Chapter 98: Duan Yi

Mo Chen was a man of deep scheming, the type who delighted in manipulating others. Though his own strength was considerable, he was unwilling to act personally against Chu Feng, choosing instead to bide his time for the right opportunity.

The day Chu Feng visited the Yu Residence with Yu Feng, Mo Chen had already taken notice. He began investigating discreetly and soon uncovered the enmity between Chu Feng and Duan Liming’s group. Conveniently, his second brother, Mo Jianfeng, was stationed in the Mysterious Battalion and was quite familiar with Duan Liming and the others.

It could be said that Mo Chen’s plot was laid out almost from the moment Chu Feng left the Holy City, and Chu Feng’s departure had only escaped Mo Chen’s notice. The seemingly coincidental encounter between Chu Feng and Duan Liming’s group was, in truth, orchestrated by Mo Chen. Unbeknownst to them, Duan Liming and the rest had become his pawns, with Mo Jianfeng—the only survivor among the five that day—secretly manipulating events.

Mo Chen, following Chu Feng’s movements, instructed Mo Jianfeng to subtly guide Duan Liming and his companions. What he truly wanted was for Chu Feng to kill them, provoking the wrath of the Eastern King’s clan and dooming Chu Feng to relentless pursuit and eventual destruction.

What he had not foreseen was that Chu Feng, shrewder than he imagined, refrained from killing Duan Liming and the others, not wishing to make enemies of the Eastern King’s clan. Unwilling to let his plan collapse, Mo Chen personally slew Duan Liming’s group, with his brother Mo Jianfeng providing irrefutable testimony.

Now, as he faced Chu Feng, the memory of his meticulous plotting flashed unbidden through Mo Chen’s mind, and hatred seethed within him. By his calculations, Chu Feng should have been dead, the truth of Duan Liming’s death buried forever. But now Chu Feng had returned alive, an unexpected twist that might bring trouble—even if the Eastern King himself might not move against Mo Chen, even should the truth come to light.

After a long silence, Chu Feng smiled faintly and said, “You didn’t expect me to return alive, did you?”

Mo Chen’s heart sank, though his face remained calm. “What does it have to do with me?”

“Is that so?” Chu Feng replied with a small smile, unwilling to argue further, and took his leave.

In the days that followed, Chu Feng noticed a marked increase in the number of Heaven Battalion members—no doubt a result of the approaching Sacred Trial, drawing students back from all corners.

Chu Feng’s anticipation grew; he had not seen Long Yue for over a year. While contemplating the Way of the Sword, he also sorted through his spoils. A hundred soldiers’ storage pouches was no small haul.

Each pouch contained some spirit stones, ranging from dozens to over a hundred apiece, totaling more than six thousand. There were ninety-nine intact battle sabers, over twenty spirit herbs, several healing elixirs and salves, and a miscellany of other treasures, including energy-replenishing pills.

Adding in the spirit herbs he had previously gathered and those seized from Duan Liming’s group, Chu Feng now owned thirty-six varieties of spirit herbs, of which eleven were ones he needed.

With over six thousand spirit stones to spend at the Spirit Battle Pavilion, the surplus sabers and herbs were of little use to Chu Feng, so he decided to dispose of them.

These items could be exchanged for points at the Spirit Battle Pavilion. Even family treasures could be surrendered in exchange for points, though few families were willing, as true strength could not be bought, and geniuses required no such aid, while the incapable remained so regardless.

Moreover, the exchange rate was not generous; the Pavilion only valued items at half their worth.

These sabers meant nothing to Chu Feng, so he converted them all for points. The Spirit Artifact Hall appraised them as mid-grade earth-level artifacts; each intact saber was worth fifteen points, broken ones only five.

It was not a fortune, but Chu Feng’s quantity was impressive. The staff were momentarily stunned by the sheer number of sabers, and he received a total of 1,495 points.

He also exchanged the broken saber taken from the demon tribesman. Though it was useless to keep, its origin as a Saintly Warrior’s weapon promised value.

To his surprise, the saber was deemed a mid-grade saint-level artifact. Though ruined, its materials alone fetched 1,300 points.

The windfall was astonishing—Chu Feng now possessed 2,795 points.

He then exchanged twenty-five surplus spirit herbs at the Spirit Herb Hall for another 920 points. With the 203 points he had left from before, Chu Feng’s total reached 3,918.

The year’s gains were immense, though the greatest reward remained the six thousand spirit stones.

On his eighth day back at the Pavilion, Chu Feng received visitors: Sun Xuan, Han Wen, Zhu Miaomiao, Wang Chengfei, Xie Xiaolan, and Guo Fan. A year’s absence had seen them all grow.

