Chapter 62

Feng Yi faced six disciples of the Blood Blade Sect, killed five of them; such a glorious battle record has no equal under heaven.

Yet he also secretly admired the Blood Blade Patriarch's consummate skill and swift adaptability, recalling the recent battle and sighing at his good fortune.

That blood blade was a Myanmar sword, appearing soft as a snake, but when the Blood Blade Patriarch thrust it at Feng Yi's abdomen, he gathered his whole body's strength into one strike; the blade instantly became as hard as tempered steel, and by the method of slipping through the tiniest gap, it possessed unstoppable power.

Although Feng Yi was doubly protected by the Silkworm Silk Armor and the Divine Illumination Technique, the blade's tip could not pierce his abdomen, yet a searing heat like fire, resembling a blade, dagger, or sword, threaded internal force drilled into his dantian's qi sea.

Although the failure of this move was due to his concern for Qi Fang and his left arm not yet healed, the Blood Blade Patriarch, in his dying counterattack, unleashed tremendous latent power.

But Feng Yi knew that in combat, victory is never determined solely by martial skill—luck or anything else can be decisive; this time, without the Silkworm Silk Armor protecting him, he would have been done for.

Feng Yi let out a long sigh; he had no grand ambitions, only wanted to live like a human being—this is life's most simple and unadorned goal, yet in this world it is truly difficult.

He had only been in this world for half a month, yet all the dangers and excitements that had occurred were beyond anything he could have imagined in his previous life of several decades.

At this moment, he did not know whether he liked such a life.

He suddenly understood why those of peerless martial prowess often choose to live in seclusion.

As his thoughts wandered, the blood blade coiled at his waist rang out with a clear "cling-clang".

Feng Yi felt surprised; having heard of divine objects gaining sentience, he wondered if this blood blade, a divine weapon that had long drunk human blood, might also possess such power. As he pondered, gathering his qi and listening, he heard the sound of sleeves rustling in the wind from above—lightness of step quite practiced—followed by a faint, cat-like patter drawing nearer, until it reached the top of the alley.

A faint smile curled Feng Yi's lips as he said casually, "Bao Xiang, since you're here, come out!"

After a moment, a wild laugh came from the opposite side of the alley's roof, like thunder cracking in midair; the laughing man then added, "Even after your grave injury, Hero Feng, you still have such sharp hearing—truly admirable, Buddha!"

His voice was coarse and rough, like thunderclaps, and accompanying it appeared none other than Bao Xiang, the direct disciple of the Blood Blade Patriarch.

Bao Xiang had thought his movements concealed, but Feng Yi had called him out; he felt somewhat startled, hesitated a moment, then rose from the alley's roof.

Feng Yi remarked lightly, "What's the matter? Do you resent that no one scouted the path for your master before his death, or do you feel lonely without your fellow disciples and wish to keep them company?"

Bao Xiang stood with hands on hips, his face full of fierce muscle, eyes flashing murderous light, sleeves fluttering like a hawk eyeing prey, and said coldly, "Surname Feng, stop relying on mere talk; if you're sensible, hand over the Divine Illumination Scripture and our sect's holy Blood Blade, otherwise you'll find death hard to come by!"

Feng Yi showed no fear, sneering, "Your master and all his fellow disciples are dead to a man, and you—a lustful, greedy, cowardly rat—also want to lay hands on the Divine Illumination Scripture and the Blood Blade; what gives you the right?"

Bao Xiang threw back his head and roared with laughter, "At death's door you still run your mouth! Hero Feng, if I, Buddha, still have three inches of breath, I cannot forget this—take my attack!!"

As he spoke, he emitted a strange whistle like an owl's cry, kicked with his foot, and sent a tile flying toward Feng Yi's head.

He kicked loose one tile, then swept his sleeves repeatedly, knocking down several bricks and tiles; for a moment only a wailing sound was heard, as if the bricks and tiles on the alley wall were made of dough, rolling toward Feng Yi, who leaned against the wall.

Feng Yi remained unmoving; seeing the bricks and tiles come within three feet, he extended his hands, palms moving like wind, the force of those brick-and-tile projectiles, like strong crossbow bolts, humming as they brushed past; he circled his arms, as if embracing an invisible taiji.

With a bang, the bricks and tiles stacked neatly together before him, as if a mason had laid them by hand.

This move, whether in internal force or technique, fully displayed profound mastery.

