Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Fifteen: The Sandstorm Rite (Part Two)

No one had expected that while the heir’s duel was not yet finished, the second young master had already stepped onto the Wind Ridge arena.

Only then did the people of Yanbei recall that the second young master was the same age as the heir, and today was also his coming-of-age ceremony.

Even so, the heir had old ties with Yan Weixie—why was the second young master taking the stage?

If it were simply a matter of celebrating his coming-of-age, surely the vast Yanbei Prince’s Manor could offer him a battle stage of his own.

Feng Yang paid no heed to the thoughts of the crowd in the stands. Upon ascending the arena, he drew the Overlord Spear from his storage pouch.

Feng Ling raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you need me to go easy on you?”

He was at the Mysterious Essence Middle Realm, while Feng Yang had yet to form his Essence Palace. The gap in power was considerable, so such a question was not out of line.

Feng Yang did not agree, but he understood the sentiment.

“You’ve watched my brother quite closely, haven’t you?” he said with a smile. “How about today you watch me carefully for once?”

“I have watched you seriously,” Feng Ling replied.

Feng Yang let out a brief sound of acknowledgment. Twice.

“The heir is much like the prince—ambitious in youth, shouldering heavy responsibilities, brilliant and sharp-edged.”

Brilliant and sharp-edged, thus oblivious to others. Was that the implication? Feng Yang pondered silently.

Before he could make sense of those words, Feng Ling continued, “But you resemble the princess more—steady and reserved, exceptionally intelligent, neither arrogant nor impatient, always certain in your heart.”

With wisdom comes confidence.

Feng Yang thought, so this wolf’s mouth can spit out ivory after all.

“As far as I know, you’ve called me a useless fool quite a few times.”

“I still see you that way, but only in the realm of combat.”

“So you see something else in me?” Feng Yang pressed.

“I do,” Feng Ling’s gaze was complicated. “From the moment you stood here, I saw it.”

Feng Yang thought, standing here is hardly my intention. If I could choose, I’d rather be on that girl from the Murong family’s stage.

“No matter if it’s your intention, the prince’s, or the heir’s, the result is that you stand here.”

Feng Yang arched an eyebrow. “And your point?”

Feng Ling glanced at the Third Elder on the stage. “I want to say it, but I can’t. So, see if you can force it out of me.”

“Does this matter have nothing to do with you?” Feng Yang asked.

“I know everything,” Feng Ling replied.

So it is related to you, Feng Yang thought, but pursued the matter no further.

The yellow sand rolled, the gentle wind stirred.

Overlord Spears gleamed in the light.

Feng Ling’s advantage lay in his profound realm and overwhelming aura.

Feng Yang’s advantage was in his exquisite spear technique and agile movements.

They thrust at the same instant—spear tip clashing with spear tip, sparks flying.

The Overlord Spear’s opening move—Dragon Spear.

The two passed by each other, then swept their spears sideways in unison. The shafts collided, trembling faintly.

The Overlord Spear’s second stance—Cleaving the Level Sands.

With a furious shout, Feng Yang surged forward, leaving an afterimage in the air.

That afterimage was intercepted by another.

Feng Yang’s right shoulder crashed into Feng Ling’s left. The two held for barely a moment before each retreated.

The Overlord Spear’s third stance—Tiger’s Ruin.

Feng Yang retreated two steps, Feng Ling retreated two feet.

Feng Yang raised his brows.

Feng Ling furrowed his.

Brow-raising or furrowed brows required barely an instant; thus, the battle seemed never to pause.

Feng Yang raised the Overlord Spear, red energy swirling around him before gathering in his right hand and pouring into the weapon. The Overlord Spear radiated a brilliant crimson light, as if coming alive!

The Overlord Spear’s seventh stance—Furious Dragon’s Quake.

Prince Feng Muyun stroked his beard, a satisfied smile on his face.

The Fourth Prince stared, finally understanding why Feng Yang had refused his offer.

The stands erupted with gasps of amazement.

A storm of exclamations swept the arena.

So the second young master’s combat strength was this formidable!

No one reacted more strongly to Furious Dragon’s Quake than Feng Ling. The moment the blood energy poured into the spear, he felt a suffocating force!

He had expected Feng Yang’s challenge to be backed by confidence, but this exceeded all his expectations.

Calmly, Feng Ling raised his spear horizontally, like an iron chain.

The Overlord Spear’s fifth stance—Iron River Blockade.

This was the sole defensive move in the Overlord Spear canon; legend held that the Feng clan’s progenitor once used it to withstand three blows from the Demon Lord.

He truly intended to block Furious Dragon’s Quake.

A commotion broke out.

The Overlord Spear prioritized momentum. If one pressed forward relentlessly, even defeating a stronger foe was possible. To switch from attack to defense at this moment seemed like digging his own grave.

The Fourth Prince was baffled.

Feng Muyun sighed, “A fine spear.”

He had already praised Feng Yang’s Furious Dragon’s Quake; now, was he praising Feng Ling?

“If he hadn’t used Iron River Blockade, the outcome would soon be decided,” Feng Muyun said.

“And why is that?” the Fourth Prince inquired.

“His momentum has already lagged—he cannot be faster than Yang’er now.”

Before the Fourth Prince could puzzle out the reasoning, Feng Yang struck.

The Overlord Spear thrust out with force, dense blood energy forming a phantom at its tip, like an enraged dragon leaping from the waters.

A fierce wind howled.

Feng Ling stepped back.

The dragon’s head bit into the iron chain.

The long spear bent nearly into a bow, but did not break.

Feng Ling retreated further, his boots scraping deep black gouges into the ground.

The dragon’s head tore along the iron chain.

Feng Yang pressed Feng Ling back step by step.

Within three feet of the arena’s edge, the spear’s momentum finally spent itself. Both Overlord Spears bounced apart, one landing outside the field, the other hitting the ground nearby.

Feng Yang panted heavily.

Feng Ling’s face was deathly pale, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

No words were exchanged. The battle resumed.

Feng Yang lashed out with his leg like a whip, Feng Ling’s fist cut like a sword—both aimed at the other’s chest.

Feng Yang grunted, sent flying backward.

Feng Ling spat blood, nearly falling from the stage.

Feng Muyun believed the contest was decided.

So did the Third Elder.

In the next instant, both Feng Yang and Feng Ling lunged for the Overlord Spear lying on the arena. Feng Yang seized the butt, Feng Ling grasped the red tassel.

Two thunderous explosions echoed.

Both men stood bare-chested, one shrouded in surging crimson blood energy, the other cloaked in earthen yellow dominance.

The Overlord Spear’s seventeenth stance—Desperate Stand.

Feng Muyun snorted coldly, his gaze toward the Third Elder growing even colder.

The Third Elder’s face turned ashen, unable to meet Feng Muyun’s eyes.

The Grand Elder squinted as always, but his voice was cold as hell’s wind.

“Where did Feng Ling learn Desperate Stand? Why was the elders’ council never informed?”

The Second Elder finally sensed something amiss and shot the Third Elder a blade-like look.

The Third Elder tried to say something.

Feng Muyun interrupted, “Let us first see who wins.”

The Overlord Spear’s essence was dominance; Desperate Stand replenished that dominance, laying the groundwork for the spear’s ultimate move.

Thus, both Feng Yang, whose aura burned ever fiercer, and Feng Ling, whose momentum had waned, now reached their strongest state.

Blood-red energy like rosy clouds flowed over Feng Yang’s body, resembling a suit of armor.

A similar transformation overtook Feng Ling.

Crimson and earthen yellow solidified simultaneously.

The Overlord Spear’s eighteenth stance—Invincible Selflessness.

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