Chapter 114: The Desolate Flame Prison


    Han Ming watched the hellish scene in the distance with a mix of relief and astonishment. He couldn’t believe his luck.


    The green mist had arrived just in time. Without it, he wouldn’t have known how to deal with the overwhelming number of pursuers.


    The mist spread southward, engulfing the entire city.


    Han Ming looked around. The mist blotted out the sky, stretching endlessly in all directions. He had no idea when it would dissipate.


    Not daring to wait, lest the enemies from the city catch up, Han Ming skirted the edge of the mist, heading north.


    After walking for half a day, the sky began to darken, but the mist still showed no signs of ending.


    Han Ming marveled at the sheer scale of the mist. It was unimaginable.


    If this mist were to spread beyond the Desolate Storm and reach the human world, it would be a catastrophe.


    Sitting down, Han Ming took out some food and ate slowly, his mind racing.


    Only three months remained of the two-year deadline. Time was running out.


    He checked the tracking mark for the Profound Sky Ice Silkworm. It was still there, as strong as when he had first seen the silkworm’s cocoon. It hadn’t weakened at all.


    Logically, after wasting so much time, the mark should have disappeared. He guessed it had something to do with the silkworm’s cocoon phase.


    Perhaps the mark would vanish once the silkworm emerged. By then, finding it would be nearly impossible.


    After walking along the edge of the mist for half the night, Han Ming finally reached its end.


    Relieved, he waited for the mist to pass completely before continuing westward.


    Perhaps because he had deviated from his original route, he traveled for another day and night without encountering any cities.


    Gradually, Han Ming relaxed. In the distance, where the sky met the earth, he could see a faint red glow, half the sky painted crimson.


    "That must be the legendary Desolate Flame Prison," Han Ming muttered, his confidence surging.


    He pressed on without rest, racing toward the fiery horizon.


    Three days later, Han Ming could vaguely make out a range of mountains engulfed in flames.


    Unfortunately, he also spotted a large group of about a thousand people approaching from the south.


    "Dammit! They’re like glue!" Han Ming cursed under his breath, speeding up toward the Desolate Flame Prison.


    Someone in the group spotted a small figure with a glowing red mark on its head, moving rapidly.


    "It’s him! We’ve found him! After him!"


    The crowd erupted in excitement.


    Aside from the city lord’s promised reward for capturing Han Ming, the Desert Snake Clan’s bounty was enough to drive most people mad.


    The lure of immense wealth made them forget Han Ming’s terror, the gap in their strength, and even how they would divide the spoils if they caught him. All rational thought was cast aside as they chased recklessly.


    At the back of the crowd, a hunched figure in a black cloak slowly pushed back its hood, revealing a face as wrinkled as tree bark. His eyes gleamed with sharp intensity.


    "Finally, the boy shows himself. I’ve been searching for him for so long," the old man muttered. He quickly broke away from the group, heading straight for Han Ming.


    "Without the demoness to protect you, let’s see where you can run now!"


    This man was none other than the black-robed elder Han Ming had offended at the mercenary auction house—the wind-attributed old man.


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    Han Ming felt a sharp gaze lock onto him. Turning, he was startled.


    "Why is that old ghost still after me!?"


    "Han Er! Where do you think you’re running! Give me back my child’s life!"


    Han Ming shuddered at the voice. Looking in the opposite direction, he saw a burly figure charging toward him—it was Mo Tianqi, whose children had been killed by the demoness.


    "Haha! Boy, you won’t escape me this time!"


    Han Ming’s scalp tingled as another voice rang out behind him.


    It was the fire-attributed middle-aged man who had ambushed him with the wind elder. Behind him was the city lord whose son Han Ming had killed.


    "What the hell? How did they all find me at the same time?"


    A chill ran up Han Ming’s spine.


    Dealing with one War Soul expert was already difficult. The demon soul, though powerful, was limited by Han Ming’s low strength.


    Now, with four War Soul experts chasing him, Han Ming stood no chance. A single encounter would tear him to pieces.


    With enemies closing in from three directions, the only path left was toward the Desolate Flame Prison.


    "Run!"


    Gritting his teeth, Han Ming mustered all his strength, focusing it into his legs. He shot forward like an arrow, heading straight for the Desolate Flame Prison.


    The three forces converged in a triangular formation, while Han Ming, like a sharp blade, cut through the center.


    "Desolate Flame Prison, here I come!"


    Just as the three forces were about to trap him, Han Ming leaped into the legendary Desolate Flame Prison.


    A wave of heat hit him.