Yet Bao Xiang laughed loudly, "Hero Feng, this skill of yours would leave even a Wudang Taiji master eating your dust! Even if you became a bricklayer, you'd never go hungry!"

Feng Yi's technique is exactly the same as the Wudang principle of "overcoming hardness with softness"—both are methods of using the opponent's force against them.

Feng Yi's eyes flashed, and he gave a faint smile, "No choice; I've been hard-pressed since childhood, so I learned this trick."

Bao Xiang gave a snickering laugh, "Hero Feng, why don't you hurl these bricks and tiles back at me instead of just piling them up? Is it because my master's stab wounded your dantian, leaving you with a faint ache and no strength to use? I think you should just accept your fate today!!"

Feng Yi snorted coldly, "Since you've already probed me, why don't you dare come down?"

He added with disdain, "To cherish your life while undertaking great deeds—you're a coward, far inferior to your master!"

Bao Xiang raised his thick brows, eyes wide, and shouted furiously, "Do you think I'm afraid of you?"

As he spoke, he lightly leapt down to the ground and said, "Buddha, I saw clearly from the roof just now—my master's thrust pierced your abdomen; in his dying moment, his strike was faster and fiercer than usual, so you are already wounded.

Yet you leisurely massacred my master, and even claimed that your unfinished grudge with Lord Ling means the longer you stall, the more it shows your composure—everything under your control.

Until my master loudly cursed you for being wounded and feigning strength, you then swiftly drew your blade and hacked off his limbs—first to seize the chance to kill him and silence him, second because you knew among the onlookers were Lord Ling's men, so you could frighten them into not daring to oppose you.

Thus you suppressed your injury, avoided the main road, and came to this secluded little alley—haha, isn't that right?"

After Bao Xiang fled from Wan Jia, Feng Yi and the Blood Blade Patriarch talked while running, and the various martial artists came from all directions; Bao Xiang naturally followed as well.

He fully understood the Blood Blade Patriarch's abilities and his high martial skill; seeing that Feng Yi had taken a stab to the abdomen, he decided to risk following Feng Yi.

Even so, he still did not dare act rashly; he launched bricks and tiles from the wall as a probe, seeing that Feng Yi could not counterattack, only then did he dare descend into the alley to confront Feng Yi face to face.

Feng Yi gave no reply, his smile unchanged, but his eyes shone bright as stars, a faint glint of sharpness flashing within.

Bao Xiang stared at Feng Yi's smiling face, and a nameless hatred welled up in his heart.

Because Feng Yi's smile seemed to comprehend everything, to mock everything, it made this moment feel not like the best time for him to kill Feng Yi, but rather as if he himself had become the prey willingly walking into the trap.

This made Bao Xiang feel that both his martial prowess and his intellect had been insulted; burning with rage, he clanged his waist saber free, hoisted it onto his shoulder, pointed a finger, and shouted loudly, "I ask you one thing: will you hand over the Divine Illumination Scripture and the Blood Blade? I have left a mark for Ling Tui Si's men; they'll be here shortly, so you'd better not regret it!"

Feng Yi's gaze was deep like a pool, he frowned and said, "The Blood Blade is at my waist, the Divine Illumination Scripture in my bosom, and I still have a Silkworm Silk Armor on me—all fine treasures; it's natural you'd want them, but when I present them with both hands, you'll likely have to call me 'father'!"

Bao Xiang's eyes gleamed; he fixed his stare on Feng Yi's hands and slowly stepped forward.

Feng Yi's fame was immense, his battle record dazzling; despite his serious wounds, Bao Xiang couldn't help but feel uneasy and apprehensive, fearing that Feng Yi might drag him along to die, so he hesitated to make a move.

After all, even his master could land a fatal blow on Feng Yi in his dying breath—how could he not be capable of the same?

Feng Yi's expression showed a hint of oddity; he gave a heh laugh, "With your cowardly demeanor, you'd be better off waiting for Ling Tui Si's forces to arrive and see how he divides my few treasures among you."

Bao Xiang couldn't help but start; he thought that Feng Yi's three supreme treasures on his person were coveted by everyone, his master and fellow disciples were dead, and if Ling Tui Si had a change of heart, killed him, and seized everything, that would also be reasonable.

Moreover, even if Feng Yi were seriously wounded, giving him a moment to catch his breath would likely leave me no better off!

Upon thinking this, Bao Xiang immediately hardened his heart, spat a "pah", and cursed furiously, "Damn it, you Central Plains people are all ungrateful! Buddha will make you taste some real power!"

