Chapter Ninety-six: Encountering Xiao Fan Again

Chu Feng struggled with all his might, but it was entirely futile. His body was bound by an invisible force, unable to move even the slightest bit.

The strange and otherworldly man drew closer, always wearing that faint, mocking smile, as though studying his prey.

Though this man was but a manifestation of a profound spiritual will, as a Holy Spirit Warrior, his mental power was undoubtedly formidable, retaining all memories from his previous life.

A surge of excitement stirred within the man. In years past, he had perished here, using the last of his strength to coalesce this single strand of spiritual will.

He harbored a tremendous secret in his heart and longed to return a certain crucial item to the demon race. Yet, being no more than a spiritual remnant, he simply could not accomplish this on his own.

Thus, he had lain dormant for so long, guarding his own corpse, waiting for the right opportunity.

The Hundred Thousand Mountains were vast, and few ever entered. In the past century, aside from the occasional beast wandering in, no one had come this way.

Now, at last, someone had arrived—a weakling, no less. The man felt as if providence itself favored him. As the spiritual will of a Holy Spirit Warrior, he could easily seize control of this youngster’s mind and return to the demon race in this new body—by far the safest method.

Though Chu Feng did not fully grasp the man’s true intentions, he could tell from his words that he sought to seize his body.

The man was now only ten paces away. Chu Feng felt a powerful spiritual force assailing his mind, clouding his consciousness.

A chill ran through him. He had not expected to encounter such peril—truly, fate toyed with men’s lives.

All he could do now was resist with all his might and cling to lucidity.

“Spiritual attack! Of course, a spiritual attack!” Suddenly, a spark of hope lit within Chu Feng. This might be his only means of counterattack.

Gathering every shred of spiritual will dispersed around him, Chu Feng hurled it sharply at his foe.

After the violent collision, Chu Feng’s mind went momentarily blank, feeling as though he were an ant shaking a great tree.

When clarity returned, he saw the strange man standing utterly unshaken.

“I never thought a human could be so monstrous. You're clearly not a Celestial Spirit Warrior, yet your spiritual will is this strong. Pity you were born among humans!” the man’s words echoed in Chu Feng’s mind.

“I won’t let you, demon!” Chu Feng shouted, cold sweat pouring down his face. He hurled attack after attack, but could not shake the man in the least.

“Foolish!” A wave of mental energy surged from the man, and in an instant, he transformed into a stream of light, darting straight for Chu Feng’s head.

Cautious still, the man knew that, even as the spiritual will of a Holy Spirit Warrior, Chu Feng’s attacks drained his energy. He would end this quickly.

A tremendous spiritual pressure bore down on Chu Feng; his mind faded, teetering on the edge of collapse.

When that stream of light was less than a foot from his head, the tiny black sword at Chu Feng’s chest trembled, and in a flash, erupted with searing flames. An overwhelming force swept outward.

“Aaah! How can these flames be so strong…” The man’s scream echoed, then abruptly ceased, falling into silence.

In truth, the stream of spiritual light was extinguished the very instant it touched the fire.

The raging flames engulfed Chu Feng, surging outward. Wherever they swept, skeletons were reduced to ash, and the demon’s corpse vanished utterly. Though once comparable to a Holy Spirit Warrior, after a century, its essence had long since dissipated.

The flames tore through everything, shattering earth and stone, and finally obliterated the barrier over this place.

When the fire died down, the hill was gone, the land around left a desolate ruin. Chu Feng stood amidst the devastation, needing time to steady himself before his senses returned.

“Once again, you’ve saved me.” Chu Feng gazed at the small sword at his chest, deeply shaken. Had it not intervened, the consequences would have been dire.

His mind churned with thoughts. This sword was shrouded in mystery. It came from his parents, yet was hardly as ordinary as he’d imagined.

He now noticed, as before, the blade bore a new crack. He could not understand why.

“Could it be the sword’s power is limited? That when its energy is spent, it will finally break?” Chu Feng wondered.

After a moment’s silence, he returned to the pit. The demon’s body had turned to dust; only fragments of armor, a broken blade, and one other item remained—the very object the corpse had clutched in its left hand.

“No sense leaving demon treasures behind. Relics of a Holy Spirit Warrior—this is a great fortune!” Chu Feng murmured. He swept the broken blade and armor shards into his storage ring.

