Chapter 109: Two Punches, Two Deaths!

"You actually dared to kill Gu Yang... Han Jian Sect will never let you go unpunished!!!"

Zhou Feng stared, eyes bulging with rage, as Jiang Ye casually tore Gu Yang’s corpse in half, then burned it into a charred stub in crimson-gold flames, veins on his forehead swelling like earthworms writhing beneath his skin.

His roar echoed wildly through the cavern, shaking dust loose from the stone walls in a steady cascade.

But when Jiang Ye’s calm, water-deep gaze fell upon him, a flicker of clarity flashed across Zhou Feng’s furious face.

That gaze was too cold—cold as ice, devoid of any warmth, as if viewing a man already dead.

His heart clenched, and his fury instantly cooled.

Even just Zheng Feng alone was beyond his grasp; if Jiang Ye joined in too... facing two opponents at once, he had virtually no chance of victory—only the threat of death.

"Retreat first! Regroup and plan again once we gather more hands!"

Zhou Feng made his decision in an instant.

Anger wouldn’t solve the problem now. To preserve the green mountains was the better strategy.

Yet Zheng Feng, too, saw through his intent, sneering: "You shout so loud—don’t tell me you’re already thinking of running?"

"Get out of my way!"

Zhou Feng launched a furious strike, golden true qi coalescing into a razor-sharp blade-edge in his palm, aiming to force Zheng Feng back.

"Flame Palm!"

Zheng Feng showed no fear, his true qi surging violently as he slammed one palm forward.

Crimson true qi condensed into a massive fire-palm in his palm, radiating searing heat, charging head-on.

BOOM!

A scorching fire-palm materialized midair and struck Zhou Feng.

"Heart-Cutting Sword!"

Zhou Feng likewise gathered his true qi, summoning a golden longsword, its blade sharp and radiating icy chill.

THUD!

A muffled crash as the two forces collided, unleashing chaotic air currents.

Heat and piercing energy erupted outward, stirring a gale within the cavern that whipped their robes violently.

Both men stepped back several paces, steadying their stances.

Zhou Feng drew a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the churning blood in his body—then his expression changed abruptly.

"Huh? Where’s that old bastard?!"

In that fleeting moment, he realized with shock that Jiang Ye’s figure had vanished right before his eyes—no footsteps, no wind disturbance, not even a trace of qi—as if he had never existed.

A creeping unease settled over him.

The next instant.

He sharply sensed a lethal rush of air behind him; his peripheral vision flicked back—and he froze in horror.

Jiang Ye had somehow slipped behind him, moving like a ghost, silent and unseen, one withered fist already driving forward, coated in crimson-gold true qi, carrying crushing force straight for his spine.

"Damn it—is this old man some kind of slippery eel?!"

Zhou Feng, startled and furious, twisted his body at maximum speed, channeling all his true qi to shield his vital points.

But Jiang Ye’s strike was too fast—like wind, like lightning, devastatingly sharp.

He dodged the vital spot—but not the fist.

THUD.

Jiang Ye’s heavy fist slammed into Zhou Feng’s right chest.

As the punch roared through the air, a terrifying tiger’s roar echoed faintly within it.

CRACK...

The crisp sound of snapping bones rang out, piercingly loud in the silent cavern.

Zhou Feng’s ribs on the right side shattered instantly; the crimson-gold true qi coating the fist carried unstoppable momentum, punching clean through his chest and emerging from his back.

HISS-HISS-HISS...

Crimson-gold flames erupted wildly from the wound, charring flesh, instantly vaporizing blood, filling the air with a thick, acrid stench of burning.

Zhou Feng’s face turned ashen white; the searing pain nearly knocked him unconscious, sweat pouring down his forehead like rain.

"Sssss... AAAAAHH!!!"

Unable to bear the agony burning through his marrow, he let out a horrifying scream, shrill and piercing, echoing through the cavern and raising the hairs on everyone’s necks.

Yet Jiang Ye had no intention of giving him a moment to breathe.

The moment his first punch landed, the second followed instantly, aimed straight for Zhou Feng’s face.

The withered fist loomed larger and larger in Zhou Feng’s vision, cloaked in the shadow of death.

At that moment, several sharp whistling sounds erupted in succession.

Four figures burst out simultaneously from side passages, drawn by the battle’s noise.

Two were elders of Tianqing Sect: Zhu Ying from Jinchen Peak and Xie Tang from Xianshui Peak.

The other two were elders of Han Jian Sect.

They arrived just in time to witness the shocking scene before them.

While the two Tianqing Sect elders were stunned, the two Han Jian Sect elders immediately turned pale and roared in unison: "Stop!"

Too late.

THUD—!!!!

A heavy, muffled boom, like a watermelon crushed by a sledgehammer.

Zhou Feng’s head exploded under Jiang Ye’s fist, red and white matter spraying everywhere; his headless corpse swayed, then crashed heavily to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

For a moment, the scene fell into eerie silence.

Everyone froze, even forgetting to breathe.

"Gulps..."

Someone swallowed the first gulp of saliva—the sound unnaturally clear in the stillness.

"Oh my God!!!"

"Not just Brother Gu Yang..."

"Elder Zhou Feng has been killed too!!!"

"Run for your lives!!!"

The Han Jian Sect disciples finally snapped out of shock, erupting into terrified screams.

They dared not stay another second, fleeing wildly toward the side passages—some crashed into stone walls, some tripped and fell, scrambled up, and kept running, wishing their parents had given them two extra legs.

The two Han Jian Sect elders turned ashen, staring fixedly at the headless corpse, their eyes filled with shock, fury, and deep wariness.

Though both sides knew that conflict between the sects was inevitable once inside the relic.

