Chapter 149

Feng Yi gave Yin Kexi a tug, the golden whip straightened, his left hand flicked out; Yin Kexi heard the strong wind, he twisted his body as hard as he could, a blade of sharp wind swept past him, and he went with Feng Yi's pull, lunging at him, his left hand flipped, producing a gleaming dagger, drawing a sword light, stabbing at Feng Yi's face.

Seeing the black sword as clear as ink, Yin Kexi noted that when he had just struck the National Master's silver wheel, even a slight contact made him retreat, like a dragonfly skimming water; yet even so, the National Master's silver wheel already bore a nick—this was clearly a rare treasure sword.

Yin Kexi had committed no serious wrongdoing; he merely, since childhood, traded in jewelry, and whenever he saw a rare treasure his heart would itch unbearably—whether buying, deceiving, snatching or stealing, he had to possess it at any cost. Now, seeing the black sword, his greed flared; this move, using attack as defense, is a supreme technique derived from the Eighteen Styles of Small Seizing Hands.

Heh! A cold smile touched Feng Yi's lips, his laugh light and fine; he flipped his wrist, his middle finger shot out like lightning with a hum, striking the sword's spine.

Yin Kexi felt a hot current drill into his palm, his arm felt as if it were burning, and the dagger in his hand shot out swiftly.

By then the National Master had closed in, swinging two wheels with a whoosh, each aimed at Feng Yi's waist and back, while Xiangzi whipped his staff forward, thrusting at Feng Yi's wrist.

Although Feng Yi trusted his divine skill and feared neither Xiangzi nor the nameless star's bare-handed pressure-point strikes, these weapons were forged of tempered steel; to resist them with flesh and bone would be to invite suffering.

Suddenly, Feng Yi sank his stance slightly, raised his brows, his phoenix eyes blazed, and he shouted "Open!" He shook the sword‑hand hard, sending internal energy into the blade; only the constant clang of the jeweled golden dragon whip could be heard as it strained, breaking segment by segment, shooting shards in all directions.

Feng Yi raised his left hand, internal shock made Yin Kexi cry out in pain, his body flew backward, a jet of blood spurted like an arrow, leaving a tragic yet magnificent arc in the air.

Even though the National Master and Xiangzi had anticipated Feng Yi's profound internal energy and his sword's sharp edge, they never imagined Yin Kexi's whip would turn into a rain of hidden weapons, shooting toward them.

In an instant dazzling light flared—gold, silver, jewels like stars—rushing forward with fierce momentum, as if released from a powerful crossbow.

The golden wheel whip of Yin Kexi was set with diamond‑hard adamant, the hardest substance under heaven; no matter how high their martial arts, none dared to meet it head‑on, so they hurried to block.

Yet the National Master, shielding himself with his silver wheel, still sent his copper wheel crashing toward Feng Yi's back.

The National Master's response had long been within Feng Yi's calculation: he twisted his waist, swept his sword downward, and with a clang metal met metal.

Feng Yi's sword barely blocked the wheel; the National Master retreated several feet to guard against Feng Yi's follow‑up. Though his advance was swift, his retreat was equally rapid, without a visible step—he simply slid sideways and backward a few feet, moving diagonally in a flash, a rare skill in the martial world.

The crowd exclaimed in admiration.

Yet no one expected Feng Yi not to attack the National Master and Xiangzi, but instead to use the rebound to leap up, catch the airborne Yin Kexi, and launch a "Whirlwind Sweeping Legs" with consecutive flying kicks.

The National Master and Xiangzi had repeatedly suffered at Feng Yi's hands, knowing his footwork was exquisite, his martial arts unpredictable, his specialty to feint east while striking west; they could only guard themselves, watching helplessly as Feng Yi used the wheel's rebound to catch up to Yin Kexi mid‑air.

But the National Master, a true master, instantly hurled a dull‑gray lead wheel toward Feng Yi's back.

Yin Kexi had already suffered grave injury; by rights he should not exert himself further, or he would lose his life.

