Chapter 392

Hu Xiaotian said: "Then I, Xiaotian, will boldly speculate: the Talented Person's injury must be the result of someone's deliberate scheme, using the Ice Soul Asura Palm to wound her. This palm technique must be treated by Sir using the Fusing Yang Unbounded Skill. In this process, Sir's internal energy suffers great damage, and his strength will surely be greatly reduced in a short time. The plotter behind this will likely take this opportunity to deal with Sir."

Ji Feihua smiled and said: "Not bad!"

Hu Xiaotian said: "Such a simple principle I can think of, so I definitely won't hide it from Sir. If Sir had already seen through the opponent's scheme, knowingly going toward danger, then Sir must have Yingdui de ce."

Ji Feihua's eyes showed an appreciative expression; this lad did not waste my regard for him, his mind so clear, he should see through my layout tonight clearly.

Hu Xiaotian said: "Sir's martial prowess is outstanding; even if some internal energy is lost, perhaps it won't be that serious."

Ji Feihua laughed and said: "You mean I'm feigning illness?"

Hu Xiaotian said: "I, Xiaotian, dare not guess recklessly." Yet in his heart he was certain that Ji Feihua's injury was not as serious as it appeared, even including his spitting blood in the Bright Moon Palace just now, which was merely an act for Qin Yutong to see—could it be that he even suspects Qin Yutong?

Ji Feihua said: "I originally thought Wen Ya was merely a pawn, but I never expected her to be hidden so deeply."

Hu Xiaotian's heart gave a start, yet he did not know why Ji Feihua's remark came about.

Ji Feihua said: "An ordinary person suffering such severe injury would have long been dead, and could not possibly be alive today."

Hu Xiaotian said: "Qin Yutong's medical skill is superb; she rushed to the Bright Moon Palace at once. Perhaps it was her help that allowed Wen Ya to survive until now." In Hu Xiaotian's heart he still insisted that Wen Ya was Le Yao, and Le Yao in his memory remained that gentle, charming little widow.

Ji Feihua shook his head and said: "It's impossible; the efficacy of medicine is ultimately limited. At that time I had her stop treatment not to slow the spread of the cold poison, but to see just how far Wen Ya's endurance could go."

Hu Xiaotian said: "You mean, Wen Ya is feigning injury?"

Ji Feihua said: "Even I cannot discern her origin. Her injury is genuine, and I used the Fusing Yang Unbounded Skill to dispel the cold poison in her body, which indeed consumed some of my internal energy."

Hu Xiaotian said: "Wen Ya is so young that even if she had started martial arts training from childhood, she wouldn't be too formidable."

Ji Feihua said: "Since Quan De'an could transfer ten years of his internal energy entirely onto you, others can do the same."

Hu Xiaotian sucked in a breath of cold air: "Could it be that she truly possesses martial arts?"

Ji Feihua said: "I probed her meridians with internal energy and found no trace of internal power, yet if she had never cultivated martial arts, how could her meridians be so strong as to withstand the heavy blow of the Ice Soul Asura Palm?" Ji Feihua's beautiful brows furrowed; to this day he still could not fathom the reason.

Hu Xiaotian said: "Sir, why not stay to investigate clearly, but instead choose to leave the palace at such a time?" Actually he had already vaguely guessed the answer in his heart; Ji Feihua should be using the opponent's plan against them. His loss is absolutely not as severe as it appears on the surface; the reason he spat blood on the spot was likely to put on a show for others, including himself—he had Sir accompany him out of the palace to this place not because he trusted Sir, but because he suspected Sir. Ji Feihua is also laying out a plot. If the plotter behind Wen Ya deliberately used the Ice Soul Asura Palm to drain Sir's internal energy, then the other side would certainly not miss this chance to assassinate Ji Feihua, and may already be trailing behind.

Since Ji Feihua had already foreseen all this, he would not be unprepared. Hu Xiaotian thought of this and could not help but feel a chill in his heart, as if sensing danger slowly approaching.

Ji Feihua finished eating the sweet potato, took the white towel Hu Xiaotian handed him and slowly wiped his hands; a pair of hands warm and smooth like jade, flawless, seemed to glow in the lamplight. Ji Feihua said: "What must come will always come; stay in the room, without any orders from the Zajia. Do not come out."

He rose slowly and walked toward the door; before he even reached it, the door opened inward on its own, without wind.

In the endless snowy plain, three black steeds flashed like three bolts of black lightning across the snow, approaching Azure Cloud Lake at astonishing speed.

Ji Feihua stood against the wind, his red long robe pulled behind him by the northern wind, outlining his arrogant curves that could make countless women bend waist. His pair of long brows slanted like swords into his temples, his eyes like cold stars, gazing frostily at the distant horizon.

Hu Xiaotian took his fur cloak and came behind him, gently helping him drape it over his shoulders.

