Chapter Thirty-Six: Severing His Own Right Hand

“So Senior Yu Yang was the master of the Dragonflame Sword.” Chu Feng murmured to himself, his heart oddly calm. It made sense, after all; Yu Yang was the strongest person in history, and it was only natural for him to be the sword’s master.

“But is Senior Yu Yang alive or dead? Is there really no news at all?” Xu Yan asked.

“It’s been fifteen years, not a word,” Xu Lan replied, shaking her head. “The sacred artifact of the Human Clan must not be lost. You know, the greatest mission among the four divisions of Heaven, Earth, Mystics, and Radiance is related to this. Anyone who can provide accurate information and help find Yu Yang will be rewarded with five hundred thousand points. Anyone who brings back the Dragonflame Sword will receive a million points. These two missions have been posted for ten years now, but still, there hasn’t been any news.”

Chu Feng hadn’t yet grasped what these points meant, but Xu Yan was stunned. She had fought hard for nearly a month and only earned four hundred and twenty points; a million points was enough to tempt even the Spirit Warriors.

A shadow passed through Chu Feng’s heart. He thought to himself, “Of course there’s no news, because Senior Yu Yang is likely already dead, and the Dragonflame Sword is probably lost where he fell. No matter what, I should find a chance to report this to the elders.”

All these years, he was probably the only one who’d had any contact with Yu Yang, even if it was only a fleeting imprint of his consciousness. But Yu Yang’s memory was incomplete, and it was impossible to provide any concrete information.

At last, Chu Feng left alone, his heart in turmoil that refused to settle.

He reached for the small black sword hanging at his chest and murmured, “The world is full of twists and turns. The masses search for you, Senior, in vain, yet your spirit lingers on my little sword. We met by fate, and you guided me; perhaps this is what destiny means.”

Time flowed on, and three days quickly passed.

In those three days, news of Chu Feng becoming the leader of Team Nine spread like wildfire. Many were astonished; no one had expected the one always derided as the weakest to possess such strength, even becoming a Sword God.

Chu Feng, however, remained as he always had, immersed in sword practice. At the same time, his body grew ever stronger.

Yet, wherever he went these days, he always carried the Domain-Suppressing Sword, giving him the air of a wandering swordsman and drawing many curious glances.

One evening, as dusk approached, five figures—Qin Hao, Liu Guang, and three others—gathered at a secluded spot within the Twentieth Division.

“Chu Feng’s been making quite the splash lately. Who’d have thought a guy who can’t even spirit-transform could take first place in the Team Nine test? Looks like we did underestimate him,” Liu Guang said, a touch of scorn in his voice.

A flash of cold light appeared in Qin Hao’s eyes. “Those people are all useless. Sword God? What a joke. That kind of skill won’t get him anywhere. Does he really think he can enter the Earth Division? Without spirit transformation, everything is in vain.”

The others nodded in agreement, their faces filled with contempt and resentment. One of them asked, “Any news from Li Yi’s side?”

Li Yi was one of their group, and he’d been secretly watching Chu Feng these past few days.

Liu Guang replied, “He’s either in the training room, the dining hall, or his dorm. He leaves the training room very late at night—that’s our best chance.”

“Kong Ming happens to be free these days,” Qin Hao suggested. “Let’s act tonight or tomorrow night.”

Liu Guang nodded, a cold gleam in his eyes. “Fine, tomorrow night then. Let’s cripple his right hand. Sword God? Without a hand, what kind of Sword God could he be?”

Meanwhile, Chu Feng was still absorbed in sword practice at the training room. With seven hundred pounds on his back and the Domain-Suppressing Sword in hand, he moved with agility, running through his sword forms again and again, seeking the subtle truths behind each motion.

His swordsmanship had reached the realm of Sword God, yet every session brought new insights. Sometimes, he set aside all forms, letting his sword move as it willed; sometimes languid, sometimes as swift as lightning. His technique flowed like water, a mysterious aura gradually emerging.

Just as Chu Feng was reaching the height of his practice and paused for breath, a voice called out, “Boss, what a sword technique!”

Chu Feng turned in surprise to see Han Yan, Di Han, Lin Yun, and Gu Xin standing at the door.

“It’s you all,” Chu Feng smiled, sheathing his sword. He hadn’t seen them for a few days.

“A Sword God is indeed a Sword God. With your skill, Boss, there’s probably no one left in the world who can match you,” Gu Xin said.

“With your current strength, I doubt anyone in the entire Twentieth Division could be your opponent,” Han Yan added.

“You lot certainly know how to flatter,” Chu Feng scolded with a laugh, shaking his head. “So, what brings you here?”

Gu Xin said, “You’ve always been our role model, Boss. We’ve all been training hard. Since we’re all here today, let’s go out and celebrate your becoming the Sword God.”

“I’m fine with that, but let’s not go to that crazy Welcome Lodge again. The last test left us with a thousand taels of silver. Tonight, it’s my treat,” Chu Feng said.

“No problem!” they all replied at once.

