Chapter 103: The Man with the Charred Face

Dragons, unlike ordinary demon clans, are a race profoundly favored by the heavens. Their bodies are immensely robust, gifted with extraordinary talent, and each individual possesses great power. Though their numbers are few, every dragon is comparable to a warrior of holy spirit. The demon clans have fought against the human race for tens of thousands of years, yet rarely has a dragon fallen in battle—this fact alone speaks to their formidable strength.

Now, the dragons reign as the imperial family of all demon clans, commanding every direction. For the humans, seeking even a single dragon bone is an almost insurmountable task. In Xiao Yue’s eyes, the prospect of finding a dragon bone is nearly impossible; it is little wonder that even a generation’s greatest alchemist would call it an impossible feat.

Chu Feng and Xiao Yue bid farewell to Master Jin, and as they traveled, Xiao Yue’s expression remained calm, yet Chu Feng could tell his mood was low—an inevitable disappointment when hope turns to despair.

“Though it is difficult, hope is not extinguished. I believe we can find a dragon bone. Besides, there are so many perilous lands within our human territory; perhaps one hides a dragon bone,” Chu Feng comforted him.

“Even if I remain a sixth-rank earth spirit warrior for life, at least I am alive. You need not risk yourself for me,” Xiao Yue said, moved.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” Chu Feng replied.

For the next three days, Chu Feng secluded himself in his villa, immersing himself in the Way of the Sword.

“How odd, I haven’t seen Long Yue for three days. What could she be up to?” Chu Feng wondered as he walked along the flagstone path, surrounded by lush grass and fragrant flowers, the atmosphere serene.

“Brother, I finally found you!” Suddenly, an aggrieved cry reached Chu Feng’s ears.

Chu Feng turned, startled, and saw a figure rushing toward him. The newcomer seemed to be a man, with flowing hair and a stylish outfit, but his appearance was utterly wretched. He was gaunt and as black as coal; his skin, face, hands, even his teeth were pitch-black, and his clothes matched the darkness. Only the whites of his eyes stood out amidst the gloom.

“Oh my goodness, what manner of creature is this—are you even human?” Chu Feng exclaimed, startled, and swiftly sidestepped.

The coal-black man had intended to embrace Chu Feng and weep, but his steps were unsteady, his body weak, and Chu Feng’s quick dodge left him grasping at air.

“Brother, you don’t recognize me anymore!” The coal-black man sat down, sounding as pitiful as could be.

Chu Feng paused, recognizing something familiar in his voice. He stepped closer, scrutinized the man, but found nothing in his memory to match this charred figure.

“Ahem, Black Brother, are you sure you’ve got the right person?” Chu Feng asked.

The coal-black man stood up, though his facial expression was unreadable. He declared indignantly, “Damn it, Chu Feng, after only a few days you can’t recognize your brother Liu Yantao?”

“What? You’re Brother Liu!” Chu Feng’s eyes nearly popped from his head, petrified in disbelief that this coal-black man was actually the suave rogue Liu Yantao.

“Yes, it's me!” Liu Yantao exclaimed, excited.

Chu Feng stared at him for a long while before finally asking, “Brother Liu, how did you end up like this? Are you about to ascend to heaven?”

Liu Yantao looked as though he might cry, glaring at Chu Feng, “It’s all thanks to your Long Yue and that damned Murong Qiuxue!”

“What happened?” Chu Feng was both shocked and amused by Liu Yantao’s current state.

After a bout of complaints from Liu Yantao, Chu Feng finally understood what Murong Qiuxue and Long Yue had been up to these past days.

Liu Yantao had been confined in Murong Qiuxue’s villa training room, suffering all manner of torment—mostly at Qiuxue’s hands, with Long Yue only assisting. According to Liu Yantao, falling into Murong Qiuxue’s grasp meant being thoroughly abused. He had been forced to ingest countless poisons, including those that induced desire, and with his body completely restricted, taking such drugs was pure torture.

His pitch-black skin was caused by one of those concoctions.

“Brother Liu, it’s nothing. A man should bear his burdens silently. You must realize, even debauchery has its price,” Chu Feng said, unable to suppress a smile.

Liu Yantao glared, retorting, “Debauchery? It’s called appreciation! You wouldn’t understand the beauty!”

“Brother, after being tormented like this, let’s see if you dare appreciate beauty again. You’d better go to the Spirit Medicine Hall; spend some points and you should recover,” Chu Feng advised.

“My handsome face! You’re partly to blame—you didn’t keep your woman in check!” Liu Yantao complained. For Murong Qiuxue and Long Yue, he was now truly terrified, venting his grievances at Chu Feng.