Yet Feng Yi pressed the kill, his attacks flowing like clouds and water—before one move finished the next arrived; if he did not block, death was certain. In the hurry he raised his hands to parry; their limbs clashed, emitting a series of dull thuds.

Yin Kexi felt a hot surge like a poisonous snake burrowing into his abdomen, his five viscera and six bowels seeming to overturn; his body slammed into the stone wall like a marble, and stone dust trickled down behind him.

This time he did not even spit blood; he curled up into a ball and lay motionless.

Though the National Master and others' martial arts were exquisite and onlookers still cheered, seeing the top‑tier masters Nameless Star and Yin Kexi fall in a single move each, everyone felt their hearts turn cold and their courage falter.

Even Zhou Botong put away his grin, watching Feng Yi defeat the two great masters Nameless Star and Yin Kexi in a single move each while surrounded by four experts; even if he set aside his playfulness and gave his all, he could not match such swift decisiveness.

This person's martial prowess is truly inconceivable!

In fact, masters like Zhou Botong, Guo Jing, Huang Yaoshi, and Hong Qigong, by nature, always leave a margin; even when facing an enemy they rarely deliver a killing blow, and once they have wounded someone they almost never strike again.

The notion of delivering a coup de grâce is something true masters disdain.

Just as in the original plot Huang Yaoshi once harbored murderous intent toward Li Mochou, only to be thwarted by the silly girl, after which he believed a missed strike meant no further action.

Feng Yi is different: once he has made up his mind, he strikes without mercy, regardless of whether you are injured or have lost your fighting ability.

As for Yin Kexi's soft words to himself, Feng Yi simply does not believe them! The last time he was nearly surrounded to death in the Mongol camp, Yin Kexi remained polite in speech, yet his hands showed no mercy.

If I were to fall into trouble, the one who would strike fastest would surely be him—how could I not take advantage of his illness to seize his life?

As soon as Feng Yi kicked Yin Kexi away, he heard a whirring sound; the National Master's wheel flew toward him. He was mid‑air with no leverage, so turning his body should have been difficult, but the kick he had just delivered naturally generated a reactive force; his body spun with the momentum, his sword slashing straight down, using the blade as a knife, its force undiminished.

With a clang, the lead wheel of the golden wheel was cleaved cleanly in two.

Had the National Master held a wheel forged of refined steel, even if Feng Yi's weapon were razor‑sharp and his internal energy deep, he could not have split it with a single sword strike.

However, the National Master threw his wheel from a distance, lacking the solidity of a grip; thus Feng Yi's single stroke split it.

Before the wheel hit the ground, Feng Yi's residual force remained undiminished; he merged body and sword into a dark light that surged toward the National Master like a hawk striking a sparrow.

The National Master shouted: "Ma Brother, we came together—are you still just watching the show?" He flipped his robe sleeve and produced another golden wheel.

Clang! Sword and wheel met, the sound like a dragon's roar.

Feng Yi snorted coldly, channeling energy into his sword; the black sword, already a treasure, absorbed his internal energy and with a hiss pierced the golden wheel, yet Xiangzi's staff had already arrived.

Feng Yi had already sensed it; he now swung his palm to strike, Xiangzi blocked with his staff, and with a puff it sounded like striking rotten leather.

Feng Yi divided his strength to meet the foe; his palm power reached only about thirty percent of normal, yet even so Xiangzi felt half his body grow hot and hastily retreated several feet.

At this moment the National Master's silver wheel came crashing down; Feng Yi's sword met the golden wheel, feeling the opponent's internal energy like an immovable stone wall; seeing another attack approach, he thrust his left fist forward, true power bursting forth like a raging tide.

Upon contact with the silver wheel came a continuous humming sound.

Feng Yi's pale face flushed with a trace of blood; he flipped backward a somersault, landing ten feet away.

The National Master also staggered back three steps, his face paling, the hand holding the wheel trembling slightly inside his wide sleeve.

Zhou Botong laughed: "Great monk, you have so many wheels—why bother tricking a big fool into charging forward to die?"

