Chapter 22: Owl Daoist

Feng Yi only knew this was the south bank of the Yangtze River, but he didn't know exactly where; after walking just two or three li, a piercing whistle suddenly came from afar, the whistle sharp and urgent like a wolf's howl and an owl's cry, its momentum quite astonishing.

Feng Yi's spirit shook, and he thought: "Great, there's actually such an expert!"

He had thought that since he and Ding Dian had left Jingzhou not long ago, his appearance here would only have let the Dongting Gang release whatever they'd sent out, and no formidable figures would come knocking in the short term; he hadn't expected such people to show up, and he felt a bit of anticipation.

After all, the Dongting Gang's people were just too weak, leaving him with no interest in fighting them.

Feng Yi suddenly pressed his hands to his waist and let out a long whistle; this whistle was clear and lofty, like a dragon's chant and a phoenix's call, its sound carrying for several li and never ceasing for a long while.

He knew the other would hear his whistle and arrive in an instant, so he picked up some small stones, walked to a tree, sat down, and closed his eyes to rest his spirit.

Not long after, the sound of horse hooves clopping suddenly rang out on the official road; Feng Yi didn't need to open his eyes, just listening, he knew there were five riders.

"Whoa…"

The rider on horseback reined in his mount.

Feng Yi glanced up and saw five riders forming a semicircle around him, three of them holding torches and shining them directly at his face.

This move not only showed the visitors were hostile, but also made clear they didn't take Feng Yi seriously at all.

After all, in the darkness, having torches shone straight into one's eyes inevitably causes glare and blurs vision.

Feng Yi's face darkened as he slowly rose to his feet.

Then one of them asked, "Are you Feng Yi?"

Feng Yi recognized the sharp, piercing tone as that of the whistler from earlier. He saw the man dressed in a black Daoist robe, his beard and hair flecked with white, a stern expression, his temples high and prominent, a long sword slanted across his back, its yellow tassel fluttering in the wind.

Feng Yi's expression was indifferent; he simply said, "It's very late."

The black-clad Daoist coldly replied, "What's wrong with it being late?"

"When it's late, one should rest; if you want to fight, hurry up!" Feng Yi's tone was cold and hard, not yielding an inch to the Daoist.

The Daoist's face froze; he seemed unable to believe that anyone in this day and age would dare speak to him like that. Yet recalling the earlier mighty whistle, the depth of its internal energy perhaps was not beneath his own, such arrogance was therefore not unusual.

The Daoist fixed his gaze on Feng Yi, seeing his clear eyebrows and lovely eyes, his steady gaze, yet revealing a stubborn streak; he suddenly burst into loud laughter, shaking leaves to scatter and causing the torches to flicker.

Feng Yi felt that this long laugh entering his ears was shocking, possessing the power to overwhelm a person's spirit; this man's internal energy was indeed extremely high, he glanced sideways and said, "Are you trying to laugh me to death?"

The old Daoist's laughter abruptly ceased, he raised his eyebrows, braced his hand on the horse's neck, and leapt up in a somersault, arriving right before Feng Yi.

He rose and fell in an instant, covering three zhang; his movement was astonishingly fast. Upon seeing this lightness skill, Feng Yi silently gave a cheer.

Two young Daoists also leapt off their horses, inserting pine-oil torches around, lighting the area within several zhang as bright as day.

The Daoist cupped his hands in a salute and said lightly, "Since you come from the Dragon Sand Gang outside Jiangling City's Purple Bamboo Temple, do you know?"

Feng Yi couldn't help raising his eyebrows, nodding: "Oh? So it's you, the Owl Daoist—no wonder, no wonder!"

The Purple Bamboo Temple lies outside Jiangling City on White Dragon Mountain; though it is a Daoist temple, its head, the Owl Daoist, is a martial lineage, his skill not weak at all, and he is famed for his cruel, ruthless methods, hence his epithet "Owl".

Whether it's the Dragon Sand Gang of the north of the river or the Dongting Gang of the south, none dare provoke him. Even someone like Ling Tui Si treats him with respect, and naturally the original body's memory includes this figure.

Moreover, Feng Yi recalls from the original plot that it was likely this Owl Daoist who matched internal energy with Ding Dian, who had mastered the Divine Illumination Skill, performing remarkably well—so much that even Di Yun couldn't resist launching a sneak attack.

Although Ding Dian merely wanted to test the power of the Divine Illumination Skill, this man's prowess is still evident.

After all, one needs to be sufficiently strong to use as a test for the skill.