Liu Yantao departed, leaving Chu Feng secretly awed by the two women’s ferocity. He understood now why they hadn’t told him—they feared he would intervene.

Not long after, Chu Feng met Long Yue.

“Little Yue, you two were ruthless! Liu Yantao’s been tormented to the point he barely looks human,” Chu Feng said, pinching her nose.

Long Yue stuck out her tongue, embarrassed. “Brother Feng, you found out?”

“How could I not? The moment he escaped, he came to complain. All those schemes must have been Murong Qiuxue’s—she’s clever, knew he valued his looks, and made him look like a ghoul.”

“He kept peeking at Sister Qiuxue. This time, she made sure he suffered. I just helped keep him restrained,” Long Yue explained.

Chu Feng smiled, nodding. “It’s good for him to taste hardship. He can recover, right?”

Long Yue laughed, “Of course. It’ll just take three months.”

Chu Feng broke out in a cold sweat. “You’re wicked—three months! With that appearance, attending the Saint’s Trial, he’ll become famous whether he wants to or not.”

In the following days, Chu Feng and Long Yue visited Xu Lan, though they did not meet Xu Yan.

The two were inseparable, causing envy and jealousy among the men of the Heavenly Camp. Long Yue had her own villa, Chu Feng his, and they alternated between the two.

With the Saint’s Trial approaching, Long Yue focused on adjusting her state, while Chu Feng continued to meditate on the Way of the Sword.

Chu Feng’s understanding of swordsmanship grew greatly, a result of prolonged life-and-death tempering. When he swung his blade, the spiritual energy gathered upon it was now three inches thick, its mysterious power constantly increasing. His combat ability rose further; without using spiritual attacks, he could now match a late sixth-rank earth spirit warrior.

Long Yue was astonished, believing he might rediscover that ethereal state he once achieved.

Chu Feng himself sensed he was drawing closer to that elusive realm, no longer as distant as before.

At last, the day of the Saint’s Trial arrived, and the trial grounds opened.

The arena was not large, with stands that could accommodate only two thousand people. The viewing stands and the central dueling platform were both covered in intricate runes.

As the trial grounds opened, the runes began to glow, their lines converging toward the central platform.

The Saint’s Trial was built for cultivators, and only three hundred or so students participated. Most were from the Heavenly Camp, the rest—about ninety—came from the Earth Camp, with a handful from the Profound Camp, and none at all from the Yellow Camp.

Very soon, the arena filled with around fifteen or sixteen hundred people. Besides the three hundred trial participants, the audience was mainly elite students from the Earth and Profound Camps. Though they could not participate, even watching promised great benefit.

The trial participants gathered on the stands near the dueling platform, and soon instructors began to arrive.

These instructors were all connected to the trial participants, allowed to observe the Saint’s Trial. Among them were Xiao Yue and Pang Xian.

Chu Feng sat among the crowd, with Long Yue and Murong Qiuxue to his left, Sun Xuan, Han Wen, and others to his right.

With the two brightest pearls of the Heavenly Camp seated beside him, Chu Feng naturally became the focus of all eyes. If looks could kill, he would have perished a thousand times over.

The Heavenly Camp’s geniuses were all gathered: Chu Feng spotted Mo Xuan, Mo Chen, and Duan Yi. He met their cold stares with calm indifference.

“Sister, move over so I can sit next to Brother Chu,” said a man in white, causing a commotion.

“Where did this coal-black man come from?”

“Is he even human?”

“This is a living miracle!”

Sun Xuan was stunned at the sight, thinking, “Good heavens, where did this charcoal come from?”

It was Liu Yantao. He had been elusive these days, rarely seen in the Heavenly Camp, but the Saint’s Trial was too important to miss.

Chu Feng grinned at Liu Yantao, who remained as black as ever—white clothes could not change it.

Sun Xuan and the others, realizing the coal-black man knew Chu Feng, shifted aside.

Liu Yantao glared at the murmuring crowd. “What are you staring at? Never seen such a handsome guy?”

The crowd was speechless, but Liu Yantao ignored them—his thick skin was nothing new.

He was about to sit when Murong Qiuxue and Long Yue both glared, their eyes fierce.

For these two women, Liu Yantao was truly terrified. Remembering his ordeal, he shuddered, his body frozen and unable to sit.

“All right, you’ve bullied him enough. Don’t scare him anymore,” Chu Feng said with a laugh. Murong Qiuxue and Long Yue withdrew their gaze, no longer paying him any mind.