Hearing this sarcasm, the National Master's face flushed again.

Given his status, fighting Feng Yi alongside him already lost him face; now calling on Ma Guangzuo, a dull fellow, for help truly does not befit a national master, nor the bearing of a grand master of martial arts.

Fortunately he believes Feng Yi is even more shameless than he is, so any conduct of his is harmless.

Ma Guangzuo exclaimed in astonishment: "Old man, how did you trick me into charging to my death?" He said, scratching his head.

Though slow‑witted, he knows one should not repay kindness with betrayal.

The last time he fought Feng Yi in the Mongol camp, the opponent's martial skill so impressed him that, though wounded, Feng Yi did not press the attack; he deeply felt that, and therefore this time he did not join the siege on Feng Yi.

Yet hearing Feng Yi's clear whistle, he straightened, brandished his sword, and attacked again, as if a galaxy poured down and a comet's tail streaked across the sky.

The National Master possesses both internal and external cultivation at the peak of perfection; energy flows through his dual wheels, when wielded they attack like a treasure blade that cuts gold and splits stone, and defend like two steel plates—truly a treasure that excels in both offense and defense. His footwork is astonishing; his whole body becomes a gust of wind, swirling wildly around Feng Yi, his assaults surging like the great river's waves, seemingly tireless.

Though Xiangzi is inferior to him, his martial art also has unique traits; his mourning staff combines striking, thrusting, and drilling, its moves unfathomable, utterly strange.

They had previously harbored mutual suspicions; now everyone sees it, and if they do not unite wholeheartedly they will surely follow the same path as Nameless Star and Yin Kexi.

The National Master's twin wheels spin and dance, powerful and heavy; wherever Xiangzi's staff points, it targets Feng Yi's vital points and major apertures. In this situation anyone can imagine that if Feng Yi shows the slightest lapse, he may not survive.

After all, damage to crucial meridians means that even if Feng Yi's skill is high, his speed will slow; in a duel between masters, a hair's breadth error can become a thousand‑mile gap, making survival impossible.

Li Mochou gripped the blood‑stained knife at her waist, watching with shock; should Feng Yi show any sign of defeat, she would no longer hold back.

Regardless of what Feng Yi said, she did not agree.

Feng Yi advanced and retreated suddenly, seeking gaps between the wheel and the staff's shadow to attack, yet he spoke leisurely: "State Preceptor, your strength has indeed improved again, admirable and congratulatory, but in my view, if you had ten more years, perhaps you could match me; today I fear you will lose your life here." The State Preceptor's heart sank to the valley's bottom, yet seeing Feng Yi's techniques ever-changing, his body like a swimming dragon, although he himself possessed the Five Wheels Great Turn, myriad and wondrous, Feng Yi's sword carried Taiji circular force, endless and unceasing, so he dared not throw it away, fearing being led by him, letting Xiao Xiangzi follow in the footsteps of Ni Mo Xing and Yin Ke Xi.

But no matter how Feng Yi wielded his sword, he would change direction seven or eight times mid-move, appearing ahead then suddenly behind, making it impossible to guess where he would strike; if this continued, how could Xiao Xiangzi avoid loss?

A thought flashed in his mind, and his hand involuntarily slowed.

Feng Yi knew that although the Golden Wheel State Preceptor's martial arts were high, his psychological resilience was extremely fragile; whenever he encountered a master or something unexpected, he would panic, so this verbal attack aimed to throw him off balance, making him acutely sensitive to his slightest changes.

Then came Feng Yi's fierce shout; his long sword turned into a black light, straight for the State Preceptor's vital point, feinting and real, hiding killing intent—this was the Liancheng Sword Art.

The State Preceptor's left wheel continued to attack as usual, his right hand casually blocking, but Feng Yi flicked his wrist, and the black sword traced a flower, going around his wheel to stab his lower vital point.

This was the move Jade Leak Urging Silver Arrow from Huang Yaoshi's self-created supreme art, the Jade Flute Sword Art; the sword edge formed an arc, striking sideways and obliquely, its advance seeming unhurried, yet the area covered by the tip was extremely wide—unless the opponent's martial arts surpassed his and they met force with force, it was extremely hard to dodge.

