea of fire.

No one knew how many had managed to escape.

Song You continued walking forward, entering the ruins.

Every wooden structure had been reduced to ash—only stone remained. Wherever he walked, the flames receded, only to reignite once he passed.

This had clearly been a Buddhist city.

Stone-carved Buddha statues and stupas stood among the ruins. The walls were adorned with intricate reliefs of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, as well as floral patterns, Buddhist inscriptions, and scripture engravings.

Many had clearly not managed to escape in time.

Those near the fire vents had been burned to charcoal, leaving only blackened imprints on the ground. Those farther from the flames, but still unable to flee, had been slowly roasted into mummies—twisted figures huddled in the corners of walls, their bodies still wrapped in the last possessions they had tried to protect.

According to Prefect Zhang, a Bodhisattva had descended into Terraflame Kingdom in human form, disguised as a monk, to warn the people to leave. Some had heeded the warning, while others had refused to believe.

That Bodhisattva, at least, had earned a share of true devotion.

Yet, among the Buddhas of the Western Paradise, there were many—just like the Heavenly Palace deities of the Heavenly Palace—who feasted on incense offerings while remaining indifferent to worldly affairs.

But their ways were more sophisticated—far more refined than those of the common gods.

Take Thunder God or Great Immortal Hu Mu, for example—their divine duties were clearly defined. The faith and devotion they received from the people were also based on clear agreements: If you worship me, I will grant you such-and-such in return.

If they failed to deliver, it would be obvious.

But most Buddhas, much like the main gods of the Heavenly Palace, had no explicitly defined duties or promises. They were far more skilled at manipulating human faith. Even if they consumed incense offerings without taking action, it was difficult to hold them accountable.

And if something went wrong, even when confronted, they could always claim that their role was merely to oversee things—that the failure lay with those beneath them.

In the end, it was because they stood too high above.

It was a form of disease.

And just like the main gods of the Heavenly Palace, it would have to be dealt with—though the time was not yet right.

Song You walked in silence.

Each time he passed a house, he would glance inside, continuing this way from the foot of the mountain to its peak and then descending on the other side.

During this process, he also attuned himself to the spiritual resonance of the land.

After countless years of burning, the spiritual energy of this place was thick with heat and dryness. And with so many people having perished in the flames this year, their lingering resentment seemed to have seeped into the earth itself, leaving an imprint of suffering upon the land.

When he concentrated, he could almost hear the echoes of their screams from that fateful day.

But this had been a natural disaster.

The fire itself was an ordinary, earthly flame.

He didn’t know whether there was truly an underground “fire altar,” but the flames here were merely the result of combustible gases seeping from the earth, ignited by some unknown spark, giving birth to Terraflame Kingdom.

Beyond that, he found nothing particularly unusual in the land’s spiritual resonance. Nor did he find the soil of the two directions he sought.

If it had been here, the soil of the three directions he carried would have reacted.

“Let’s go.” Song You began walking toward the horizon.

The cat said nothing. She followed at his feet, her head turning from side to side, as if sensing something—lost in thought.

It was a long time before she finally snapped out of it.

“We’re leaving?”

“Mm.”

“Did you find the demon that’s stopping the rain?”

“No.”

“Did you find the soil you were looking for?”

“Also no.”

“Then let’s wait a bit before leaving. There’s so much fire here. My pouch has three four-legged lizards, five scorpions, and two big yellow snakes. Let’s roast them and eat before we go.”

“...”

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“...”

“Let’s stop for a moment!”

“It’s too hot. Let’s talk less.”

The Daoist continued walking without pause, his face expressionless.

Lady Calico froze in place, staring at him with sudden seriousness. After a while, seeing that he had no intention of stopping, she didn’t seem to mind. She had her own solution.

She transformed back into her human form, took out her small bamboo staff, and cast a minor fire-avoidance spell. Then she tied one of the sand-colored desert snakes onto the staff, walking a little farther away from the Daoist’s protective spell and extending the snake beyond its boundary to roast it slowly in the heat.

Every so often, she would pull it back, sniffing and inspecting it, then sprinkle some salt over it.

Despite walking, she kept herself quite busy.

From within the ruins of the abandoned Terraflame Kingdom, more fire-resistant spirits and creatures poked their heads out. They quietly observed the departing travelers, their expressions wary and filled with unease.

***

The landscape continued shifting between stretches of desert and Gobi plains.

Song You had been rationing his baked flatbread carefully, his water and melons even more so, but supplies were slowly dwindling.

Fortunately, the swallow returned with news. They were almost out of the desert.

The road was now lined with long caravans of camels.

This path was truly paved with gold—as if every step forward yielded another piece of treasure. Even with the severe drought ahead and countless bodies of those who had perished from thirst along the way, merchants pressed forward undeterred.

Song You traveled alongside a westward-bound caravan for a time, then crossed paths with countless caravans heading east.

After another half-day’s journey, they rounded a sand dune, and in the distance, an oasis station came into view. The first thing that met their eyes was an ancient yet magnificent pavilion and the watchtower beside it.

The water level of Crescent Spring seemed to have dropped again.

Many merchants had come in search of water, only to be turned away—without exception. It seemed that the drought wasn’t just worsening the farther west one traveled.

With time, it was growing more severe everywhere.

When they had come earlier, the merchants who were denied water were certainly disappointed, but it wasn’t a matter of life or death. At most, they would have to find another way or grit their teeth and push forward. However, now, some of them had already collapsed to the ground, their lips cracked, their minds muddled. It was clear that they would likely succumb to dehydration and collapse here before the day was over.

Even the guards on duty couldn’t bear to watch any longer, turning their heads away to avoid the sight.

Song You still had half a jug of water left, as well as a watermelon. Naturally, he couldn’t just stand by and watch them perish, so he quickly took out what he had, crouched down, and began feeding the merchants.

Gradually, some of them regained their senses, instinctively gulping down the water.

For those whose symptoms were less severe or who had recovered slightly, Song You withdrew his hand, smashed the watermelon apart, and gave each of them a piece to eat.

At this moment, there were no distinctions between merchants, no debates over stubbornness or whether they had brought this upon themselves. There were only suffering people—and a wandering Daoist who happened to have the means to ease it.

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