“What is wrong with this fellow? Utterly baffling!”
Wen Qingye cursed furiously in his heart.
His relationship with Feng Buting had never been particularly good.
To be precise, there were very few sword cultivators in the entire Nanxiang Prefecture who could catch the eye of this Sword Lineage Elder.
Simply because... his surname was Feng.
The Feng Clan of Bixia was the direct lineage descendants of Feng Qingyang, the “Qingyang Sword Immortal” who had reached the Xiantian Divine Ability Rank hundreds of years ago.
A Sword Immortal.
That meant possessing sword-intent.
And since the founding of Great Qi, those who had comprehended sword-intent could be counted on one hand.
Looking across the entirety of Cangzhou, there had only ever been one—the “Qingyang Sword Immortal.”
Such ancestral glory indeed gave the Feng Clan every reason to walk with their heads held high.
Moreover, Feng Buting himself was no mediocre talent.
Although his sword talent was not supreme and he had never comprehended sword-glow, his constitution and comprehension were both extraordinary.
He had fully mastered and perfected all twelve of the Feng Clan's high-grade sword techniques.
Having cultivated martial arts for over forty years, he had broken through the barrier of the Gangjin Rank, granting him a lifespan of over two hundred years.
With such talent, he would be considered a notable figure even in Cangzhou City, where elites gathered like clouds.
Because of this, in Nanxiang Prefecture, whether it was Tingquan Academy or the Qingyuan Sword Pavilion, they were all second-rate in his eyes.
It was not until a few years ago when Wen Qingye broke through to the Gangjin Rank, successively comprehending sword-qi and condensing sword-yuan, that this descendant of the Sword Immortal finally looked upon him with a modicum of respect.
Feng Buting had once publicly commented:
“Among the sword cultivators of Nanxiang, only Wen of the Star-Plucking Sect is acceptable.”
Acceptable?!
Your Feng Clan had only produced a single person in this generation who had even comprehended sword-glow, yet you dared to point fingers and critique a sword cultivator who had condensed sword-yuan?
Wen Qingye was in his prime back then; how could he tolerate such words?
That very day, he had taken his sword and marched up Bicang Peak alone.
No outsider knew the outcome of that battle.
However, from then on, the members of the Feng Clan never spoke arrogantly to Wen Qingye again, nor did they ever point fingers.
Yet today, Feng Buting was reverting to his old ways, throwing a sarcastic, passive-aggressive tantrum.
How could Wen Qingye hold back now? He sneered,
“You with the surname Feng!”
“It has been a few years since we last sparred. Have you forgotten the sharpness of my sword-yuan?”
“Hmph!”
Feng Buting’s thick brows instantly knitted together, his already gloomy face turning a shade of dark red.
He swept his sleeves, rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword, and barked,
“Fine!”
“Bring it on!”
“Right here, let us settle this once and for all! Whoever loses will take the surname Feng from now on!”
Wen Qingye was almost amused to the point of laughter by his anger. He snapped,
“You old dog, your skin is three times thicker than that bald monk's!”
Beside them, the Marquis of Zhenhai, Dong Fu, saw that the two of them were genuinely furious. He quickly stepped between them, spreading his arms and pressing down slightly to defuse the tension.
“Brothers! Brothers, with a major event at hand, let us not ruin our harmony!”
“Hmph!”
Feng Buting snorted coldly. Taking the offered way out, he released his grip on the sword hilt and said arrogantly,
“I will show Marquis Dong some respect and not lower myself to your level.”
Wen Qingye clenched his teeth in anger. However, not wanting to cause unnecessary trouble on the eve of a major event, he forced himself to swallow his rage. He cursed inwardly,
What is this old fool going crazy over? I haven't seen him in years, so why is he so incredibly furious?
As he was wondering, he saw Feng Buting narrow his eyes. His powerful divine sense swept across the entire field without any reservation, as if searching for something.
A moment later, he suddenly sneered, his gaze returning to Wen Qingye as he mocked with a sarcastic tone,
“You with the surname Wen!”
“I heard you recently took on another disciple, some fellow called the ‘Moonlight Sword’? With such a grand gathering today, why is that kid nowhere to be seen?”
“Could it be... he is afraid of dying in that... Blessed Land?”
“Oh?”
Wen Qingye was taken aback at first, but then, a realization suddenly struck him.
Immediately after, the disgust on his face receded like the tide. The corners of his mouth curled up uncontrollably, and his expression turned visibly joyful.
So that's how it is...
I knew this old thief wanted to recruit a disciple with supreme sword talent, yet there had been no news of it for the longest time!
So this was the reason!
Laughing silently to himself, his gaze drifted past the crowd and landed beneath the old locust tree at the edge of the martial arts field. He called out,
“Xiuhan, come over here!”
Under the shade of the tree, a familiar voice suddenly rang in Shen Xiuhan's ear.
It was so clear it felt as if someone were whispering right next to his ear, yet only he could hear it.
This made him pause in surprise.