“Too bad he didn’t wear a storage ring.” He picked up the remaining item and examined it. It was strange indeed, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

The piece was neat, but incomplete, as if a square plaque had been snapped in half. It was purplish-red, covered in intricate patterns, made of some unknown metal, and bore the words “Heavenly Sovereign.”

It resembled a stele, but Chu Feng could not guess its purpose. Clearly, there had been more text, but with half missing, there was no way to know.

He studied it for a while, then muttered, “I wonder if ‘Heavenly Sovereign’ is a name or a place. I’ll have to investigate if I get the chance.”

He slipped the plaque into his storage ring. Anything a Holy Spirit Warrior would clutch unto death must be significant—a secret, perhaps.

Chu Feng calmed himself. Though beset by calamity, he had not come away empty-handed.

Sheathing his sword and preparing to depart, a clear, surprised voice rang out, “It’s you!”

Chu Feng stiffened and turned to see nine figures on a nearby hill—one in white, the others in black.

He was momentarily stunned by the coincidence—running into Xiao Fan and his party even here in the Hundred Thousand Mountains.

In truth, they had been drawn by the powerful energy fluctuations. Had the little sword not erupted, they would have missed each other entirely.

Chu Feng merely offered them a cold smile, saying nothing.

Xiao Fan’s group, meanwhile, gazed in shock at the ruined land all around. The energy just now had been terrifying. For a moment, they’d believed it the work of a peerless master. Only with utmost caution had they approached.

Never would they have expected to find Chu Feng here—a boy still unable to awaken his spirit.

Could it be that he was connected to what had happened? Though doubtful, they could not help but suspect.

The nine stood in silence, all convinced that some rare treasure must have appeared here.

Hatred for Chu Feng burned in Xiao Fan’s heart. If not for him, Xiao Yue—and that threat—would already be gone.

Face dark, Xiao Fan led his eight Ninth-Rank Earth Spirit Warriors down the slope, stopping a short distance from Chu Feng.

Xiao Fan fixed him with a cold smile. “It seems your luck has finally run out. Speak. Tell us what happened here, and perhaps I’ll grant you a swift death.”

Chu Feng returned the smile, equally icy. “I have nothing to say.”

With a snort, Xiao Fan replied, “So you refuse a toast and choose the penalty instead. No matter—you must have found some treasure here. Once you’re dead, I’ll claim it for myself. But a quick death is no longer possible for you.”

Chu Feng drew the Dominion Sword from his back, pointing it at them, utterly fearless. He said calmly, “You alone are not enough.”

“Hahaha, you must be mad!” Xiao Fan laughed. The others sneered as well. To them, a boy who hadn’t even awakened his spirit was beneath contempt.

“Shamelessness carries a price.” Chu Feng’s words were cool, yet carried unyielding confidence.

He had no wish to waste words on someone as treacherous and false as Xiao Fan. Their enmity was a blood feud by now; Chu Feng knew that, even if he did nothing, Xiao Fan would never let him go.

Without hesitation, Chu Feng charged at the nine, launching a mental assault simultaneously.

At first, the nine dismissed his attack, faces full of disdain. But in mere moments, their expressions froze, vision darkened, and consciousness blurred.

There was no suspense in the battle. Chu Feng could not give them any chance—these were Ninth-Rank Earth Spirit Warriors. Any opening would spell his doom.

As anguished screams rang out, one after another the nine collapsed. Each had three sword wounds to the chest, faces pale and bodies trembling.

Even so, it had not been easy for Chu Feng, for these men were far stronger than Sixth-Rank warriors.

Before, he had slain over twenty Sixth-Rank warriors with a single mental attack. This time was different.

Though Ninth-Rank Earth Spirit Warriors could not unleash spiritual will, their minds were far stronger than those of the sixth rank, so the confusion wrought by Chu Feng’s attack was brief.

Chu Feng could not risk letting them act. He bombarded them continuously with mental assaults, which left him exhausted as well.

The nine lay on the ground, terrified, stunned by the outcome—they had not even been given a chance to strike.

Sword in hand, Chu Feng strode up to Xiao Fan, who stared at him in horror. Chu Feng pointed his blade at him and said coldly, “I told you, you alone are not enough.”