“Time for what?” Su Xiao questioned.
Seeing as Ming Feizhen just kept his arms folded, Yu Feiyuan followed the direction Ming Feizhen peered with her eyes and concentrated her on her senses. “Someone is over there,” whispered Yu Feiyuan, enunciating only loud enough for Su Xiao and Ming Feizhen to hear.
Su Xiao saw sky-reaching trees and felt cold winds, unaware the latter was overwhelming hostility. He didn’t have the luxury for questions, though, because Tang Ye and Yi Wangyou’s sword fight stung him with their qi that was changing the temperature around.
Once again, neither Tang Ye no Yi Wangyou could get the better of the other. The qi from both of them combined turned the surroundings into what could be described as a hot spring.
“Your unorthodox methods cannot win against my orthodox skills!” proclaimed Yi Wangyou, diving into the white mist and taking big swings at Tang Ye – Desolate Sword Dance techniques.
Desolate Sword Dance is a style for offence, relying on varying powerful attacks. Yi Wangyou only mastered up to the seventh move, an already commendable achievement. The number of Kunlun patriarchs who mastered all twelve moves could be counted on one hand.
The ancient style consisted of two components: sword soul and sword techniques. Sword soul referred to the mental cultivation aspect, while sword techniques referred to each and every physical move. Learning the techniques without the mental cultivation was close to a pointless endeavour.
While many mental cultivation styles pursued comprehension of something, Desolate Sword Dance’s mental cultivation was about repetition until it was agonising and then more in order to gain fluency. It wouldn’t have been too boring back in the days, where they lived in the harsh cold, because they would’ve learnt it out of necessity similarly to Yang Blood True Qi. The reasoning behind that design was to etch it into the practitioner’s mind as an instinct, empowering them to use the mental cultivation when fighting without needing to consciously think about it.
As soon as Yi Wangyou whipped out the fourth move – Cloudgazing Armour Severing – he established his dominance against Tang Ye. The reason Tang Ye’s mechanical reactions kept him afloat until then was his innate intelligence. Once Yi Wangyou used a move intended for breaking through defences, Tang Ye was trapped in a flurry of attacks and white smoke.
Calling on his experience since childhood, where he had elite bodyguards as a young boy and met with big names out in the world, Emperor Yuansheng commented, “If he had twenty more years to train, he would have a place among the best of the best. I would find it a pity if another loss this time erases his motivation to climb once again.”
“Hargh!” Tang Ye lunged and unleashed a fist onto Yi Wangyou’s sword, a tactic unlike Tang Ye. Tang Ye had never utilised a crass style that even brawlers could imitate, and nobody, besides one man, believed it would’ve worked if the two weren’t already so close.
“Brother Feizhen, that technique resembles yours,” Yu Feiyuan noted in a soft voice.
“Well, learning whatever he sees is what makes him a prodigy,” Ming Feizhen replied.
“However, his internal energy…”
Simply put, Yi Wangyou had years on Tang Ye to develop his strength, so for Tang Ye to think he could muscle his way to a win was sheer arrogance, not to mention the disparity in experience as well as technical refinement.
Yi Wangyou absorbed the impact with his sword as if Tang Ye had a pillow for a fist, and, as long as he could keep defusing Tang Ye’s similar attacks, he could walk Tang Ye down once Tang Ye was gassed.
The second Yi Wangyou twirled his wrist, Tang Ye enveloped his fist in flames, prompting Yi Wangyou to guard with his sword. It wasn’t Yang Blood True Qi; it was something that hit even hotter and harder. The surprising speed and power sent Yi Wangyou skidding back a few metres and suffering a delayed injury from within.
His expedited improvement must have something to do with the glow on his fists, but what is it?
Green Prince and company didn’t see how Tang Ye drove Yi Wangyou back since Tang Ye had his back to them unlike Emperor Yuansheng’s side.
“Brother Feizhen.” Yu Feiyuan turned to Ming Feizhen.
“You recognise it?” Ming Feizhen inquired.
“I do.”
“You’re not wrong,” Ming Feizhen stated in a languid tone.
“How does he know it?”
Given Tang Ye barely wriggled out of doom and Yi Wangyou took damage, the victory hinged on whether or not Tang Ye had any more surprises for the latter.
Unlike everyone else Ming Feizhen was more fixated on the woods than the fight, heaving a big breath and saying, “Here we go.”
“Look who we have here: a group of monkeys fighting each other. How lame,” a woman jibed from the woods.
Yi Wangyou wiped his bloody lips and shouted, “Who goes there?!”
“Well, if I’m not your enemy or friend but someone who wants your head, what’s the term for it?”
“All those who ever wanted this one’s life are now called corpses.”
“Patriarch Yi, you are putting yourself on a pedestal higher than you are worthy of, don’t you think? I couldn’t bear to kill you.”
“Evil Spirits’ River Monster!” blurted Emperor Yuansheng, identifying the voice.
The tall bear accompanying River Monster didn’t rustle Yi Wangyou’s feathers whatsoever. “You don’t want to kill me?” he bluntly asked.
“Of course,” River Monster answered with a cackle.
With a wave of her arm, over five hundred men in black marched on the group that was oblivious to the enemy ambush the entire time. After they were scattered during their infiltration into the Central Plain, some of Evil Spirits’ members kept a low profile, while some sneaked in afterwards.
“My target is all of you.”