“It is just a True Qi transmission. Once you break through to the Huajin Rank, you will naturally learn it. No need to be surprised.”
Beside him, Wen Zheng crossed his arms over his chest, chin gesturing toward the small courtyard. With a mischievous grin of someone anticipating a good show, he said leisurely,
“Go on!”
“The old man is about to show off in front of that Feng fellow.”
Shen Xiuhan's eyes flickered, immediately understanding the situation.
No longer hesitating, he gathered the force beneath his feet and leaped into the air, soaring across the martial arts field like a golden eagle spreading its wings.
With a few light taps of his toes against the stone wall to gain leverage, his figure landed steadily in front of the Gangjin Rank experts.
He landed soundlessly, his robes completely undisturbed.
Shen Xiuhan straightened his robes, cupped his fists, and bowed formally. His voice was clear and respectful:
“Disciple Shen Xiuhan greets the seniors!”
Before the echo of his voice could fade, and before Wen Qingye could even speak, Feng Buting's eyes bulged. He pointed at Shen Xiuhan and roared at Wen Qingye:
“You old scoundrel!”
“Do you take me for a three-year-old child?”
“Your young disciple only reached the Great Accomplishment of the Anjin Rank just over a month ago. Yet this boy clearly has his nine acupoints fully integrated and his force flowing seamlessly—he is obviously at the Great Perfection of the Anjin Rank!”
“Just to show off in front of me, you actually found someone else to impersonate him! Have you truly no shame left?!”
Hearing this, Wen Qingye was not angered at all. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed uproariously, his laughter filled with mockery:
“You old thief Feng!”
“You are the grand Sword Lineage Elder of Mount Bixia, yet you know when my disciple joined the sect and when he broke through even better than the managers in my own academy. Now, what could be the reason for that?”
“You... I... you...”
Feng Buting choked on his words, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down several times, but he could not squeeze out a single word.
Wen Qingye did not press his advantage. He merely looked at Shen Xiuhan with satisfaction and said nonchalantly,
“Xiuhan, since Elder Feng is so concerned, why don't you prove it to him?”
“Yes,” Shen Xiuhan replied softly, his expression calm.
He slowly raised his right hand, pressing his index and middle fingers together into a sword-finger, and pointed upward slightly.
Swish!
A beam of white glow suddenly condensed at his fingertips.
The white glow was only an inch long, yet its sharpness was heart-stopping.
It flickered unpredictably, emitting a faint, high-pitched hum.
Even from several yards away, everyone present felt a stinging sensation on their cheeks, as if countless fine needles were suspended in the air, ready to pierce down at any moment.
Among the six juniors Feng Buting had brought along, the man standing at the very front was a Huajin Rank cultivator. His pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty as he muttered in a daze,
“Sword... sword-glow!”
This person was none other than one of the “Seven Elegances of the Feng clan,” Feng Wuque.
The young men and women standing behind him were also elite talents meticulously selected from the younger generation of the Bixia Sword Lineage.
One Huajin Rank expert, along with four geniuses at the Great Accomplishment and Great Perfection of the Anjin Rank.
In any sect within Nanxiang Prefecture, they would be outstanding figures capable of standing on their own.
Yet at this moment...
Their expressions were almost identical, cast from the same mold.
Shock, envy, and disbelief...
All of these emotions were tangled together on their young faces.
Feng Buting was no exception.
He stared fixedly at the white glow, his lips trembling several times, yet he could not utter a single word.
Swish!
Shen Xiuhan withdrew his sword-finger, and the white glow instantly vanished as if it had never existed.
Then, he bowed formally and said with humble composure,
“Elder, this disciple was fortunate enough to receive treasures from the sect. After many days of secluded cultivation, my cultivation has only progressed slightly...”
Feng Buting stared at him blankly.
Within his usually critical eyes, a storm of complex emotions swirled—joy, regret, and even a trace of acceptance...
Behind him stood a young man who bore a strong resemblance to Feng Buting.
This was his own son, Feng Wuyu.
While others might not understand Feng Buting's feelings, Feng Wuyu understood them all too well.
After all, he had been present for every matter regarding Shen Xiuhan and the Bixia Sword Lineage.
He was the one who had personally delivered that entry file.
He was also the one ordered to hand over the gazette of the Chronicles of the Nanxiang Wind and Clouds.
He knew perfectly well!
Ever since they missed out on this boy, although his father never mentioned it aloud, he would send people to buy the Chronicles of the Nanxiang Wind and Clouds every few days, specifically searching for any news related to Shen Xiuhan.
He would read it for half the day, then silently close it without saying a single word.
What a pity...
Looking at his father's back, Feng Wuyu sighed silently, thinking to himself:
Some people, once missed, are gone forever...
Up front, Feng Buting remained silent for a long time before finally letting out a long sigh. He turned his head away, refusing to even look at Wen Qingye, and muttered under his breath,
“I'll give you this one, Wen. You win.”
Rate on N.U.