Before his words even faded, he shifted his footwork, and his single blade, like a swift tail, arced through the air to chop down at Feng Yi's head.

Although the Blood Blade technique is famed for its strangeness, Bao Xiang has received his master's true transmission; he is one of the top two experts of the Blood Blade Sect, his blade intent shifting from fierce to subtle, from light to heavy.

Since he debuted, he has committed countless misdeeds, injuring many good men, yet no one has been able to contend with him.

Whether it is Bao Xiang drawing his blade and placing it on his shoulder, or the Blood Blade Patriarch's habit of scraping his head, both are actually gathering power; once unleashed, it is as fast as lightning, as mighty as thunder—one strike cuts two!

Though Bao Xiang falls short of the Blood Blade Patriarch, this strike of his also bears a stern aura; the sound of breaking the air actually carries wind and thunder.

The wind's sound and the blade's light harmonize, their might awe-inspiring, showing his strength.

Feng Yi blurted out praise, "What a splendid blade technique!"

He seemed also a bit wary, his body suddenly shifting aside, not meeting the blow head-on, yet his footwork was marvelously subtle and mysterious, causing Bao Xiang's strike to miss.

Bao Xiang instantly changed his move, bending his knees and stepping sideways five feet; his blade, like wind, sliced diagonally at Feng Yi's neck.

He urgently wanted to quickly put Feng Yi to death; as long as he seized the Divine Illumination Classic on Feng Yi's body, other gains and losses he had no time to consider. For example, Ling Tui Si's long‑yearned‑for secret of the Liancheng Treasure, he had not the slightest interest.

Chop Feng Yi down and run, who cares what happens to Ling Tui Si!

Feng Yi saw Baoxiang spin and draw his sword, which was remarkably light, agile, and graceful, and extremely swift, utterly mismatched with his burly physique; he silently praised it.

Just now Feng Yi faced several attackers surrounding him, having no time to judge their martial skill; now in single combat he was calm, seeing the blade's edge less than a foot from him, he shifted his body sideways, dodged again, and before the opponent could retract the blade and change stance, he lifted his right foot and kicked back at the opponent's sword‑wielding wrist.

That kick was truly wondrous and mysterious, striking Baoxiang's wrist squarely.

Baoxiang felt only a heat in his wrist, and his single sword flew out of his hand.

Baoxiang was instantly shocked; Feng Yi lightly flicked his palm, with a slap, striking the opponent's left cheek.

Baoxiang couldn't help but retreat two steps; the struck area felt as if burned by fire, swelling like inflamed skin, and, both angry and anxious, he shouted: 'You little thief, you're not hurt!'

This discovery made him quite fearful.

Feng Yi laughed heartily and said: 'You foolish blockhead, how could you not know what "fishing law enforcement" means?'

Uttering those words, Feng Yi spoke extremely quickly, clear as a crane's cry, harsh as an ape's call; at the same time he pushed off the wall with his left foot, lunged forward, and reached out to draw his long sword.

— The sword light shot forth, emitting a trembling resonance, like sudden thunder and lightning, blossoms of sword light blooming, pointing directly at Baoxiang's five vital points on the chest, real and feigned indistinguishable.

Baoxiang's heart surged with shock and shame; he thought victory was in his grasp, eager to fell Feng Yi beneath his blade to avenge the previous humiliation.

Unexpectedly, he fell for the trick again! Even though Baoxiang was no nobody, he was so frightened his soul seemed to leave his body, he pushed his lightness skill to the utmost and fluttered backward. But the alley was inherently narrow; in his panic he only thought of retreating, completely forgetting that he had stepped back more than a zhang, and with a bang his back struck the wall.

However, Feng Yi's long sword thrust forth like a snake's tongue, the tip pressing against Baoxiang's chest at the Chest Center point.

This is a mortal point of the human body; Baoxiang instantly felt a surge of energy pressing directly against the aperture, daring not to move rashly.

Feng Yi coldly snorted: 'Is the Blood Saber Classic hidden in your bosom?'

Sweat instantly beaded on Baoxiang's forehead; he stared wide‑eyed, stammering: 'You… you…'

Feng Yi gave a hum: 'Another errand boy delivering treasure.'

With a flick of the sword tip, he sliced straight across Baoxiang's chest, a hiss sounded, and where the clothing split, a yellow object was flicked up into the air by the blade's edge.

