Volume One: The Turmoil of Yan and Yun Chapter Eighteen: The Rite of Wind and Sand (Part Five)

With the intervention of a Luminary Realm expert, the battle naturally could not continue. The ten-zhang dueling platform was already shattered, and even though the Yanbei Royal Court had prepared dozens of master craftsmen from the Valley of Divine Smiths for this Sandstorm Festival, repairs were not something that could be accomplished in a short time. Fortunately, perhaps only Yan Weixie, that madman, would mount the stage to challenge Feng Qi, so the overall impact would not be too great.

Feng Qi left the training grounds; no one knew exactly where he went. Yan Weixie followed Yan Fan up to the viewing stand, his expression already calm once more. Even though he had lost, no one dared covet his dueling platform. To have battled Feng Qi to such a standstill had essentially secured him the second place in the Sandstorm Festival.

Although the fights continued on the training grounds, the spectators had lost interest. After witnessing the spectacle just now, it was difficult for any other match to stir their excitement.

Feng Ling remarked with a hint of mockery, “All of Yanbei takes pride in him, but so what? In the end, he is but a passing traveler.”

Feng Yang was somewhat displeased, but said nothing.

Listening to the thunderous cheers, Feng Ling’s smile turned all the more sardonic. “To dwell outside the mundane, to cultivate immortality—do you really think it so easy? There are countless powerful beings on the Dao Yuan Continent, but how many have truly ascended?”

Feng Yang could listen no longer. “If the purpose of cultivation is only ascension, isn’t that a bit shallow?”

Feng Ling glanced at him. “Then is it for longevity?”

“At the very least, to live a little longer,” Feng Yang replied.

“Those who dwell outside the world rarely meddle in its affairs. Shenwei Fortress stands right here in Yanbei, but have you ever seen its disciples championing justice and blessing the people?” Feng Ling’s tone was scornful. “If they bring no benefit to the land, yet still consume the resources of the Divine Dynasty, what use is their long life? In the end, it’s nothing but selfish fear of death.”

“You can’t judge it that way,” Feng Yang said.

Feng Ling raised his eyebrows at him.

Feng Yang spoke earnestly. “Though they do not intervene in mortal affairs, do you not think that, before an invasion by foreign enemies, their power is a deterrent? Without those so-called dwellers beyond the world, the Divine Dynasty would long since have become prey to the demon race. True, they may not benefit a single region, but they are of value to all of humanity. Focusing only on punishing evil and doing good in one’s own backyard is a narrow view.”

After a pause, he continued, “Also, the people of Yanbei take pride in my elder brother, but that pride should not become his shackles. If one is bound by glory, how can it be called glory at all?”

Feng Ling was silent for a long time. At last, he sighed, his expression caught somewhere between sorrow and joy. “In that case, even if the heir leaves, you should be able to shoulder the great burden of Yanbei.”

“If that day truly comes, I might still need your help,” Feng Yang replied.

Feng Ling understood what he meant. This was not simply a matter of ‘many hands making light work.’

“We’ll see,” Feng Ling sighed again. “If I live to see that day.”

...

...

At last, Feng Ling left the stage. Feng Yang’s new opponent was a veiled girl, who did not seem to be local to Yanbei.

She was short, standing barely as tall as Feng Yang’s chest. He scratched his head, unsure how to begin.

The girl said nothing, calmly drawing her life-bound artifact from her Origin Palace.

It was a strange one—nothing but a flower, yet with two blossoms: one red, one blue.

The red healed, the blue killed—together, they were called the Twin Lives.

Feng Yang stared, thinking to himself: what is someone from the Southern Medicine Valley doing here in Yanbei?

Before he could ask, the Twin Lives Flower was already before him.

Artifact manipulation!

Feng Yang was startled. Could this girl really have broken through to Heart Resonance at her age?

