Chapter 610: Give up? Or die!

Jiang Feng didn't know how long he had been unconscious.

Perhaps it was only an instant, perhaps longer.

The multicolored light flickered outside his eyelids, brightening and dimming, as if playing a soundless melody.

Then the light faded.

His consciousness slowly returned, rising bit by bit from the depths of chaos.

Jiang Feng opened his eyes.

Sunlight stabbed into his pupils; he squinted, waiting until he adjusted before fully opening his eyes.

Then he froze.

He saw a courtyard.

This courtyard was all too familiar to him.

The Su family.

Jiangcheng's Su family.

Jiang Feng jerked upright.

His body still ached; the wounds left by the Weak Water had not fully healed, the new skin was tender and thin, and even a touch hurt.

But he couldn't worry about that; he pushed himself up from the ground and looked around.

How had he come back?

Wasn't he in Kunlun Void?

How did he suddenly return to Jiangcheng, to the Su family?

Jiang Feng's mind was a tangled mess, countless thoughts fighting inside.

He stood there, brows furrowed, trying to sort out what had happened, but each thought was overturned by the next, leaving him with no clue.

At that moment, he heard footsteps.

He turned his head and saw that man.

The man stood at the courtyard gate, his gray robe swaying lightly in the wind, his hair tied with a wooden pin, a few strands falling over his shoulders.

His expression remained calm, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, bearing a faint smile—different from before.

"Having passed through Wuliang Mountain Peak, you have already proven your will,"

The man spoke, his voice not loud but clear.

"Having passed through the Weak Water, you have tempered your Golden Body."

"Now you are only one step away: Spiritual Tempering."

Spiritual Tempering.

Jiang Feng repeated those four words, vaguely understanding something but still not clear.

"After all, you were once wounded by the Soul Melting Technique; to regain your peak, you must hone your will. Your Divine Soul suffered severe damage under the Soul Melting Technique; although it has healed somewhat over those years at Wuliang Mountain Peak, the cracks remain, like a broken vase that's been glued— the seams still show. If you don't grind away those seams completely, you will never return to your peak."

His gaze shifted from Jiang Feng and swept over the courtyard.

"And this place is the most suitable for you."

Jiang Feng stared for a moment.

Before he could ask what had happened…

Then he saw a person.

A woman walked from the end of the Qing Stone Path, wearing a white dress, her hair loose over her shoulders, a smile on her face.

Su Xueyan.

Jiang Feng's pupils dilated slightly.

He watched her approach, saw her familiar smile, saw her bright eyes, and a complex emotion welled up in his heart…

He hadn't seen her in a long time.

During those years in Kunlun Void, he climbed the mountain every day, his mind filled with only one thing: to climb upward.

He had no time to think of anything else, no time for Jiangcheng, no time for the Su family, no time for her.

But now, seeing her standing before him, those long‑suppressed emotions surged up, lodging in his throat, rendering him speechless.

Su Xueyan walked up to him, stopped, and looked at him.

Her gaze swept over his face, seeing the wounds not yet fully healed, his hands covered in scars and old calluses, and his tattered, ragged clothing.

But she did not ask.

She merely smiled, a natural smile.

"Jiang Feng, where have you been?"

Her voice was soft and gentle, carrying a reassuring warmth.

Jiang Feng's throat moved; he wanted to answer but didn't know how.

He opened his mouth, but before the words came out, his body suddenly tensed.

He felt it.

From far away, at an inconceivable speed, a force surged toward him. It was immensely powerful—far beyond what his present body could withstand.

His pupils contracted sharply; his body reacted faster than his mind.

He turned, grabbed Su Xueyan and pulled her behind him, using his body to shield her.

Then he saw those people.

Outside the courtyard gate, a crowd had appeared at some point.

At their lead was Linghu Xue, dressed in black combat attire, hair pulled high, face cold, eyes sharp.

Behind her followed a dozen or so black‑clad figures, each with a robust aura, at least Grandmaster‑Realm experts.

Linghu Xue stood at the gate, her gaze icy as she swept it across the courtyard.

The corner of her mouth twitched up slightly, revealing a cold smile; that smile held no kindness, only contempt and disdain.

"Su Xueyan..."

She spoke, her voice sharp and piercing.

"Come with me back to the Linghu Family immediately."

Su Xueyan's face changed.

She poked her head out from behind Jiang Feng, looking at Linghu Xue, her lips trembling slightly, but she said nothing.

Her hand instinctively grabbed Jiang Feng's clothes, gripping tightly until her knuckles turned white.

Jiang Feng sensed her fear. He gritted his teeth and took a step forward.

He placed himself between Su Xueyan and Linghu Xue.

His body still ached, the wound from the Weak Water still healing, his dantian remained empty, and he couldn't mobilize even a thread of true qi.

But he couldn't let Linghu Xue take Su Xueyan away.

Linghu Xue watched Jiang Feng block the front, her cold smile deepening.

Her gaze swept over Jiang Feng from head to toe, then toe to head, as if she were looking at a pile of trash.

"Jiang Feng, you're nothing but trash now!"

Her voice was full of mockery.

"You still dare to block this young lady?"

Jiang Feng didn't speak. He simply stood there, eyes locked on Linghu Xue, his body tense like a drawn string.

Linghu Xue couldn't be bothered with more talk. She raised her hand and casually swept it toward Jiang Feng.

A terrifying force surged from her palm like a heavy hammer, slamming solidly into Jiang Feng's chest.

Jiang Feng felt his body lift off the ground.

His body traced an arc in the air, then crashed heavily to the ground, sliding several feet away and leaving a long trail.

His mouth filled with a bloody, sweet‑sour taste that rose from his throat and trickled out the corner of his mouth.

He lay on the ground, gasping heavily, his vision darkening in waves.

Linghu Xue's palm strike didn't use her full strength.

She might have used less than ten percent of her power.

But for Jiang Feng as he is now, that strike was enough to keep him pinned to the ground, unable to rise.

His cultivation was crippled, his golden body worn away—he was now a useless person.

Linghu Xue was right.

Su Xueyan saw him fall, screamed, and wanted to run over.

But Linghu Xue waved her hand; two black‑clad men rushed forward, one on each side, grabbed her arms and held her in place. She struggled, shouting Jiang Feng's name, her voice sharp and desperate.

Jiang Feng lay prone on the ground, listening to her voice, his fingers digging into the gravel, blood seeping from under his nails.

He wanted to crawl up, but his body wouldn't obey, lying there like a puddle of mud.

Just then, he heard a voice.

The voice came from nowhere, from no direction, as if it rang directly inside his head.

"Your strength hasn't recovered yet; you can't protect Su Xueyan."

It was that man.

Jiang Feng's pupils contracted slightly.

The voice continued, tone flat, as if stating a fact.

"If you give up, I can intervene."

Jiang Feng froze for a moment.

He hadn't yet figured it out clearly when the voice sounded again.

"But if you don't give up..."

The voice paused, as if giving him time to think.

"Su Xueyan will die today."

Jiang Feng's pupils shrank to pinpoints.

He finally understood what the man's test was.

It wasn't climbing Wuliang Mountain Peak, wasn't trudging through a blizzard, wasn't crossing the Weak Water.

Those were bodily trials, trials of will, trials of the golden body.

But this stage is a tempering of the spirit, a tempering of choice.

He wants Jiang Feng to choose between his own persistence and the life of the person he cares about.

Jiang Feng lay prone, his fingers digging into the gravel, his nails broken, blood seeping from his fingertips and dripping onto the blue bricks, drop by drop, like dark red flowers.

This trial is more cruel than any he has endured before.