Baoxiang startled, hastily leapt up, trying to grab it.

But his every move was under Feng Yi's control; before his hand could clutch the yellow bundle, he felt a dark energy strike his chest, the force extremely fierce.

As Baoxiang was about to gather his full inner strength to resist, with a bang his whole body felt like an electric shock; his body weighing over a hundred jin slammed violently into the wall behind him.

Although the wall was not particularly sturdy, being built of earth, upon his impact there was a crackling sound, a large patch of plaster with bricks fell away, revealing a human‑shaped hole in the wall.

Baoxiang, embedded in the wall, instantly felt his bones go soft and his tendons numb, his five viscera and six bowels seeming to overturn; unable to bear the pain, he spat a large mouthful of fresh blood, his voice trembling: 'You seize… our sect's martial arts, it is not right……'

Feng Yi's smile faded, his voice cold as ice: 'You lecher whose lust clouds your mind, today you die by my hand — this is your fate.'

As he spoke, he extended his long sword, flicked it upward; the yellow bundle spun half a turn in the air and lightly landed in his left hand.

Baoxiang's meridians and bones were already shattered, yet he hoarsely cried: 'A commoner… innocent, you too… you too… will not… have!'

Before he could finish, his eyes widened in death and he expired.

'Clang…'

The sound of Feng Yi's long sword returning to its scabbard drowned out Baoxiang's weak voice of reluctance.

Feng Yi opened the small oilcloth bundle, saw inside another layer of oil paper; upon opening the oil paper he found a small yellow‑paper book, its cover covered with winding strokes that were neither characters nor pictures, which he could not recognize; he thought it must be Tibetan script.

Upon opening it, he saw on the first page a drawing of a thin, withered naked man, one hand pointing to heaven, the other to earth, his face. It was extremely strange, and beside it were filled with five‑colored strange characters resembling tadpoles, some red, some green.

Feng Yi looked at the figure in the drawing: hooked nose, deep eyes, coiled hair, high cheekbones, dark complexion, not resembling a person of middle or upper class, his appearance very strange; he couldn't help but show delight, knowing this was the object he sought: the Blood Saber Classic.

While fighting Baoxiang, Feng Yi noticed a faint bulge in his chest and guessed it must be the Blood Saber Classic, so he first flicked it out; then he struck heavily to kill him, otherwise he'd still worry about damaging the book and being unable to read it! As for Baoxiang's severe misjudgment of Feng Yi's strength…

If he had the ability to strike in the instant when Feng Yi just received Blood Saber Old Ancestor's move, or if Feng Yi, while facing Blood Saber Old Ancestor and several of his disciples, had taken that blow to his qi sea, Feng Yi would naturally be unable to resist their successive counterattacks, inevitably falling into a life‑or‑death situation beyond his control.

But when Feng Yi was struck, Blood Saber Old Ancestor himself was still in a dazed state, let alone others?

Before massacring Blood Saber Old Ancestor, Feng Yi deliberately walked slowly, saying this and that, indeed he was regulating his qi.

And the reason he cut off Blood Saber Old Ancestor's tongue and chopped off his limbs when the latter spouted empty bluster was to make it appear that he himself was wounded, so he could first buy time and then kill to silence him.

Yet at that time he still retained at least sixty percent of his combat strength; running here, the mouthful of black blood he spat was actually stagnant blood, and his internal energy had already flowed completely unimpeded.

You should know that in the original plot, Ding Dian was poisoned by the 'Golden Wave Ten‑Day Flower'; his blood congealed into paste, he spat blood, yet he could still regain some of his martial power.

Feng Yi had merely absorbed a little of the Blood Saber Classic's internal energy; the two are of the same nature, and his perfected Divine Illumination Art, compared to it, is like the sea receiving a stream — that slight discomfort had long since dissolved and vanished without trace.

Feng Yi merely ran fast on purpose, then walked slowly, all to create the impression that he was barely holding on, that his face was as pale as gold paper, or that he was circulating his internal energy in reverse to provoke it; the aim was to lure people into taking the bait.

After all, if something can be settled in one go, running off elsewhere would be too boring.

Fortunately, effort is not betrayed by the sincere; he attracted Baoxiang and obtained the Blood Saber Classic.

The only one he felt sorry for was Di Yun.

Both of these divine arts have completely fallen into his hands.

