As the flickering ashen flame danced in the old man’s palm, Uncle Hui finally said. “Deathfire! So, you’ve finally perfected it,” he said, the words seeping out from his mouth like a painful sigh. His face had drained of its usual color, the shock turning him into a ghastly figure. His voice, reduced to a raspy whisper, barely concealed the terror that laced his words. A wave of silence swept over the gathering, as the impact of Uncle Hui’s words began to resonate with everyone present. The Deathfire Art was no ordinary technique; its perfection was synonymous with an unassailable supremacy.

Following Uncle Hui’s revelation, Ancestor Qin sneered dismissively. It was a sneer filled with arrogance and confidence, highlighting his indifference towards their terror. Turning abruptly towards the members of the Eternal Grace Sect, he began to address them with an air of dominance. “I find myself in high spirits today,” he announced, his voice echoing through the gathering. “Thus, I will present you with a chance of survival. Pledge your fidelity to Qin Plateau, and your lives will carry on uninterrupted.” As he concluded his proclamation, he drew out a set of jade medallions, holding them up for all to see. “However,” he continued, “any defiance against my orders will result in your souls being obliterated. As an assurance, I demand each of you to seal a third of your primal soul in these soul medallions before you depart.” His icy stare bore into each of them, his ultimatum hanging heavily in the air.

The ominous silence that followed Ancestor Qin’s ultimatum was deafening. The assembled cultivators shared anxious glances, each one grappling with the grim reality of their situation. The soul medallions, symbols of their impending servitude, were met with apprehension. Each cultivator seemed rooted in their place, caught between the fear of retaliation and the reluctance to pledge their souls. The tense silence, suffused with dread and uncertainty, hung heavily in the air. An unwelcome sense of foreboding was slowly creeping into the minds of all present.

In the midst of this tension, Eccentric Lightning Elder, a figure of formidable strength himself, made a covert move. Safely ensconced within his azure treasure ship, he silently released the three captive cultivators from the Hidden Evil sect. His actions were quiet, his intentions unknown to the rest, adding another layer of intrigue to the unfolding drama.

Ancestor Qin’s patience, however, seemed to be dwindling rapidly. His face, already marred with impatience, suddenly contorted into a mask of fury. “It appears you yearn for complete obliteration of body and soul,” he declared, his voice laced with menace. “So be it! Your desires shall be granted!” His pronouncement echoed ominously, shattering the silence, and jolting the cultivators into terrified awareness.

Caught off guard by Ancestor Qin’s declaration, one of the cultivators made a sudden move. The man, known for his distinct beak-like nose, was standing right behind Fairy Ziyan. With a swift movement, he transformed into a beam of yellow light and soared into the sky. In the blink of an eye, he had distanced himself by a hundred meters. Fairy Ziyan could only watch, stunned, as the cultivator broke away from the group. With a scornful remark, he announced his intentions, “Humph! As I harbor no aspirations to confront the Great Master nor to be dominated, I will take my leave.”

The final echo of the fleeing cultivator’s declaration of defiance was yet to fade when his yellow beam of light shot further into the distance. His remarkable speed was evident, creating an almost tangible sense of awe among those watching. The speed wasn’t merely a reflection of his physical ability, but a manifestation of his desperation to escape the clutches of Ancestor Qin and his ashen flames. His successful escape would be a beacon of hope for others, a symbol of rebellion against the domineering old man.

However, Ancestor Qin had other plans. His eyes, mirroring the ominous gleam of his ashen flame, followed the receding streak of yellow light. With an air of disdain, he casually flicked his hand, the one that held his symbol of power – the gray fireball. The ashen flame seemed to respond to his command, morphing into a slender gray streak that disappeared into the distance, chasing after the yellow beam. The abruptness of his act and the nonchalance with which he executed it left the spectators in a state of bewilderment. They watched in silence, the unspoken questions reflected in their wide-eyed gazes.

Among the sea of perplexed faces, Han Cai stood out. The young man didn’t look confused; instead, he appeared intrigued by Ancestor Qin’s ashen flame. Turning to Yongnian, he voiced his curiosity, asking if the gray fire could be of any use to them. Yongnian, however, dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. He expressed his disinterest in such an inferior flame when thousands of superior ones existed. His dismissal carried a tone of superiority, stemming from their elevated status and vast knowledge of diverse spiritual fires.

Before the discussion could continue, a harrowing scream echoed through the silence, originating from the yellow streak. The scream, filled with terror and agony, sent chills down the spines of the onlookers. Along with the scream, a metallic clink rang out, signaling a sudden transformation. The yellow streak morphed into a demonic gray flame, mirroring the ashen fireball of Ancestor Qin. As the gray flame slowly receded, it revealed a pitch-black throwing knife – a magic treasure. The yellow streak had disappeared, leaving behind only the magical knife and a lingering sense of dread.

Despite Yongnian’s dismissal of the ashen flame, Han Cai continued to contemplate its potential. He considered that while the flames might not be potent now, with time and cultivation, Yongnian might evolve them. Weighing the prospects of seizing the flame from Ancestor Qin, he began to see the potential benefits. To the gathered cultivators, the elderly figure was clearly the most powerful, but he hadn’t yet achieved the coveted Earth Immortal status. Referring to himself as ‘ancestor’ was unlikely to summon a true Immortal to his defense. The possibility of stealing the flame, evolving it, and harnessing its deadly power was becoming increasingly appealing to Han Cai. The allure of the flame wasn’t merely its potential evolution but also its association with death – a force universally feared, irrespective of its initial weakness.