Chapter 31 – A Demon Clad in Flames

Despite Qin Yun’s crushing strike, Ma Zhurong appeared untouched. He stood up, not a mark on him, save for his torn robes that hinted at a secret concealed below.

Beneath the tatters, a jade-green metal gleamed, Etra swirling around it. Clearly, this was no ordinary garment but a defensive artifact, likely a supple suit of body armour.

Nothing else could have absorbed Qin Yun’s powerful blow.

A sharp ache shot through Qin Yun’s arms, forcing him to shake off the lingering tremors. The armour had not only shielded Ma Zhurong from a fatal blow, but in that fleeting moment, it retaliated, sending a portion of the force back into Qin Yun.

Fortunately, the Black Iron Staff was sturdy enough to withstand the force of its own blows.

“You know,” Qin Yun said. “It’s not like I wasn’t expecting you to have more artifacts than just that whip, but for some reason, I’m disappointed. Do you always walk around with that thing?”

Defensive artifacts weren’t rare by any means. Many practitioners of some renown owned one or two. For example, Qin Yun wouldn’t be surprised if Xiao Liuguang had quite a few hidden throughout his person, concealed by his divine will.

People like his wife, who had none to her name for some reason, were quite the outliers. It was entirely natural for someone of Ma Zhurong’s stature to have been gifted an artifact by the Clan.

Yet what gnawed at Qin Yun was the artifact’s grade. To withstand such a strike, it had to be at least a mid-tier spirit grade artifact.

Artifacts like that were far from cheap, never intended for Foundation Building novices. Most lacked the Etra reserves to even activate them, let alone wield them in battle.

Yet reality defied expectation. The truth glared at him: if he wanted to defeat Ma Zhurong, he would have to outwit the artifact’s formidable defences.

“How…” Ma Zhurong growled, his voice the lowest Qin Yun had ever heard from him. “How can this be possible? Someone like you shouldn’t be able to stand against me!”

“Someone like me?” Qin Yun replied. “What is that supposed to mean? Is your ego so far gone that you can’t recognize reality? What made you think just because I couldn’t cultivate, I would somehow be beneath you? The world isn’t that cut-and-dry. The Spectral Path isn’t strictly better than the martial one. Get over yourself.”

Qin Yun had no more words for this fool. Nothing he said would ever pierce Ma Zhurong’s narrow world, which shut out any view but his own.

He only knew to reject what he couldn’t comprehend.

So much for genius. Qin Yun almost pitied him, but he knew better—pity was wasted on someone so blind.

He sprang forward, staff gripped tight, aiming to finish this once and for all. Enough time had been squandered.

Ma Zhurong lashed out again, but Qin Yun had already mapped his every move. The fool clung to the same tired patterns, hoping luck would tip the scales.

Their difference in battle experience was a chasm—a child squaring off against a seasoned veteran, a mountain looming over a valley.

Whatever Ma Zhurong attempted, Qin Yun stayed two steps ahead. There was simply no path for Ma Zhurong to catch up.

It wasn’t that Qin Yun was that much stronger than Ma Zhurong. In fact, Ma Zhurong was rather impressive. Few in his age bracket could match him, and with his two treasures, he was almost invincible.

Only someone like Qin Meihui, with slightly higher cultivation and access to even more resources, could match such a man.

However, that only held true for practitioners. Battles were won by power alone. It was different in the case of martial arts. Below a certain threshold, martial artists had to use their heads to bridge the power gap.

Qin Yun anticipated every move, becoming an uncanny presence to Ma Zhurong. Battling him felt like chasing a ghost—he was always just out of reach, striking from the shadows.

Qin Yun frowned. He wasn’t playing around. He struck many times, seeking to end the fight, but every time he got close, the jade-like armour would repel him.

From the repeated strike, his hands were growing slightly numb, and it made it harder and harder to wield this unwieldy staff.

There was also the arena to consider.

Driven back, Ma Zhurong lashed his whip in wild arcs. Each time the Ghost Flame-laced weapon struck the floor, heat bled into the stone, warping the ground and turning their footing treacherous.

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Each time, Xiao Liuguang would stop the Ghost Flame’s spread, but despite his mighty powers, he was slowly reaching his limit.

Sustaining the artifact demanded a hefty flow of Etra. Though he had reserves to spare, each new crack made it harder for Etra to circulate inside.

His reserves ebbed away, and he silently wished the deadlock would break before he was forced to bring the artifact down.

Qin Yun struck again, but for the first time, Ma Zhurong wasn’t launched backwards. His feet remained firmly planted onto the ground, the tip of the iron staff hovering millimetres before the armour, as if a thin protection layer existed between them.

It felt as though the armour was slowly coming to life.

“What is that thing?” Qin Yun couldn’t help but ask.

He had pored over nearly every record the Qin clan kept on Jin City’s artifacts, from those owned by rogue practitioners to treasures held by people like Ma Zhurong.

After all, it was the clan’s job to know such things.

Yet nothing in the archives matched this armour. Some artifacts were similar, but none at the spirit grade—those with such traits were usually earth-grade or higher.

Could the artifact be evolving mid-battle? The thought flashed through Qin Yun’s mind, only to be dismissed as absurd.

His hunch was on point. There was no way an artifact of this calibre could do such a thing. An artifact would need to form its own ego before battle-induced advancement could naturally occur.

This artifact was far from it.

So what else could it be?

Qin Yun had other theories, but time was short. He settled on the most troubling possibility and prepared for the worst.

If he was mistaken, so be it. But if his fears proved true, at least he would be ready. In battles like this, risk had to be managed above all.