Thinking of this, Feng Yi suddenly had an idea…

As he was secretly pondering the wonderful aspects of this matter, suddenly he heard the sound of horse hooves from afar, drawing nearer and nearer, more than ten steeds in all. Outside the alley, too, there was the tramp of boots and a hubbub of voices; a solemn voice said: 'Are you really here?' This was Ling Tui Si's voice.

Several people shouted at once: 'It's right here.'

'The chief is certainly correct.'

'The grand master's mark is right here.'

'Moreover, his loud laughter just now came from here.'

'Surround the entire street and alley.'

Feng Yi listened, feeling both startled and delighted, muttering to himself: 'Is this a successful fishing, or is it the case that the tree wishes calm but the wind will not cease?' A flash of fierce light crossed his eyes.

Having rewrapped the Blood Saber Classic and concealed it close to his body at the waist,

he saw dozens of sturdy, sharp‑eyed men in vigorous attire crowding around Ling Tui Si as they entered.

Ling Tui Si had not yet approached within five zhang of Feng Yi when he stopped, gazed at Feng Yi, his eyes slightly dazed, then glanced at Baoxiang, a look of surprise in his eyes, and said: 'Those who commit rape and plunder deserve death!'

He flung that sentence at Baoxiang with utter contempt.

Feng Yi replied lightly: 'He committed rape and plunder, deserving death; you're not much better either.' Saying this, he stepped forward.

Clang! One person drew his knife, shouting "Bold!" He pointed at Feng Yi and bellowed, "Feng Yi, how dare you speak to the Dragon Chief like that!"

Feng Yi's gaze fell on that person, and he said coldly, "Chen Fei, considering we grew up together, don't force me to kill you!"

This Chen Fei, like the original self, had joined the Longsha Gang since childhood. Moreover, Feng Yi had already noticed that everyone around Ling Tui Si were members of the Longsha Gang, most of them old acquaintances of the original self, plus his subordinates.

After all, the original self had once been a minor leader of the Longsha Gang, with dozens of subordinates.

Chen Fei, hearing Feng Yi's words, also felt a bit guilty and timid; he sheathed his knife, clasped his hands, and said, "Feng Yi, the Chief Dragon has come today with a few words he wishes to say to you; he certainly did not come to shout for fighting and killing—why must you be so hostile?"

Feng Yi stared for a moment, looked Ling Tui Si up and down, then smiled and said, "So that's how it is; I haven't been close to the Chief Dragon in a long time—let us get close now." As he spoke, he reached out his hand, intending to approach.

Ling Tui Si raised his folding fan and shouted, "Don't come over! If you have something to say, say it like this!"

How could Ling Tui Si dare let Feng Yi approach? Feng Yi gave a slight smile, stopped his steps, clasped his hands behind his back, and said, "What words? Speak, let me hear them!"

Ling Tui Si gently swayed his folding fan and said leisurely, "Feng Yi, between us we should not have come to this point."

I wanted to take you as my adopted son and even give you my daughter in marriage, but you judged me by your own standards, always suspecting I would harm you, which caused us to become enemies.

Well, no matter what, all that is in the past; fortunately we are both unharmed, which is a blessing! This minor grudge ought to be laughed off for your father's sake, don't you agree?

Feng Yi replied lightly, "What if I say no?"

Ling Tui Si's face sank like water, his heart filled with resentment; given his status, he had actively lowered himself to reconcile with Feng Yi, yet he never expected the other side to leave him no way to save face.

The remaining members of the Longsha Gang were all visibly angry, filled with righteous indignation, but the gang's rules were strict; since Ling Tui Si had not spoken, no one dared to act.

Ling Tui Si gave a bitter smile and said, "Feng Yi, I know your martial arts are now unrivaled under heaven, with none to match you, but what more do you want from me?"

You, in my presence, assisted Ding Dian in abducting my daughter; I said I would release you, and I did—I have not gone back on my word.

This is not because I fear death, but because I regard your father as my old sworn brother, and he sacrificed himself for the gang's great cause.

You are a junior; having made a mistake, both emotionally and rationally I should give you one chance!

Even so, after a pause he said, "The Wan family affair is only because I am not just the gang's Dragon Chief, but also the Prefect of Jingzhou; I must answer to the imperial court and the elders of Jingzhou, so you ought to understand my difficulties."

You have not suffered any harm, yet you remain unyielding; must I really kneel and kowtow to beg your forgiveness, or must you take my old life as a sacrifice to your great hero Feng's sword before you will relent?

(End of chapter)