Chapter Two: Memories of the Immortal Lord of Fengyang

Feng Qinghe lowered his head to examine the items closely and was utterly astonished. These spirit fruits and herbs were all of celestial grade or higher; any one of them would be enough to drive those below the twentieth level of the Upper Realm’s mainland into a frenzy.

He picked up a spirit fruit that was entirely crimson, streaked with golden patterns, with what seemed to be a flickering flame burning at its core, and asked, “Master, is this the Fire Lotus Scarlet Heart Fruit?”

You Xiyue was still rummaging through her spatial pouch. Hearing his question, she glanced up and replied perfunctorily, “It should be.”

The little white snake, who had been watching curiously, could no longer hold back. “Nonsense! Don’t listen to your master’s wild guesses. This is a Fire Lotus Phoenix Heart Fruit. Can’t you see the flame in its core is shaped like a phoenix?”

Feng Qinghe was even more shocked upon hearing this. He raised the fruit and examined it carefully—sure enough, it was the image of a phoenix in rebirth, flapping its wings endlessly.

You Xiyue pouted. “What’s the difference?”

The little snake flicked its tongue in exasperation. “There’s a huge difference! The Fire Lotus Scarlet Heart Fruit from Chiyou Valley ripens once every five hundred years. But the Fire Lotus Phoenix Heart Fruit forms over ten thousand years by absorbing fire lotus spiritual energy from the Scarlet Heart Fruit—one is celestial grade, the other is saint grade, with a divine grade in between. How could they be the same?”

You Xiyue snorted. “They’re all fire-attributed, aren’t they? The only difference is how long it takes to absorb. What does it matter?”

The little snake rolled its eyes. Apart from You Xiyue, it doubted anyone else would be so wasteful.

Feng Qinghe also looked helplessly at You Xiyue, then picked up a golden ginseng root. “What about this one?”

The little snake slithered closer and sniffed. “Most likely Flameheart Golden Ginseng. It’s fire-attributed, but don’t eat too much at once; you might not be able to absorb it.”

Feng Qinghe looked at it, puzzled, about to ask something, but the snake cut him off, “Don’t worry, it’s definitely Flameheart Golden Ginseng. It’s sentient, but your master found them noisy and sealed all the sentient ones except me.”

“Thank you for your guidance, Senior Brother.” Feng Qinghe bowed in gratitude to the little snake, then carefully stowed the pile of spirit fruits and herbs into his spatial pouch.

The snake was momentarily stunned, then swayed its tail in delight. “Senior Brother? He called me Senior Brother!”

You Xiyue, seeing the little snake so pleased, for once didn’t retort. “His name is Junyang. It’s not inappropriate for you to call him Senior Brother,” she told Feng Qinghe.

So Feng Qinghe bowed respectfully again, “Senior Brother Junyang.”

Junyang, suddenly finding himself with a junior, felt a surge of responsibility. With a shake, he transformed with a “pop” into an ethereal man in white robes, then reached into the void and produced a golden phoenix feather fan. “Take this as your meeting gift from Senior Brother.”

“S-senior Brother… You…” Even as the third young master of the Phoenix Clan on the seventeenth level of the Upper Realm, Feng Qinghe had only ever seen a phoenix feather enshrined in the ancestral hall. This fan startled him greatly.

Junyang quickly explained, “Your ancestor once challenged me to single combat and lost. This was the wager. Use it without worry.”

Feng Qinghe accepted the golden phoenix feather fan, his hands trembling, looking at Junyang and then at You Xiyue with complicated emotions.

Only the first generation ancestor of the Phoenix Clan was a golden phoenix, and over time, the bloodline had thinned until it was nearly impossible to manifest the true form. The clan’s status in the Upper Realm had dropped repeatedly. Feng Qinghe stole a glance at Junyang, finding him so shrouded in ethereal mist that neither his age nor cultivation could be discerned. “Senior Brother, how old are you?”

You Xiyue finally found what she was looking for and tossed it to Feng Qinghe. “Him? Just several hundred thousand years old. An old codger.”

Junyang, having resumed his snake form, jumped over in protest. “I shed my skin and renew myself every thousand years—how am I an old codger?”

You Xiyue stuck out her tongue. “I’m only sixteen.”

“You…” Junyang was at a loss for words, pouting resentfully. “Who else could match your luck and talent?”

While You Xiyue and Junyang bickered, Feng Qinghe, upon catching what You Xiyue tossed him, was so stunned he could barely think. After a long moment, he finally raised his head, “Master, is this the Phoenix Crest?”

You Xiyue nodded. “Yes. They say only with this can one be recognized as the true Phoenix Clan chief.”

Feng Qinghe squeezed it tightly, his eyes moistening at the corners. “The Phoenix Crest was lost for centuries. I can’t believe you had it, Master. Did you ever meet my father?” He looked up, eyes full of conflicting emotions.

You Xiyue shrugged. “I’m only sixteen. How could I have met your father? I came by it by chance.”

“If it was by chance, then why did you specifically take me as your disciple?”

You Xiyue arched an eyebrow, silently noting Feng Qinghe’s quick wit in piecing things together so fast. She saw no need to hide anything and asked blandly, “Are you sure you want to know now?”

Feng Qinghe rubbed the Phoenix Crest in his hands and nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

“Very well.” You Xiyue formed a seal with one hand and gently tapped Feng Qinghe’s forehead with a slender finger. In an instant, the memories of Phoenix Lord Feng Anlin flooded into Feng Qinghe’s mind.

His vision went black, and he was plunged into Feng Anlin’s memories.

Feng Anlin was bound by immortal-locking chains that pierced through his limbs. His body was covered in wounds, his clothes stuck to them, his eyes empty and unfocused.

Feng Qinghe clenched his fists, nails biting into his flesh, eyes rimmed red. He had suspected that his father was likely a victim of the current clan chief, Feng Yanhua, but he had never imagined his father endured such torture.

Feng Yanhua entered the secret chamber and stood before Feng Anlin, chuckling coldly. “Feng Anlin, hand over the Phoenix Crest and you’ll be granted a swift death.”

Feng Anlin seemed lifeless, offering no response.

“Feng Anlin! Don’t play dead with me.” In a sudden frenzy, Feng Yanhua drew a dagger and stabbed wildly at Feng Anlin.

Feng Anlin groaned, spat a mouthful of blood, and managed a feeble laugh. “Want to be the rightful Phoenix Clan chief? Do you deserve it?”

That only drove Feng Yanhua further into madness. “Well, well, well. You say I don’t deserve it? I’ll show you! I’ll ask one last time—will you hand over the Phoenix Crest or not?”

“No,” Feng Anlin replied through gritted teeth.

“You think I can’t become clan chief without it?” Feng Yanhua, now eerily calm, cast a cleansing spell to remove the bloodstains, looked at Feng Anlin with disdain, then stepped back. “The Phoenix Clan cannot be leaderless for a day. Once your soul lamp is extinguished, the elders will elect me as chief, with or without your crest.”