Ji Feihua did not turn back, yet on his icy, cold, exquisite face a hint of warmth appeared.

Hu Xiaotian said: "Xiaotian vows to protect Sir with his life!" In this situation he had no choice; he must stand with Ji Feihua.

Ji Feihua nodded, his body shook, and the black fur cloak flew out, wrapping Hu Xiaotian within; a strong internal force carried Hu Xiaotian flying backward into the thatched hut, then gently landed on the ground, as if someone had embraced him and set him down softly. After Hu Xiaotian landed, the door shut with a bang!

Ji Feihua slowly coiled his hair, then snapped off a dry branch from nearby to use as a Hairpin, inserting it into his hair bun.

At the forefront, a black steed led the way; the black-clad rider had already charged onto the long bridge, instantly reaching its midpoint. Ji Feihua's eyes flashed with killing intent; he stepped forward vigorously, his foot touching down and almost without pause, his body leapt up from the bridge, in midair he clenched his right fist and launched a forward punch.

His snow-white, tender fist, moving at high speed, kicked up a gale; an incomparable gust of wind swirled around his right fist, forming, and then forming a huge wind mass.

The black-clad rider's pupils contracted sharply; his body sprang from the horse's back, soaring up about five zhang, and his waist sword rang out of its sheath.

The fierce gust made the black steed neigh; the horse halted abruptly, its hind legs planted on the bridge surface, forelegs raised high; Ji Feihua's right fist, wrapped in the gale, struck the horse's chest, sending a tall steed weighing one thousand five hundred jin flying sideways, like a broken kite soaring more than two zhang into the air, blood spurting wildly amid its neighs as it crashed into the pursuing black-clad rider behind.

After the sword was drawn, it measured four chi in length; the black-clad warrior twisted his wrist, activated the hilt mechanism, and with a Clang! a hidden section shot out from the blade, extending the sword to six chi five cun; gripping it with both hands and raising it overhead, he brought it down on Ji Feihua with the force of Mount Tai pressing down.

The six chi five cun sword, infused with internal energy, extended a blade aura one zhang long; as the sword swung, the aura detached from the blade, like a dazzling lightning bolt striking toward Ji Feihua's head. In its motion, the aura continually expanded, instantly reaching a length of two zhang.

Ji Feihua halted with his toes, the long bridge snapped apart midspan, the front section of the bridge surface rising straight up vertically to meet the blade aura.

The steed flung by Ji Feihua's punch had already landed, then slammed into the second black horse, flesh and blood flying; the second black-clad assassin launched into the air amid the blood rain, his body smeared with flesh and blood, like an arrow released from a bow, his long sword pointing straight ahead, man and sword as one, breaking through the stench and gore at incredible speed, crossing the broken long bridge, and thrusting toward Ji Feihua's chest with unstoppable momentum.

The blade aura and bridge surface collided, emitting a thunderous roar; a brilliant light split the bridge surface irresistibly, Ji Feihua's lip curled in a mocking smile, his right hand coiled tightly, the bridge surface suddenly contracted inward, then exploded with a Bang! shattering into countless wood chips that covered the blade aura like a swarm of bees dancing, or like a vast net spread across the sky enveloping the sword-wielding assassin. The ball of wood chips forming above his head suddenly compressed, then rapidly expanded, tearing apart the assassin's flesh and sword, blood rain pouring down. Ji Feihua swept his long sleeve, a transparent stream arcing over his head to form a transparent dome above him, shielding him from the blood rain and flesh.

The second assassin had already flown to within less than three chi of Ji Feihua; the blade and air heated rapidly from high-speed friction, the cold moisture on the lake surface met the sudden temperature rise, turning into white mist, which the assassin's tearing body shaped into a straight white smoke, like a white dragon over ten zhang long.

Ji Feihua's right fist was already clenched; he threw a punch toward this white dragon, actually intending to oppose the razor‑sharp sword with his flesh. When he threw the punch, a noticeable rotating motion occurred, spiral force coiling around his right fist to form a vortex; the white dragon first contacted this vortex, and like falling into an endless abyss, it twisted and deformed under Ji Feihua's tremendous spiral force, its energy pulled apart centrifugally—the point where its power had been concentrated became its weakest link.

Ji Feihua's fist extended from the vortex, looming before the assassin's eyes, accurately striking his face; the sound of breaking bones rang out.

Ji Feihua's robe remained unstained by a speck of dust, yet a strong scent of blood spread silently with the night.

Only one of the three assassins remained; with a neigh, the last assassin rode his horse over the corpses of the two black steeds, the black horse like a heavenly dragon, under the rider's control leapt across the three zhang wide gap of the broken bridge, man and horse united like divine soldiers descending, and upon reaching the bridge entrance the assassin had already swung his meteor hammer— the hammer like a shooting star, its skull‑sized head rumbling with wind and thunder— straight at Ji Feihua's face.

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