For example, the Seven Masters of Quanzhen, when facing an opponent like Mei Chaofeng, would be willing to use her to practice their skills.

And given Feng Yi's current perspective, seeing this Owl Daoist's internal energy and technique, he is far above Ling Tui Si, and likely not inferior to today's Ding Dian either. The Owl Daoist nodded and said, "I have no interest in any treasure; I only wish to view Ding Dian's Divine Illumination Scripture, that we may form a good karmic bond."

He seemed to be negotiating, but was actually firm; Feng Yi's eyes flashed with a cold light as he sneered, "Even Daoists covet others' belongings—your Dao practice has gone to the dogs' bellies!"

One of the young Daoists, without waiting for the Owl Daoist's reply, immediately cut in: "My master kindly advises you—don't bring ruin upon yourself! Don't think that knowing a bit of internal energy makes you someone important; before my master……".

Feng Yi rolled his eyes, curled his lip, kicked with his foot, and with a swish, a stone flashed like lightning.

The young Daoist had just sensed the wind, but had no time to react; the stone pierced the air and struck squarely between his eyebrows with a "pthwack—", and he collapsed off his horse.

Feng Yi's movement was slight, yet the stone flew like lightning; besides, it was night, so aside from the Owl Daoist hearing the wind, the other young Daoists noticed nothing at all.

Seeing their brother fall, the others glanced over, saw his brains mingling with fresh blood pouring out—a sight no single word "tragic" could describe—and clanged as they each drew their swords.

"How dare you, villain!"

In that instant, the Owl Daoist's anger erupted like a volcano; he thrust a palm forward, a mountain-like hidden surge rushing toward Feng Yi.

Feng Yi neither dodged nor evaded; he concealed a palm in his sleeve and struck out with a fluttering motion.

With a soft "thud," Feng Yi felt the opponent's palm was heavy and powerful; he couldn't help exclaiming, "Good, you really have some skill—no empty reputation."

The Owl Daoist stepped back, then swiftly shifted his stance, retreating several zhang while staring at Feng Yi, his face showing surprise.

The Owl Daoist had thought Feng Yi possessed deep internal energy but not necessarily high martial skill, and relying on his internal energy—rarely matched in the world—he believed this charged palm, extraordinarily strong, would at least send Feng Yi flying back to strike the tree behind him, even if it couldn't kill him outright.

Who would have thought the opponent would casually flick his palm and neutralize his extremely subtle move?

This had happened in an instant; after the shock, the Owl Daoist, unwilling to yield, inhaled deeply and shouted, "Good! Take another move!" He circled his palms and thrust them forward, kicking up a frenzy of sand all around.

Feng Yi glanced askance, surprise in his eyes, but thinking his Divine Illumination Skill could roam the world with ease, his ambition soared—he wanted to see who was stronger.

He flipped his palms, causing his robe's hem to billow and rustle loudly.

"Thud——"

The four palms met; a fierce wind burst outward, Feng Yi's upper body swayed slightly while the Owl Daoist was flung backward—victory was decided.

Feng Yi raised his eyebrows, supported his waist with one hand, and shouted sternly, "Good, take a punch of mine too!" His voice thundered like a bell as he threw a punch toward the Owl Daoist's left waist.

The Owl Daoist drew a deep breath, thrusting his palms forward to meet him, but unexpectedly Feng Yi swayed and lunged at the three disciples.

"Thud……"

The thick tree shaken by the Owl Daoist's palm had its leaves trembling, a fearsome sight.

The other three Daoists, seeing Feng Yi engaged in combat with their master, suddenly appeared—swift as a startled wild goose—truly rare.

Though they had trained in martial arts since childhood and were not panicked, they thrust their long swords forward, three cold lights lunging at Feng Yi's three vital points.

Their moves subtly conformed to principles, as if containing a set formation, yet the Owl Daoist hurriedly shouted, "Dodge quickly!"

The three young Daoists had never seen their master so flustered; they felt deeply uneasy.

Feng Yi gave a cold laugh: "Too late!" He swept his left sleeve aside, deflecting all three swords, and brought his right palm down onto one person's skull.

This "Opening Mountain Palm" may not be able to open a mountain, but opening a skull is no problem; however, Feng Yi's palm directly slapped that little Daoist's skull into his chest cavity.

This scene is ten times more difficult than smashing the skull; another little Daoist, seeing this, was greatly alarmed and wanted to dodge, but Feng Yi struck out with a palm.

Crack! the breastbone and spine snapped, and he went limp and died.

(End of chapter)