They knew Chu Feng had likely left the Holy City. Having recently emerged from seclusion, they soon heard of his public berating of the Eastern King. Their expressions were rather peculiar upon seeing him.

Naturally, conversation turned to this incident. Chu Feng, though reluctant, admitted he had narrowly escaped death.

Through his friends, Chu Feng learned that Yu Wenfeng was indeed as arrogant and strong as rumored.

Only two months prior, Yu Wenfeng had challenged the strongest of the Newcomer Battalion—Sun Xuan, Han Wen, Zhu Miaomiao, and Wang Chengfei. According to them, Yu Wenfeng was overbearingly arrogant and frighteningly powerful. Each had faced him in turn and suffered crushing defeats, the bouts ending within twenty moves.

Though dissatisfied, they could not deny that Yu Wenfeng’s progress over the past year had outstripped even their own. They estimated he was now a sixth-rank earth-level spirit warrior.

“Be careful—he may come for you,” Sun Xuan warned, knowing the tension between Chu Feng and Yu Wenfeng.

“Don’t worry,” Chu Feng laughed. “I too am curious to see just how strong this so-called King of Battle has become.”

“Brother Chu, that Yu Wenfeng is far too arrogant. When the time comes, you must teach him a lesson—we believe in you!” Zhu Miaomiao added.

To the group, Chu Feng’s return to the Holy City after publicly cursing the Eastern King meant his experiences over the past year had been anything but simple. Involving Saintly Warriors was no small matter. They believed that if Chu Feng lacked sufficient strength, he would not have survived.

At dawn, Chu Feng rose early, spent an hour in meditation on the Way of the Sword, then strolled leisurely through the Spirit Battle Pavilion.

Unconsciously, he wandered into a garden and could not help but wear a wry smile. He knew this place well—it was the lair that Liu Yantao had spoken of.

By the garden was a stone table, usually hidden by Liu Yantao’s barrier. Chu Feng sent out his spiritual sense and quickly detected its presence.

“That Liu Yantao really has made this place his den. Squatting here and doing nothing—how like him. But he should be returning soon,” Chu Feng mused.

Suddenly, a chill ran through him—killing intent!

He looked up to see a richly dressed young man approaching, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

The man was about Chu Feng’s age, tall and graceful, with hair flowing and features striking—a figure of clear distinction.

To Chu Feng, it was obvious—this was a formidable opponent, perhaps even on par with Mo Xuan.

The youth stopped beside Chu Feng, glanced at the sword slung on his back, then fixed his eyes upon him and said coolly, “You are Chu Feng?”

“That’s right,” Chu Feng replied evenly, though inwardly he did not dare be careless. “And you are?”

“Duan Yi,” the young man answered calmly.

A flicker of realization crossed Chu Feng’s mind—at last, someone from the Eastern King’s clan had appeared, and such a talent at that.

Yet Chu Feng felt no guilt; his conscience was clear. Right was on his side—why should he fear, whether his opponent was a genius or a fool?

“If you’ve come for revenge, you’re looking for the wrong man. I can tell you plainly, I did not kill Duan Liming and the others,” Chu Feng declared.

Duan Yi’s expression did not change. “The Eastern King’s clan cannot be insulted.”

Chu Feng let out a cold laugh, anger flaring. “So the Eastern King’s clan can be arrogant and overbearing? Even if I cursed him a few times, with all he’s done, if I had the power, I’d storm his lair myself!”

Duan Yi’s face darkened, his aura erupting as he unleashed his spiritual power, coldly declaring, “Those who offend the Eastern King’s clan must die. Do you think the protection of Long Yue will save you?”

Chu Feng’s body was stronger than a mid-grade earth-level artifact; mere pressure could not move him. He stood his ground, voice icy. “I, Chu Feng, act with a clear conscience. My life is worthless, my death nothing to mourn. If your clan insists on persecution, so long as I draw breath, I will fight you to the end!”

“Arrogant! You are not worthy!” As Duan Yi’s words fell, spirit power surged in his hand. He struck at Chu Feng.

Chu Feng knew his foe was formidable, perhaps beyond his ability to contend with. But his heart felt no fear. In an instant, he gathered his spiritual might, launching an attack at Duan Yi’s mind as he drew the Sword of Dominion and charged forward.

Duan Yi’s face flashed with surprise as the spiritual assault caused a moment’s pain in his mind, his body pausing involuntarily.

But the effect was slight; it only delayed him for a heartbeat, not enough to make him lose consciousness. Regaining himself, Duan Yi pressed the attack.