Moreover, the black sword Feng Yi used was forged from special black iron, not only extraordinarily sharp but also extraordinarily supple.

Combined, their speed was miraculously swift, hard to describe; even the State Preceptor, with astonishing reflexes, performed a Reverse Treading Seven Stars Step, retreating several zhang, yet upon landing felt a chilling chill beneath his feet.

Looking down, he saw a long tear in his trousers; if it were a few more inches deep, the State Preceptor would be done for, reduced to serving in the palace.

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The National Master broke out in a cold sweat, having no time to think, Feng Yi smiled and said: "National Master, I originally wanted you to practice the Sunflower Treasure Canon, what a pity!"

He spoke, taking a step of about a zhang, the black sword like flying clouds and drifting fluff; the National Master was startled and hurriedly retreated again.

Feng Yi suddenly felt a strong wind arise on his right; Xiao Xiangzi gave a fierce whistle, his legs stiffened, he leapt up, the wind whistling and piercingly cold wherever he passed, from midair he pointed the wailing staff downwards.

Feng Yi casually swung his long sword to block, but suddenly his vision darkened, and the tip of the wailing staff actually sprayed out a stream of black smoke,

"Watch out!" Li Mochou blurted: "It's poisonous!"

Amid the shouting, Feng Yi was already enveloped by the black smoke, his figure blurring, Li Mochou's heart quickened involuntarily, and she lunged forward.

"Ha!"

Feng Yi's thunderous shout shook the whole stone house, dust fell from the roof in patters, and that mass of poisonous smoke was blown back by his shout, spraying straight at Xiao Xiangzi.

In those days, Xiao Xiangzi practiced his skills in the wild mountains of Hunan, where he once saw a toad hiding behind a broken coffin, spewing poisonous powder that felled a large python; enlightened, he caught the toad, extracted its venom, refined it into poisonous powder, and hid it within the wailing staff.

The staff's tail contains a trigger; pressing a finger releases the poisonous powder in a jet, which shoots upward when fired, increasing its power.

This poisonous powder staff had been used against giant pythons and fierce beasts, causing instant faintness; who would have thought Feng Yi not only didn't faint, but could also shout and expel his breath?

Xiao Xiangzi never expected it; the black smoke hit him squarely in the face. Though he had already stuffed an antidote in his nose, so the poisonous smoke couldn't harm him, his vision was obstructed and his state of mind greatly affected.

Feng Yi drew a circle with his left hand, then sent a palm flying out; it made no sound at all, then with a muffled thud it struck squarely on Xiao Xiangzi's chest.

"Seeing the dragon in the field!" Zhou Botong exclaimed in surprise: "Did you learn the Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms from my brother's hands?"

He looked down from a height, seeing Feng Yi's movements clearly.

"Not at all!" Feng Yi smiled: "I'm merely copying the gourd; how could I compare to Great Hero Guo's divine skill?"

He said that, but the distance between him and Xiao Xiangzi was at least eight feet, so this palm could never land solidly. Yet when he threw the palm, his body followed the motion, and the distance suddenly shrank to within reach; Xiao Xiangzi could no longer evade or block in time—this move was essentially the stance of the Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms.

The Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms are simple in form, relying solely on inner strength to win. Although Feng Yi claimed he didn't know how to use that strength, having seen Hong Qigong and Guo Jing demonstrate the moves many times, he now executed them casually, augmented with the Divine Illumination Skill, though perhaps not as powerful as the orthodox technique.

Yet it also shattered Xiao Xiangzi's breastbone, his body flying off like a broken-line kite; before he landed, a slender figure flashed from behind him, graceful and evocative.

Only saw her raise her hand, a flash of red light passed, Xiao Xiangzi let out a long, miserable cry; while still airborne, he was already cut in two, blood spraying everywhere.

