Chapter 69

Unnamed draft

Above the desert, a massive black shadow raced toward them at astonishing speed, moving like a gale sweeping through sand and dust. In an instant, the shadow drew near the small hill, and now it was clear: the black shape was formed by two figures pressed tightly together, their silhouettes appearing unnaturally large due to their close embrace.

Guo Jing instantly recognized the man as the living target Mei Chaofeng had captured for her training. A surge of rage rose in his heart, and he shouted at her: “Put him down!” His voice echoed across the desert, carrying an undeniable authority.

No sooner had Guo Jing spoken than he shot toward Mei Chaofeng like a bolt of lightning. He unleashed the mighty “Dragon Soars with Pride,” his palm wind howling as if a mountain and sea were collapsing upon Mei Chaofeng. Feeling the overwhelming force, her face turned instantly pale—she knew this technique could not be blocked with brute strength. Yet she gritted her teeth, pressed both palms together, and poured every ounce of her strength into defense.

At the moment their palms clashed, Mei Chaofeng was thrown back several steps. She secretly rejoiced: “Thank heaven this boy is still young—his cultivation hasn’t reached its peak; otherwise, I wouldn’t have survived that blow.” Guo Jing, however, wore a cold expression—he knew this battle was far from over. He must be even more cautious to protect the innocent man.

As Mei Chaofeng attacked like a storm of wind and rain, Guo Jing did not immediately unleash the famed Five Thunder Correct Method. He silently tested himself, eager to gauge how far his inner strength had come after years of cultivation.

As they clashed, Mei Chaofeng’s movements grew eerie and vicious, gradually gaining the upper hand. Though Guo Jing possessed the Daoist supreme technique Xiao Wuxiang Gong, his training had been too brief—he had not yet reached mastery, and could not match Mei Chaofeng, a seasoned martial veteran.

In a moment of desperation, Guo Jing struck out with a palm blast, his potent inner force forcing Mei Chaofeng to retreat temporarily. Seizing the opening, he drew a deep breath and adjusted his inner qi. Mei Chaofeng, shaken by the blow, suddenly let out a shrill, prolonged wail—high-pitched yet suffused with an indescribable sorrow.

In the midst of combat, Mei Chaofeng recognized the Daoist inner cultivation technique Guo Jing used. She was secretly astonished—how could this boy have achieved such depth in so short a time? A flicker of wariness stirred in her toward his potential.

To possess such formidable inner strength at such a young age—otherwise, he could never have executed the full Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms.

But I doubt I can subdue him by my own martial skill—I must call the bandit man for help.

At that moment, a long howl echoed from afar, identical to Mei Chaofeng’s earlier cry, faint yet chilling. Instantly, a second howl rose—this one much closer.

Guo Jing looked down the hill and saw a black shadow racing toward them faster than a galloping horse, howling as it ran.

“Woman, how’s it going?” Chen Xuanfeng shouted as he arrived.

“Man, we must capture this child alive—he carries a supreme Daoist inner art. Subdue him, then force him to surrender his cultivation!” Mei Chaofeng roared at Chen Xuanfeng, her voice echoing through the night, thick with fierce resolve and unyielding dominance.

Chen Xuanfeng and Mei Chaofeng exchanged glances, their eyes filled with shock and confusion. Then Guo Jing’s voice rang out beside them, cold and tinged with mockery: “Capture me?”

“It seems you two still don’t grasp the danger you’re in.” No sooner had Guo Jing spoken than brilliant white light flared around him, as if countless stars spun in a halo about his body. The pitch-black night instantly blazed into daylight—so radiant it blinded the eyes.