Chu Feng shed his weights, took the Domain-Suppressing Sword, and left the newcomers’ division with his friends, heading straight for the gates of the Spirit Warrior Pavilion.

Hidden in the shadows behind them, Li Yi’s lips curled into a cold smile. He immediately sent word to Liu Guang and the others.

Elsewhere, when Qin Hao and Liu Guang received the news, they were overjoyed.

“Haha, he actually dares to come out! Heaven’s on our side. Inform Brother Kong Ming, let’s go greet him ourselves,” Liu Guang said.

Once outside the Spirit Warrior Pavilion, they had nothing to fear from its rules. Out there, opportunities abounded, and even if the patrolling soldiers caught them, their family backgrounds would keep them safe.

Chu Feng and his four companions wandered the busy market for a while, then found a modest inn and enjoyed a hearty meal. The food wasn’t as fine as at the Welcome Lodge, but had its own flavor.

“I never knew the food at these little places could be so good,” Di Han and the others remarked.

After dinner, Chu Feng paid the bill, which came to fifty taels.

They led their horses away, and as they walked through a quiet alley, seven men appeared ahead, blocking their path—it was Qin Hao’s group.

Chu Feng glanced at them and instantly knew their intent. Di Han and the others frowned; these seven were clearly up to no good. When they noticed Zhang Kong Ming among them, their expressions changed—he was from the Earth Division.

“So you’re Chu Feng?” Zhang Kong Ming stood with arms folded, his tone flat.

Chu Feng took note of Zhang Kong Ming—he hadn’t expected Qin Hao’s group to bring in someone from the Earth Division. He countered, “And who might you be?”

“You’re not worthy to know my name,” Zhang Kong Ming replied coolly.

Before Chu Feng could react, Di Han was already furious. Just an Earth Division student, yet he acted like he was some sort of genius. Di Han didn’t know Zhang Kong Ming, but he did recognize Liu Guang and understood his background. He said coldly, “Liu Guang, what are you planning?”

Liu Guang sneered, “I hear Chu Feng is obsessed with swordsmanship. Brother Kong Ming is here to give him some pointers—it’s his good fortune.”

Both sides knew the truth: this was just an excuse to pick a fight.

Han Yan laughed mockingly, pointing at Zhang Kong Ming. “Pointers? Our boss is already the Sword God. Who is he to give pointers?”

“Watch your mouth! You think you can address a senior so casually?” Qin Hao snapped.

Liu Guang added, “Di Han, I advise you to stay out of this, or you’ll regret it.”

Di Han and the others grew tense, worry in their eyes. An Earth Division student wasn’t much in the grand scheme, but compared to them, he was on another level—not someone to cross lightly.

Zhang Kong Ming strode forward, arrogance written all over his face. He glanced at Chu Feng and said coldly, “Draw your sword. Let me see if your skills are as great as they say. If you’re afraid, just break your own right hand, and we’ll let you go.”

He made no effort to hide his contempt.

Han Yan’s face paled, and he whispered, “Boss, a wise man doesn’t court disaster. Leave now, and we’ll hold him off. With our backgrounds, there’s only so much he can do to us.”

Gu Xin tugged at Chu Feng’s arm, signaling him quietly. After all, their opponent had already awakened his spirit body, and had trained in the Earth Division for some time. Though Chu Feng was strong, he’d never heard of anyone without a spirit body defeating an Earth Spirit Warrior.

Chu Feng was touched by their loyalty. He smiled, then spoke aloud, “There’s no escaping forever.”

He faced the prospect of battling an Earth Spirit Warrior with some uncertainty—he didn’t know what rank his opponent was. But bowing his head was simply not an option.

His eyes swept the group coldly, finally settling on Qin Hao, a glint of killing intent in his gaze. “Qin Hao, I warned you last time not to provoke me again. I only wish to slay monsters, not men. Don’t force me to make you my first.”

A chilling aura radiated from Chu Feng at that moment, so much so that Zhang Kong Ming frowned and Qin Hao involuntarily took a step back.

But then Qin Hao remembered that with Zhang Kong Ming here, Chu Feng couldn’t possibly prevail. He stepped forward again, his face twisted with mockery. “Arrogant as ever, Chu Feng. I almost admire your nerve, but you’re hardly qualified to speak like that.”

Chu Feng ignored him and motioned Han Yan and the others to back away. He turned to Zhang Kong Ming, his fighting spirit surging, and said calmly, “Let’s see what this so-called Earth Spirit Warrior is truly made of.”

In an instant, Chu Feng erupted with all his strength, flashing toward Zhang Kong Ming like a phantom.

Zhang Kong Ming immediately triggered his spirit transformation, revealing his golden spirit body, and met Chu Feng head-on, gathering his power for a palm strike.

Zhang Kong Ming sneered, “Looking for—”

Before the last word “death” left his lips, he saw a flash of sword light, and his right arm was severed.

Chu Feng swept past like a gust of wind. Before the severed limb could even hit the ground, a dull, grayish sword was at Zhang Kong Ming’s throat from behind. Not a drop of blood stained its blade.