Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Thirty-Five: In the Name of the Sword (Part One)

A few hours earlier, the platform in the training ground—though partially repaired after being ravaged by Fengqi and Yan Wuxie—still looked battered and fractured, lending the place a rather desolate air.

Mo Gu studied the platform’s markings in detail, raising his brows slightly.

Xue Wuhen, watching from the side, reminded him, “You know this counts as cheating.”

Mo Gu replied, “Does it make a difference?”

Xue Wuhen wanted to argue, but in the end, he could not find the words. Indeed, with Mo Gu’s insight, if he could deduce Fengqi’s fighting style and methods from the remnants of battle on the platform, would he not be able to perceive them even more clearly once the fight began?

A match between equals in age was never truly equal. Mo Gu could not possibly erase the thousand years of experience and knowledge he possessed.

Fengqi, overhearing their conversation, smiled indifferently.

Feng Muyun asked, “Are you confident you’ll win?”

Though he had great faith in his son, even he could not guarantee Fengqi’s victory. The gap between Hunyuan and Huixin was like a chasm—let alone one versus Hedao.

A peak Hunyuan facing Hedao was still a gulf apart.

Fengqi rolled his eyes. “Father, have you ever seen me do anything I’m not sure of?”

Feng Muyun considered this and gave an almost imperceptible nod. In sixteen years, he had never once opposed any of Fengqi’s decisions. No fatherly love could achieve that; it was something more.

Though only sixteen, Fengqi’s abilities had long since surpassed the status of heir. Even the throne of Yanbei, Feng Muyun thought quietly, he could surely handle well. With these thoughts, he and Xue Wuhen descended from the platform.

Though the spectator seats were close by, neither of them considered returning. This was the minimum respect owed to someone of Mo Gu’s stature, willing to lower himself to this match.

But their absence from the stands did not mean the stands were empty.

The Blade Divine Guard leaned against a pillar, cradling his blade. Not far away, the Sword Divine Guard sat quietly.

“Absurd,” the Blade Divine Guard pronounced bluntly. A Hedao expert suppressing his cultivation to fight a Hunyuan—anyone would call it madness. If he could defeat Mo Gu, he might have stopped the match himself.

The Sword Divine Guard could only smile wryly. The Wind Divine Guard had held his title for years before either of them, and though they were equals in rank, their realms were not the same. In the entire divine court, only the Emperor and that eunuch had influence over him.

Both the Blade and Sword Divine Guards were seriously wounded; even at full strength, they dared not interfere in Mo Gu’s battle.

He glanced at the Blade Divine Guard, about to offer a few words of comfort, when the latter arched a brow.

“Stone-Crushing Palm? When did that boy learn a secret Zen technique?”

The Sword Divine Guard was taken aback, focusing on the platform. His pupils contracted.

That was no ordinary Stone-Crushing Palm; it was the Great Stone-Crushing Palm!

“It seems we’ve underestimated him,” the Sword Divine Guard chuckled.

The Blade Divine Guard replied coldly, “Even if it’s a Zen secret, his power is too meager. Otherwise, would the platform have survived his strike?”

“But he’s only sixteen.”

First on the Youth Talent Ranking, versed in the Daoist Canon, a master of the Tyrant Spear and the Immaculate Sword—any one of these would mark a peerless prodigy at sixteen, let alone all of them together.

The Sword Divine Guard felt a tinge of regret. Who had not been young once?

He himself had once been youthful, and understood just how astonishing Fengqi’s achievements were.

But the Blade Divine Guard was unmoved. His voice remained cold, his tone unsatisfied. “So what? Until he fully matures, a so-called genius is still just a genius.”

Geniuses were many, but those who attained the realm of Hedao were but a handful.

Every Void Dao cultivator, even those at the Radiance-Attracting stage, had been called a genius in their youth. It was a distinction, but only that.

As the first of the Feng clan to master the Daoist Canon, Fengqi understood this better than the Blade or Sword Divine Guards. Thus, he never displayed arrogance before the world.

He might be lazy, or sharp, or even a bit conceited—but never arrogant.

He gave his all to every opponent.

Only by giving his all could he become truly invincible.

Just as now, he had used his full strength from the very start.

He invoked the Immaculate Sword Eye, empowered by his insight.

He employed the Great Stone-Crushing Palm, bolstered by Zen stillness.

The sword eye to anticipate the enemy, the palm to defeat them.

Yet neither succeeded.

The Immaculate Sword Eye tracked the Wind Divine Guard’s movements, but the Great Stone-Crushing Palm missed.