But no one expected it to erupt so quickly.

In the blink of an eye, Elder Zhou Feng—a renowned Golden Core cultivator of Han Jian Sect—lay dead on the spot.

"You Tianqing Sect dare strike so brutally..."

"Go!"

Neither man was a fool; they exchanged a glance and without hesitation, retreated swiftly, vanishing into the side passages alongside the fleeing disciples.

The numbers were too uneven—they stayed one moment longer, and risked one moment more.

The cavern reeked of blood.

Jiang Ye slowly retracted his fist, glancing down at the headless corpse, his aged face utterly expressionless.

"Elder Jiang, I’m truly impressed! When did you sneak behind him?!"

Zheng Feng stepped forward, face filled with awe and admiration.

He had been locked in fierce combat with Zhou Feng, his focus entirely on the fat elder’s golden sword-blades—he hadn’t noticed when Jiang Ye left, or when he circled around.

By the time he realized it, Zhou Feng’s head was already split open. This stealthy ambush technique was unmatched.

Now he was beginning to understand why Jiang Ye had single-handedly wiped out the heavily guarded Heifeng Fortress—such skill meant even Golden Core experts could fall if they slipped up.

Zhu Ying and Xie Tang also approached, stunned.

Zhu Ying’s gaze swept over the headless corpse, then settled on Jiang Ye, a flicker of unspoken wariness in his eyes. Just days ago, he had fought Zhou Feng himself—he knew how formidable the fat elder was; they battled for hours without either gaining the upper hand.

Yet this Jiang Elder killed Zhou Feng with two punches.

The sheer power—when he thought about it—was truly chilling.

"Elder Jiang, Young Master Zheng, what exactly happened here..." Xie Tang spoke first, eyes scanning the group.

Zheng Feng stepped forward and quickly explained the events; Jiang Ye, meanwhile, crouched beside Zhou Feng’s corpse and looted it.

The result: Zhou Feng carried almost nothing—he only found several thousand-ounce silver notes and two translucent, icy-cold pearls.

"Cold Jade Pearls?!"

Jiang Ye’s eyes flickered slightly brighter.

Earlier at Tai’an Mountain, Han Jian Sect had used these very items to intimidate others—now they were his.

He slipped both pearls into his robe, thinking he’d test their power when the chance arose.

"What?! Han Jian Sect tried to kill and steal treasures?!"

After hearing Zheng Feng’s account, Zhu Ying and Xie Tang both paled.

When Xie Tang learned the victim was Liu Yiyi, his refined face darkened with fury, his brows knitting tightly.

Fortunately, Jiang Ye intervened in time—his old friend’s daughter had escaped disaster.

Just then.

“Mmm...”

A muffled cry of pain escaped, laced with restraint and suffering.

Everyone turned toward the sound and saw that the speaker was Liu Yiyi.

Her entire body was coated in frost—from hair tips to hem, from fingertips to eyelashes—all covered in a layer of white, glistening ice flowers.

Her face was pale as death, eyes tightly shut; the once cold and ethereal features now held only pallor and fragility, making her look like the snow maiden of legend—beautiful yet chilling.

The frigid aura radiating from her was so sharp it froze even Wang Siyi, who lay nearby, wounded and unconscious; even in unconsciousness, her body trembled and curled instinctively.

“What’s going on?!”

Jiang Ye moved fastest, his form flickering as he appeared beside Liu Yiyi.

He reached out to feel her forehead—the instant his fingertip touched her skin, a bone-deep chill struck him, making him shiver despite himself.

Zheng Feng and the others hurried over, their faces equally stunned.

“Master Jiang, before, to prevent the Cold Sword Sect from seizing the spiritual herb she held, Liu Shimei swallowed it directly—this must be the medicine taking effect.”

Chen Lili limped forward, her left wrist still hanging limp, face pale but forcing herself to speak.

“What kind of spiritual herb did she swallow? How could it have such potent effects?”

Zheng Feng asked, astonished.

He had seen many things, yet such a violently cold spiritual herb was exceedingly rare.

Chen Lili vaguely recalled the shape of the snow lotus and gestured with her hand: “About three inches long, entirely snow-white, petals as thin as cicada wings, edges faintly glowing blue, emitting a thread of cold air...”

Zheng Feng’s eyes widened with each word; when she finished, he could not suppress his shock: “Could it be... the Heavenly Heart Ice Seed Lotus?”

“What’s the Heavenly Heart Ice Seed Lotus?”

Jiang Ye and the others turned sharply, all eyes fixed on Zheng Feng.

Zheng Feng took a deep breath, gazing at Liu Yiyi, wrapped in frost, with unmistakable envy, then explained:

“It’s a nearly extinct ice-element spiritual herb. Legend says consuming it can enhance one’s innate constitution to some degree...”

He paused, his tone filled with awe:

“I’d wager that in today’s Zhou Kingdom, only the imperial treasury might still hold such a herb.”

At this, everyone froze in shock.

A spiritual herb that enhances innate constitution?

How incredibly rare!

For martial cultivators, innate constitution is born, nearly impossible to alter through later effort.

The gap between superior and average constitution cannot be bridged by years of arduous cultivation.

A herb capable of breaking through this heavenly barrier was priceless.

No wonder Zheng Feng looked so envious.

“This girl has quite the fortune.”

Jiang Ye silently exhaled, a faint, almost imperceptible relief flickering in his aged eyes.

Liu Yiyi already had superior constitution—if this further enhanced it...

She would truly be a prodigy.

Her martial path would surely surpass even her father, Liu Qingshi.

“But how could an outer disciple like her just eat something like this?!”

Zhu Ying from Jinchen Peak spoke with visible anguish, his tone as if the herb had been stolen from him personally.