It turned out that Li Mochou, seeing Xiao Xiangzi suddenly release the poisonous smoke, knew Feng Yi was executing his divine skill and had to breathe, thus inevitably inhaling it; but with his deep inner strength, given a moment he could surely refine and neutralize the poison.

Thus she rushed to help, but seeing Feng Yi shout and expel his breath, sending Xiao Xiangzi flying, she immediately executed Beautiful Grace Azure Sky, waving her blood blade and cutting Xiao Xiangzi into two pieces.

Li Mochou, accustomed to being ruthless, now seeing his vileness, would not act openly either!

After all, the only ones who said they wouldn't lend a hand were Feng Yi and Zhou Botong; she naturally wasn't among them!

Li Mochou tapped the ground with both feet, and before the black smoke could reach her, she held her breath, executed Reverse Strike Golden Bell, and leapt outward more than a zhang in an instant.

Feng Yi also knew her lightness skill, but Li Mochou's waist was supple, her movements graceful, not like a life‑or‑death struggle but rather like dancing with abandon.

This made Feng Yi's heart surge with excitement, and he laughed: "Mochou, this move of yours is truly beautiful!"

Li Mochou laughed: "My husband's divine might is formidable; I am merely adding flowers to brocade."

Feng Yi laughed loudly, his long sword pointing askew, his stance uneven, his eyes gleaming sharply, coldly fixed on the National Master.

He had just inhaled a bit of poison, his head feeling slightly dizzy, and now he was using his inner strength to dispel the toxin.

Yet the National Master, seeing Li Mochou's skill, felt his heart turn cold and his courage shatter, losing all will to fight; moreover, he said that even if people teamed up with Zhou Botong, it was the same as teaming up with this old woman, and even he, the old monk, would have to meet his end!

With a long laugh he said, "Old monk concedes defeat, until we meet again!" and leapt backward.

Not far behind him was the window; at that moment the window was open on all sides, and the distant scenery could be seen.

Yet he heard Feng Yi give a sharp shout: "Release the net!"

In an instant a large net covered the window, studded with backward hooks and daggers, flashing coldly, showing extreme sharpness.

It turned out Feng Yi knew that once the Golden Wheel National Master sensed something amiss, he would flee; such a master, once he escaped, would be hard to kill.

Earlier, while chatting idly with the National Master and others, seeing Fan Yiweng enter, he silently circulated his inner energy and listened, realizing he had stationed his disciples outside the window and had not entered the house—only then did he launch his attack.

This was quite abrupt, but the National Master, without a thought, sent his twin wheels flying side‑by‑side to crash into the fishing net. Naturally strong‑armed, this desperate, all‑out move was extraordinarily mighty, like thunder.

Then came a clattering clang; the four‑layer fishing net was pushed outward into a big bulge by the twin wheels, trembling incessantly, yet still not broken, and the wheels rebounded back.

This startled the National Master greatly; he flicked his sleeve to catch the twin wheels, turned his body, and charged toward the main door—only to see Feng Yi faintly smiling, his sword held horizontally before the doorway.

The Golden Wheel National Master's eyes were sharp; in the turn he took in everything at a glance—only to see fishing nets blocking the windows in all four directions. He needed no rooftop to know the roof must also be netted; he immediately swept his sleeve, faced Feng Yi, and chuckled, "Master Feng, are you determined to keep this old monk here?"

Feng Yi smiled and said, "Isn't that just nonsense?"

"Master Feng!" the National Master thought quickly, then laughed loudly: "I am the National Master personally appointed by the Empress, and a close aide of the Four Princes; his hundred‑thousand‑strong army is not far away—if I do not return, he will surely come looking, and are you not afraid that this tranquil hidden valley will be reduced to ashes, jade and stone alike?"

Feng Yi saw him in dire straits yet his spirit undiminished, and smiled: "Whether you die and the valley is reduced to ashes remains unknown; but if you live, that will be endless trouble."

The National Master laughed heartily and said, "Brother Ma, did you hear that? He knows the Prince's army is here and wants to silence us; it looks like we won't be leaving this place today!"

(End of chapter)