The platform shattered into splinters.

Fengqi looked at his palm, his gaze sharpening.

He could not understand how the Wind Divine Guard had evaded, but now was not the time for questions.

The wind in the arena wailed, mournful and furious.

Through the storm, Fengqi heard a metallic ring, and a faint glimmer flashed before his eyes.

He dodged in the nick of time, seeing the Wind Divine Guard’s sword graze past him, vanishing again into the howling gale.

For the first time since comprehending the Immaculate Sword Intent, Fengqi found himself unable to track his opponent in a battle of equals.

The Wind Divine Guard was elusive as a shade, his whereabouts nearly unreadable.

Bearing the name of the wind, he embodied freedom, following the path of transcendence.

Truly, the Wind Divine Guard lived up to his reputation, Fengqi mused.

Another cold gleam flared.

Again, Fengqi dodged.

A new rent opened on his collar, several long strands of hair drifting to the ground.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

The wind howled more fiercely.

“The Wind Divine Guard shows no mercy,” Xue Wuhen beamed beneath the platform, not the least bit anxious or embarrassed for his disciple’s predicament. “Even though he’s limiting himself to peak strength, he’s using his most formidable Wind Concealment art and his strongest Sword Light technique. Looks like my prized disciple is about to learn a lesson.”

Strangely, Feng Muyun did not speak up for Fengqi either.

His gaze was deep, as if surveying the defensive map of Yanbei before a great war.

Xue Wuhen, receiving no reaction, only shrugged, about to joke when he suddenly froze.

All his playful demeanor vanished in an instant.

So too, many miles away, did the composure of those secretly watching the battle.

Fengqi had closed his eyes, but behind him, two radiant blue lights appeared, shining like the eyes of a god.

The scene was both sacred and uncanny. Were it daytime, the common folk in the stands might have been struck speechless.

But those present were all eminent figures of the divine court, and recognized instantly what those eyes meant.

Suddenly, the Blade and Sword Divine Guards appeared at Xue Wuhen’s side, their faces frosted with severity.

The Blade Divine Guard spoke coldly, “If Sword Law doesn’t provide an explanation, how can we answer to His Majesty?”

The Murong elder landed behind them with Murong Xueluo, sighing. “Though my words carry little weight, as the Prime Minister’s sixth uncle, and with Minglang absent, I must still say this: Has the Snowcloud Sect considered the purpose behind founding the Dao Inquiry Tournament, acting so?”

More and more people gathered.

The Grand Elder appeared silently beside Feng Muyun.

The Third Elder stood at the far end of the platform.

A twin-petaled flower landed, and the Saintess of the Medicine Valley arrived breathless, her brow beaded with sweat.

The Artisan God and Medicine Saint arrived together, Qi Luzhu still wrapped in thick bandages.

All of them looked to Xue Wuhen for an explanation.

Xue Wuhen was beside himself—he had never imagined that his little rascal of a disciple could, without guidance or instruction, comprehend the highest mind method of the Immaculate Sword Intent.

“This… truly, this has nothing to do with me! This isn’t something you can teach with words, and neither Sword Extreme nor Sword Law would allow it!” Xue Wuhen blurted, his words barely coherent.

Elder Murong frowned. Did he really not know about this?

The Sword Divine Guard’s face remained grim, giving no sign of relenting.

The Blade Divine Guard spoke icily, “The Lifeless Sword Treasury—few in all of Immaculate Peak have mastered it. Are you saying the heir of Yanbei figured it out on his own?”

Xue Wuhen tried to speak.

The Sword Divine Guard cut him off. “I’ll report this to the Divine Emperor and have him demand an explanation from Sword Extreme and Sword Law himself.”

Xue Wuhen was near despair. Why wouldn’t they believe him?

All he’d done, at most, was copy the sword manual for the boy…

That alone would give that iron-faced stickler on Thunderpeak plenty of reason to make a fuss.

Thinking of that relentless enforcer, Xue Wuhen’s expression grew even darker. He glared up at Fengqi on the platform, swearing to himself: Wait till you’re done fighting, you little brat—see how I deal with you!

Was this a power that should be revealed before so many eyes?

Just as everyone’s attention was converging on Xue Wuhen, Feng Muyun suddenly spoke: “Perhaps this truly has nothing to do with the Sword of Snowcloud.”

The Blade Divine Guard grunted.

Twice.

Feng Muyun withdrew his gaze from the platform, turning to the Blade Divine Guard. “Keep watching. You’ll understand.”

…