Chapter 42: A Farewell That Is Not a Farewell

During the battle, Liu Feng unexpectedly broke through to the fourth layer of Qi Condensation, something no one had foreseen. Yet even more surprising was that Yin Tianfang had been concealing his true cultivation; he had already reached the fourth layer of Qi Condensation long ago.

When Yin Tianfang’s aura erupted, revealing the fourth layer, Liu Feng’s expression changed abruptly.

“How is this possible? How could this be?!” His eyes brimmed with disbelief and unwillingness. He could not accept defeat—not again, not after already losing once to Yin Tianfang. He refused to let it happen a second time. As these thoughts raced through his mind, a fierce and twisted look appeared on his face. Biting the tip of his tongue, he spat out a mouthful of vital blood. Instantly, his complexion turned pale.

Forming seals with his hands, Liu Feng shouted loudly. As he finished, he thrust his finger toward the void and an enormous ice spike slowly condensed, radiating a frigid aura.

“Go! Die for me!” Liu Feng’s face contorted with ferocity as he cried out. He was willing to sacrifice his very essence to unleash a blow far stronger than his own cultivation allowed.

This attack, once released, could not be withdrawn. If Yin Tianfang could not withstand it, and no one acted in time, he would surely die on that stage.

“This child is reckless!” Up in the stands, the head of the Liu family’s face darkened as he spoke in a low, stern voice. His anger was not at Liu Feng’s ruthless actions, but at his willingness to jeopardize his own vital energy for victory. Such recklessness could affect his future cultivation—how could the patriarch bear it?

He cared nothing for Yin Tianfang’s life. Only his son's future mattered to him. The elders of the Profound Dao Sect also changed their expressions, preparing to intervene and forcibly halt the match.

Yet at that precise moment, something truly unforeseen occurred. Yin Tianfang, whose cultivation had recently risen to the fourth layer of Qi Condensation, saw Liu Feng risking everything. The enormous ice spike, radiating with chilling light, locked onto him, filling him with tremendous pressure. If he defended with only the fourth layer’s strength, he could not withstand it.

“Really, you’re forcing me to go all out,” Yin Tianfang muttered, his expression suddenly turning cold and grim. At that moment, an even more powerful aura burst forth from him. It whipped up fierce winds all around.

His overwhelming presence caused all the ice spikes to momentarily freeze in their tracks. Raising his palm, he clenched it sharply. Instantly, the countless ice spikes shattered, including the gigantic ice spike Liu Feng had formed at the cost of his vital energy. All were reduced to glittering fragments, cascading down from the sky.

With a splutter, as the ice spikes shattered, Liu Feng—already pale—spewed another mouthful of blood and was hurled backward, crashing heavily to the ground.

Thousands crowded the martial arena, but now it was utterly silent. Everyone stared at the blood-spitting, defeated Liu Feng, then turned their gaze to the stage where Yin Tianfang, clad in simple blue robes, stood calmly. Shock filled their eyes.

On the viewing platform, the elders of the Profound Dao Sect, who had been poised to act, were frozen in place. None of them could have predicted such a scene.

“Feng’er!” As everyone stood dumbfounded, a figure rushed forward and hastily gathered Liu Feng in his arms. Blood trickled from Liu Feng’s lips, his complexion impossibly pale, his aura feeble—so much so that his cultivation seemed on the verge of receding.

Seeing this, the Liu family patriarch’s expression changed dramatically. He quickly produced a pill and fed it to Liu Feng, then turned to glare at Yin Tianfang on the stage, his eyes filled with icy menace.

“Young man, what cunning!” the Liu patriarch growled through clenched teeth, his words brimming with murderous intent. Under the patriarch’s gaze, Yin Tianfang felt a chill run through his body, as though that stare had become tangible, shaking his spirit.

“Patriarch Liu, don’t go too far.” A figure landed in front of Yin Tianfang, blocking the patriarch’s gaze and giving him a cool glance. The patriarch’s expression shifted rapidly; after a moment, he snorted coldly and carried Liu Feng swiftly away.

“Thank you, Elder Xuan Yin,” Yin Tianfang sighed in relief. Just a single look from the Liu patriarch had exerted immense pressure, rattling his spirit. Had Elder Xuan Yin not appeared, his mind might well have suffered damage.

“I’ll come to see you tonight. There are things you need to know,” Elder Xuan Yin said with a smile to Yin Tianfang before departing.

Yin Tianfang watched him go, perplexed and anxious.

“What does he want with me? What if it’s something harmful?” As he pondered, a voice called from behind. Turning, he saw Nuo Lan beckoning to him.

Jumping down from the platform, Yin Tianfang approached Nuo Lan. Qing Luo stood beside her, holding the tiny creature in her arms, curiosity shining in her eyes as she watched Yin Tianfang descend.

“Thank you,” Nuo Lan said.

“Thank me for what? Just don’t hit me again,” Yin Tianfang replied with a smile. Last time he had tried to help, only to receive a slap for his trouble.

His words made Nuo Lan recall her previous actions; her cheeks flushed, and she lowered her head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry about last time.”

“Let me walk you back,” Yin Tianfang said with a smile.

Nuo Lan nodded gently. Qing Luo, sensing the mood, did not follow, but the little creature in her arms fluttered its wings and landed on Nuo Lan’s shoulder, accompanying them as they left.

Under the gaze of the crowd, Yin Tianfang and Nuo Lan walked away together, stirring envy and jealousy among many male disciples.

The competition continued, but none of it concerned Yin Tianfang. Together, he and Nuo Lan ascended the steps toward their dwellings.

“By the way, I still don’t know your name,” Nuo Lan said, hugging the little creature to her chest and stroking its soft feathers, trying to mask her nervousness.

Yin Tianfang realized he knew Nuo Lan’s name, but had never told her his own.

“My name is Yin Tianfang.”

“Mm.” Nuo Lan nodded softly, recalling their first meeting months ago: Yin Tianfang unconscious, rescued from the river by Qing Luo and brought to her residence, only to leave without farewell. Now, unexpectedly, he was a disciple of the Profound Dao Sect—and today he had saved her on the stage, seriously injuring Liu Feng and displaying remarkable strength. Truly, fate worked in mysterious ways.

After escorting Nuo Lan home, Yin Tianfang took the little creature from her arms and said, “I may leave here soon. I wanted to tell you in advance, in case there’s no time for goodbyes.”

Nuo Lan felt a sudden pang of loss. She looked up at Yin Tianfang and asked, “Will you come back?”

“I don’t know—maybe I will,” Yin Tianfang replied with a smile. But in his heart, he knew that if he left this time, he might never return.

“When you come back, remember to find me.”

“I will,” he said, and Nuo Lan asked no more, turning to enter the courtyard. Yin Tianfang watched her go, then turned and departed.

He did not return to his own quarters, but instead followed the mountain path down to the banks of the Clearwater River. He leapt up, intending to ride his sword away. Yet just as he sprang, his expression changed drastically, and with a splash, he fell headlong into the river.