Chapter 630: I, Dongfang Lin!

Dongfang Hongshan lay on the ruins, half his face buried in rubble and dust, blood still trickling from his mouth.

A section of his back had collapsed, the sound of his broken spine echoing in his own ears like a snapped dry branch.

His aura had already fallen to the valley bottom, the power gained by burning his essence dissipating under this palm.

He turned his head, looking at Jiang Feng, his eyes full of fear.

He could no longer remember when he last felt fear.

Having lived to his age and attained his position, few things could still make him feel fear.

But now, seeing Jiang Feng's eyes calm as water in the night wind and that youthful face beyond description, he felt fear.

That fear was like a hand gripping his heart, making even breathing difficult.

"Traitor……"

His voice was hoarse and broken, accompanied by a gurgling sound of blood foam rolling in his throat.

"Do you insist on being enemies with my Dongfang Clan to the death?"

Jiang Feng stood before him, head lowered, looking at him without answering immediately.

In the distance, several fires still burned, casting the surrounding half-city in alternating light and darkness.

Dongfang Hongshan stared at Jiang Feng in silence, that sliver of hope in his heart flaring up again.

He thought Jiang Feng was hesitating, thought he too was wary of the three remaining Martial Venerables of the Dongfang Clan, thought there was still room for negotiation.

He exerted his last strength to raise his upper body, leaning on a broken concrete slab, lifting his blood‑stained hand and making a cupped‑fist gesture toward Jiang Feng.

That posture was miserable; having lived several hundred years, he had never been so miserable.

But he could no longer care about dignity—what is dignity compared to life?

"Jiang Feng, little friend……"

His voice eased a little, no longer so hoarse, as if he were trying to sound calm.

"You come from Kunlun; I also have some ties with Kunlun."

He paused, swallowed a mouthful of saliva mixed with blood, then continued.

"In the past, Kunlun's Xuan Yuan Zhenren orally transmitted the Crossing Calamity Heart Sutra to me; my passing the Three Tribulations of Martial Venerable was entirely due to his guidance. Since you are his disciple, could you, for the sake of that old bond, spare me?"

Having said that, he fixed his gaze on Jiang Feng, trying to find a hint of wavering in that youthful face.

"I guarantee that the Dongfang Clan will never again be your enemy."

The ruins fell silent for a moment.

Jiang Feng stood there, looking at Dongfang Hongshan's blood‑ and ash‑streaked face, at those pleading eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer.

"I didn't expect you still knew that old man."

"If so, when you previously moved to strike me, why didn't you think of the old man's past teachings?"

Dongfang Hongshan opened his mouth, about to explain, but the words died at his lips.

He couldn't very well say that Xuan Yuan Zhenren had disappeared many years ago; though he had once been a Martial Venerable, he was likely already fallen, so why bother giving face to a dead man?

That reason sounded reasonable in his heart, but voicing it would seem too despicable.

He could only stand there with his mouth open, emitting a few indistinct sounds from his throat.

Jiang Feng looked at him like that and shook his head.

"I said before, today you old dog will surely die."

His hand rose.

Palm facing downward, golden light gathered in his palm.

Although not as dazzling as before, that aura still made the surrounding air tremble.

Dongfang Hongshan's pupils contracted sharply; he wanted to flee, but his body no longer obeyed.

He wanted to shout, but his throat was blocked by blood, only able to emit muffled cries like pleas for help.

Just as Jiang Feng's hand was about to fall, a harsh shout came from afar.

"Stop!"

That voice was deep and thick, like a bronze bell being struck, carrying far across the night sky.

The voice carried an undeniable authority, the commanding tone of one long accustomed to high position, making anyone who heard it instinctively stop what they were doing.

Jiang Feng's hand halted in midair.

He turned his head, narrowed his eyes, and looked toward the direction the sound came from.

In the distance, at the edge of the night, something was moving—first a few black dots, then a dozen, then hundreds, then thousands.

Those black dots converged from all directions toward the ruins, like black rivers surging through the night.

Iron Cavalry.

Tens of thousands of Iron Cavalry.

Those cavalrymen all wore standard black armor, red plumes on their helmets, long swords at their waists, and spears in their hands.

Their horses were also black, tall and sturdy, the hoofbeats in the night wind merging into a low thunder; the sound of tens of thousands of horses galloping simultaneously was like an earthquake advancing from afar, making the ruins beneath their feet tremble slightly.

Jiang Feng's gaze swept over those Iron Cavalry, realizing they were not coming from a single direction but converging from all sides at once.

The entire perimeter of the ruins had already been surrounded by tens of thousands of Iron Cavalry, a black mass like the night itself come alive, turned into an iron wall that trapped them in the middle.

The Iron Cavalry halted at the ruins' perimeter, their movements neat and uniform, like a precisely controlled machine; the front rank reined in their horses, the rear rank came to a stop in sequence, the whole process astonishingly swift, without a hint of chaos.

Tens of thousands of men and horses stood at the ruins' edge, silent as tombs, only the occasional snort of a horse and the rustle of plume feathers stirred by the night wind breaking the quiet.

A middle‑aged man in a black robe stepped out from the Iron Cavalry formation.

He walked slowly, each step firm, the hem of his robe dragging a faint trace on the ground.

Behind him followed two elders, both withered‑faced and deep‑breathing.

Although none of them were Martial Venerables, they were only a step away from that rank!

The middle-aged man's visage bore some resemblance to Dongfang Jue, but he was more composed and more substantial.

The moment Dongfang Hongshan saw that man, the despair in his eyes vanished completely, replaced by a wild joy of finding hope in desperation. He braced himself against that concrete slab and shouted with all his strength.

"Family Head, save me!"

That voice was hoarse and broken, yet it rang out exceptionally clear in the silent ruins.

Jiang Feng withdrew his hand, turned around, and faced the middle-aged man who had stepped out of the Iron Cavalry Formation.

His expression remained calm, showing no ripple.

The middle-aged man stopped a dozen paces away, swept his gaze over Jiang Feng, then glanced at Dongfang Hongshan lying in the ruins and Dongfang Jue unconscious in the corner.

A faint twitch crossed his mouth—whether a smile or something else, unclear—then he spoke.

"Are you Jiang Feng?"

His voice was very calm, as if greeting an ordinary stranger.

Jiang Feng looked at him, gave no reply, merely nodding slightly.

The middle-aged man also nodded, then took a step toward him.

As that step landed, Jiang Feng felt a pressure.

That pressure was stronger than what Dongfang Hongshan had exerted on him by more than one level, as if the whole sky were pressing down, causing his shoulders to sink involuntarily.

He stared at the middle-aged man, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"His Seat, Dongfang Lin!"