He dodged aside, retreating a few steps, expression growing grave. Even with a Dao-born talent, it shouldn’t be possible to reach Heart Resonance at her age; he’d read the Soaring Cloud Rankings in his leisure, and even the top disciple of Mount Taixuan was only at Upper Heart Resonance. Medicine Valley could not be stronger than Mount Taixuan.

Why, then?

The Twin Lives Flower attacked again.

Feng Yang reached out, his spear tapping the blue blossom’s heart.

The flower was sent flying.

He paused, thinking, so that’s how it is. Most cultivators' life-bound artifacts were iron weapons difficult to manipulate purely with vital energy, but the Twin Lives Flower was so light it could be swayed by the wind, making it easy to control.

But if it was so light, it should also be fragile—so why couldn’t his Tyrant Spear pierce it?

That went against all common sense. He silently brushed aside the flower’s next attack, growing more suspicious and alert. Medicine Valley was a third-tier great sect—even a Hunyuan disciple should hardly be so feeble.

He frowned, weighing the most likely strategies the girl might employ.

Medicine Valley was known for its expertise in medicine—and in poison.

Poison?

The red blossom was immune to all toxins, the blue the king of poisons; neither could be contaminated by ordinary toxins, so as long as he avoided being struck by the blue flower, he should be safe.

But what if that wasn’t the danger?

If she truly wanted to win, why always pit the blue blossom directly against his spear? It was fast, but how could it break past his seven-foot radius of defense?

Just then, he caught a faint, delicate fragrance.

This is bad, Feng Yang thought, quickly covering his mouth and nose.

He realized he’d been poisoned.

How could that be?

His first instinct was to throw away the Tyrant Spear and use his blood energy to force out the toxin.

Steaming blood energy carried threads of azure.

“So it didn’t enter through the spear,” Feng Yang muttered gravely. “The air?”

From behind the veil, the girl’s voice sounded a touch triumphant. “With my cultivation, I can’t contaminate a spear forged of refined steel. But infusing poison into the air? That’s not too hard.”

Feng Yang said, “Even with the Twin Lives Flower, this is a bit much—especially since you’re only at Hunyuan stage.”

The girl laughed. “That’s because I’m also a Medicine Spirit Physique.”

Feng Yang was briefly stunned. “What does that mean?”

The girl replied seriously, “It means you don’t need to go to Mount Taixuan anymore.”

“If I remember correctly, your sect already refused me,” Feng Yang said.

“We did refuse the Princess of Yanbei,” the girl replied, “but we can’t refuse the Snowcloud Sword of Law.”

Now he understood why she was here.

“My big brother?” he asked.

“He’s probably gone to find the Sword of Law now.”

“Then now…”

The girl thought Feng Yang was hopelessly dense.

He looked at her anxiously, bare-chested and rather pitiful.

She raised her chin slightly. “Still not conceding? Must I poison you to death?”

Feng Yang glanced at the blue threads in his blood energy and said, “Toxins in the air can’t break my Last Stand.”

“But you can’t keep Last Stand active forever; it would destroy your body,” she countered.

He considered this and found her logic convincing.

So he decided to end it quickly.

With a blur, Feng Yang sprang forth like a tiger.

The girl dodged with ease.

A harsh screech sounded as Feng Yang’s boots left two long black marks across the ground; he barely managed to keep his balance as he twisted and hurled the Tyrant Spear.

With a whoosh, it sliced through the air like a soaring rainbow, whipping up a gale and sending the girl’s veil flying, revealing her startled face beneath.

The Medicine Valley was not famed for combat, and she rarely fought; for a moment she was stunned with fright.

The dazzling strike drew everyone’s attention.

Everyone recognized it instantly, and in alarm thought Feng Yang and the girl bore some grudge.

Suddenly, a figure appeared between the Tyrant Spear and the girl.

Feng Muyun caught the spear one-handed, looking at Feng Yang and slowly frowning.

Feng Yang cared little, merely addressing the girl: “Back when Medicine Valley humiliated my third uncle, though he took it lightly, I remember it well.”

He paused, then said seriously, “All of Yanbei remembers.”