Chapter Thirteen: Dog Eats Dog

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Ding Lin hurriedly stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Chen Ying, about to speak, but before a word left her lips, she noticed Chen Ying’s gaze fall upon the fiery golden vine in her hands. Chen Ying gently took the spiritual herb with both hands, a barely concealed excitement shining in his expression. This fiery golden vine was worth five hundred low-grade spirit stones—rare and precious beyond measure. With such a hefty sum, he could finally purchase a spirit weapon!

More importantly, Yue Dong had been a thorn in his side for years. Watching the other’s growth had left him restless and uneasy. Now that he had finally eliminated this great threat, how could he not feel elated?

Ding Lin looked at Chen Ying, hesitating before finally daring to ask, “Boss, what about Yue Dong and Qing Lan… can they still be saved?”

Chen Ying’s eyes suddenly sharpened as he turned to her, the smile vanishing from his face. “Ding Lin, if you want to die with them, I can make that happen.”

Ding Lin’s body stiffened. She lowered her head, avoiding Chen Ying’s cold, piercing gaze.

Zhu Yan gritted his teeth and struggled to speak, “Chen Ying, Yue Dong… he was after all a comrade for many years, we…”

Before he could finish, Chen Ying snorted coldly and abruptly released Zhu Yan’s arm.

Caught off guard, Zhu Yan staggered back several steps and fell heavily to the ground. The wound that had not yet healed burst open anew, and pain drained the color from his face in an instant.

Chen Ying cast a disdainful glance at the two of them. “I am already at the Zhīwēi Realm. If you want to return alive to Qing Shi Town, then shut up!”

Zhu Yan was silenced, clenching his teeth to endure the pain.

Chen Ying watched their embarrassed expressions, a hint of contempt flashing in his eyes.

Now he no longer needed to hide his strength. At his level in the Zhīwēi Realm, he could easily dominate Qing Shi Town, establish a much larger expedition organization, and these two would be insignificant nuisances.

Just as he indulged in such thoughts, a chilling killing intent silently approached from behind. In the blink of an eye, a spirit sword imbued with piercing coldness pointed straight at his vital heart meridian!

Alarm bells rang in Chen Ying’s mind. He reacted instantly, raising his hand to shield his chest, narrowly avoiding the fatal strike. The sword blade grazed his palm, drawing a line of blood. Pain and fear mingled, making him shudder, but a surge of unprecedented killing intent welled up within his chest.

That was close—he was nearly dead.

“Who’s there?”

A black-clad man emerged from the thicket. Chen Ying’s gaze sharpened like a blazing torch, no hesitation in his movements. His wrist flicked lightly, releasing a fierce sword aura that tore through the air, aiming directly at the man.

“Hmph, a mere Sword Cultivator at the Qǐlíng Realm dares attack me? Foolhardy beyond measure!”

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“Clang!”

However, just as the sword aura was about to strike, it was instantly blocked by another sword. Chen Ying’s sword froze midair, unable to advance further.

He furrowed his brows.

From the shadows stepped a man dressed in elegant robes. He strolled forward calmly and spoke faintly to his disciple, “Stand down.”

The disciple’s face shifted slightly, then sheathed his sword and respectfully withdrew to the side.

The man gave a half-smile that was both warm and strange as he regarded Chen Ying. “Captain Chen, your strike was swift and decisive. You show no mercy even to your own team members, and even when facing a member of my Mu family, your killing intent burns fiercely. Truly admirable youth.”

Chen Ying’s gaze locked onto this newcomer. When he heard the mention of the Mu family, his heart tightened—this was one of the Five Great Clans!

The middle-aged man before him radiated distinguished bearing, no doubt the head of the Martial Hall—Mu Feng.

Suppressing his displeasure, Chen Ying smiled politely, clasping his fists. “I did not expect to meet Mu Hall Master here. The Mu family’s renown precedes them; it is truly an honor to see you in person.”

Mu Feng nodded slightly, an inscrutable smile gracing his face as he exchanged pleasantries. “Brother Chen, you underestimate yourself. Your talent is just emerging, and your strength has risen another level. It seems Qing Shi Town is about to produce a new outstanding figure.”

Chen Ying smiled faintly, saying nothing, though irritation simmered inside him—he knew exactly why Mu Feng had come.

Mu Feng abruptly shifted the topic, speaking plainly, “I have come for the fiery golden vine. My clan has waited over ten years for it to mature. It holds immense significance for us. Brother Chen, if you are willing to part with it, you will gain the friendship of the Mu family.”

His words were sincere and weighty, yet not a word of compensation was mentioned.

Chen Ying sneered inwardly and refused outright. “We fought hard against the Azure Wolf and endured great trials to obtain this treasure. Hall Master Mu’s request is somewhat excessive.”

Mu Feng’s smile faded into a stern, commanding presence. “Brother Chen, you seem unaware of the Mu family’s influence.” He raised his hand slightly, his aura rising. “A wise man knows when to yield. Do you intend to act against the tide and make enemies of the Mu family?”

Chen Ying remained unmoved. He gripped his twin spirit swords tightly; their tips trembled slightly. “If you want what is mine, Hall Master Mu, you’ll need real skill to take it.”

...

Chen Ying studied Mu Feng with a grave expression. Though Chen Ying was now a powerful Zhīwēi Realm cultivator and should be able to handle a late Qǐlíng Realm opponent like Mu Feng with ease, the Mu family was not to be trifled with. Behind Mu Feng surely stood a Ling Yuan Realm powerhouse—someone capable of shaking the entire Ming Mountain.

But then Chen Ying thought: if everyone here died today, he could leave unscathed.

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Chen Ying’s gaze flicked toward Zhu Yan and Ding Lin, a resolute glint shining in his eyes.

Decision made, the spirit swords in his palms hummed as his spiritual energy surged violently, and the two clashed in an instant.

Chen Ying’s aura was like a vast sea; his attacks were fierce and relentless. Sword light flickered, weaving an impenetrable net that bore down on Mu Feng like a storm.

“Clang!”

The clash of metal rang crisply and clearly. Wherever Chen Ying’s sword light struck, Mu Feng was completely suppressed!

Yet Mu Feng remained calm and unfazed. With a single sword, he parried Chen Ying’s ceaseless onslaught with effortless grace each time.

He raised a shield shimmering with spiritual light, firmly blocking Chen Ying’s sharp sword edge.

This sight caused Chen Ying’s heart to jolt — that shield was the very spirit weapon he had long dreamed of possessing.

Even more shocking was that Mu Feng’s sword technique contained a powerful element of order, clearly refined through spiritual arts.

A cold sneer curled Mu Feng’s lips, his tone laced with disdain and pity. “You scattered cultivators possess only your realms, knowing little of true techniques or spirit weapons. How foolish.”

A trace of jealousy flashed in Chen Ying’s eyes. “You think that broken shield can protect you?” He gathered spiritual energy; sword aura flowed like silver dragons at dawn, unleashing killing intent that struck Mu Feng’s shield repeatedly.

Mu Feng raised his sword to block Chen Ying’s attacks, the spirit shield guarding him. Sword and shield formed a formidable defense.

...

As the two stalemated, the Mu family disciple who had struck before silently approached the battlefield, now holding an ancient arrow case.

With a sharp whistle, a wooden arrow flew through the air.

It pierced straight through Chen Ying’s chest, leaving a delicate but bleeding hole.

...