    The temperature here was several times higher than in the Desolate Desert.


    "Demon soul! Quick! Loosen the bindings on my core!"


    The demon soul, hovering inside Han Ming, shook her head coldly. She stared at Han Ming’s core, refusing to relent.


    "Don’t think you can take advantage. I’ll never let go of this core!"


    Han Ming was frantic. He had stepped onto scorched earth, where flames burned everywhere. The air, scorched by the fire, was low in oxygen.


    Every breath felt like his lungs were about to explode.


    His hair, clothes, and shoes began to catch fire.


    Without protective battle energy or a magic shield, he would soon burn to death in the Desolate Flame Prison.


    Meanwhile, the pursuers reached the edge of the prison. Seeing Han Ming disappear into the flames, they activated their battle energy or magic shields. Some used water shields, others earth armor, and a few wrapped themselves in strange black leaves. Fire-attributed warriors and mages, unaffected by the heat, charged into the inferno.


    A few weaker individuals hesitated at the edge. Some tried to enter but quickly retreated, unable to withstand the heat. They sat down at the border, unwilling to leave, waiting for a chance.


    "Cough... cough... Demoness, you... you have to loosen the bindings on my core, even just a little. Without an ice shield, I’ll burn to death. What will you do then?"


    Han Ming was furious. He had thought absorbing a beast soul would be beneficial, but the core wasn’t a beast soul—it was a higher-level demon soul. While this seemed advantageous, it had backfired.


    The demon soul not only had its own consciousness but had also tightly bound Han Ming’s core, constantly draining his magic power. He couldn’t even access his own magic energy.


    Hearing Han Ming’s plea, the demon soul hesitated. She flew out of Han Ming’s body, observing his burning form. Realizing he wasn’t lying, she reluctantly nodded.


    Returning to Han Ming’s body, she loosened the silver threads binding his core slightly.


    The core, finally free to move, began to rotate slowly.


    The energy vortex around the core activated, channeling the absorbed magic energy into Han Ming’s body.


    Han Ming shuddered. "It’s working! I can feel the magic power!"


    With his magic restored, Han Ming immediately cast an ice shield. The flames on his body extinguished.


    The intense heat melted the ice shield’s surface, droplets falling continuously. Han Ming had no choice but to keep reinforcing the shield.


    "This damn place is terrifying. Forget hunting magical beasts—surviving here requires constant magic consumption." Han Ming moved through the Desolate Flame Prison, flames licking at him from all sides.


    Strange trees burned endlessly, a bizarre sight. The Desolate Flame Prison had existed for thousands of years, yet these trees hadn’t turned to ash. It was unnerving.


    Unbeknownst to Han Ming, some plants thrived in such fiery conditions.


    For example, the Blazing Grass he needed grew most abundantly in the Desolate Flame Prison. The one he had found in the secret sect’s cave was extremely rare, its properties and energy purity far inferior to those grown here.


    Roar!


    A piercing roar came from Han Ming’s side.


    He turned to see a lion wreathed in flames charging through the burning vegetation.


    "A fourth-tier magical beast—the Ember Lion!"


    Han Ming’s eyes gleamed. He drew his Cyan Rainbow Sword and, wincing, cut a deep gash in his arm.


    Blood flowed down his arm onto the sword, which began to hum and glow red.


    "Go!"


    Han Ming swung the sword, sending a crescent-shaped red energy wave toward the Ember Lion.


    The lion roared, spitting a fireball the size of a human head. The fireball collided with the red energy, causing a massive explosion.


    But the lion had underestimated the red energy’s power. The explosion hadn’t even subsided before the energy wave broke through, forcing the lion to bite at it with its sharp teeth.


    The lion was sent flying by the impact.


    "Help me!"


    Han Ming pleaded with the demon soul.


    The demon soul glanced at him coldly. "Don’t think you can order me around. I won’t lift a finger unless your life is in danger. You can handle this lion yourself."


    Han Ming stomped his foot in frustration and rushed toward the lion, which was just regaining its footing.


    If he was willing to bleed more and waste time, he could barely kill this fourth-tier beast. Magical beasts, though powerful, lacked human intelligence. A fourth-tier beast was manageable, but a fourth-tier human would be far more dangerous.


    Moreover, Han Ming couldn’t afford to waste time. Though he couldn’t see his pursuers through the flames, he knew they were still after him. If he lingered, they would catch up.


    Han Ming repeatedly cut himself, coating the Cyan Rainbow Sword in blood to attack the Ember Lion. Despite the ice shield, the heat evaporated the blood almost instantly, forcing him to make new cuts.