Chapter Fourteen: Divide and Conquer

The sudden, intense pain instantly disrupted Chen Ying’s attack rhythm, leaving him riddled with openings.

Mu Feng, whose swordsmanship far surpassed his, would never let such a prime opportunity slip by.

Suddenly accelerating his sword strikes, Mu Feng took advantage of Chen Ying’s unpreparedness, unleashing a flurry of slashes. The sword light wove like silk, carving several fresh wounds across Chen Ying’s body.

Caught off guard, Chen Ying’s rage flared. “Shameless!” he snarled.

Staggering backward several steps, his fury threatened to consume him, but the throbbing pain reminded him that after his fierce battle with Cang Lang, he was far from his best state.

Mu Feng’s mocking gaze fixed on him, as if watching a mouse toyed with at will.

A thought of retreat took hold—he had decided to flee.

As the saying goes, “As long as the green hills remain, one need not worry about firewood.” His eyes swept over Ding Lin and Zhu Yan not far away, cursing inwardly, “What dead weight!”

Without hesitation, he turned and fled, utterly indifferent to their survival.

Ding Lin’s face paled as she supported the gravely injured Zhu Yan, momentarily at a loss.

Mu Feng narrowed his eyes, watching Chen Ying vanish into the dense forest, scoffing disdainfully—such a coward, clinging desperately to life, would never achieve greatness.

Turning to Zhu Yan and Ding Lin, he smiled faintly. “I only want the Fire Gold Vine; if you two behave, you won’t die.”

With a wave of his hand, his disciples quickly bound the two.

Having finished, Mu Feng said to the disciple carrying the arrow case, “Let’s go, catch up with him.”

...

Just as Mu Feng felt confident and certain of victory, he failed to notice a verdant leaf swaying gently beneath his cloak.

Nearby, within the soundproof array, Yue Dong and Qing Lan quietly observed the whole scene.

Qing Lan watched with great interest. “A real dog-eat-dog spectacle.”

Yue Dong’s gaze lingered on the bound Zhu Yan and Ding Lin, his anger toward Chen Ying growing.

Following Chen Ying’s fleeing figure, Yue Dong’s tone was grave. “Let’s go. It’s time we settled accounts.”

Qing Lan reined in her smile, and the two parted ways.

...

Under the cover of night, Chen Ying stumbled in flight, leaving a trail of blood.

“Damn it! Damn it! A bunch of hateful scum...” He gritted his teeth, cursing relentlessly.

His grand plans, his pride and confidence born from breaking through his limits, all lay shattered.

Jealousy blazed fiercely in his chest, growing ever more intense. He once only secretly envied Yue Dong for entering the late Enlightenment Realm at just twenty-three; now, he seethed at the aristocratic families—their shields were spirit artifacts, and so were their arrow cases!

All treasures he longed for but could never obtain.

Just as these emotions threatened to engulf him completely, the air around him suddenly stilled, carrying a strange aura.

Chen Ying remained oblivious, still lost in curses: “Once I’m healed, you’ll all die, you’ll all die!”

Before he could finish, a subtle unease crept into his heart. He sensed something was amiss.

Forcing himself to calm down, he was shocked to see that the once thick forest foliage had vanished, replaced by a vast expanse of quicksand. He was trapped in the center, his feet sinking deeply.

He struggled, but the harder he fought, the faster the sand swallowed him, his legs disappearing beneath the surface, impossible to escape.

In that instant, his face changed drastically, a sudden realization flashing in his eyes—this was clearly a powerful second-tier spirit formation!

Cursing his carelessness, he quickly scanned the surroundings and cautiously called out, “Which senior enlightened one is here? I mean no offense; please show mercy and spare me!”

A familiar voice suddenly whispered in his ear, chilling as a biting wind, causing a shudder to race down Chen Ying’s spine.

“I’m no senior, and I won’t spare you.”

Chen Ying painfully turned his stiff neck, locking eyes with the cold, indifferent face of Yue Dong.

He was alive!

How could this be?

Horrified and incredulous, Chen Ying struggled to speak, each word squeezed through clenched teeth: “You... you’ve already advanced to second-tier Array Master?”

His voice trembled with deep-seated jealousy.

Yue Dong said nothing. His calm silence only fueled Chen Ying’s fury, prompting a roar: “Why? Why is it that you can enter the Know-Subtle Realm after just ten years of cultivation?”

Before the words fell, a finger hidden behind Chen Ying’s back twitched subtly. A silent sword light, concealed by the shifting sand of the desert, silently circled behind Yue Dong like a venomous snake, poised to strike a fatal blow.

But just as the blade neared, it struck an invisible wall—a faint spiritual energy shield blocked its advance completely.

Yue Dong’s expression remained unruffled, his tone cool: “After all these years fighting side by side, Chen Ying, you’re always the same.”

Chen Ying’s face darkened, whether from the quickening spread of the quicksand to his abdomen or Yue Dong’s words piercing a sore spot within, he could not tell.

...

Elsewhere, Mu Feng abruptly halted his swift pace in the forest. His brow furrowed as his sharp eyes swept the surroundings.

“Chief, what’s wrong?” a disciple asked in confusion.

Mu Feng said nothing, his gaze fixed on the leaves in the forest. The night still cloaked everything in silence, the wind silently stirring scattered fallen leaves.

At first, the leaves fell sporadically, unnoticed around them. Gradually, the leaves seemed drawn by an unseen force, quietly detaching from branches one by one, weaving a flowing curtain around the two.

Mu Feng’s heart tightened, hand gripping the sword hilt.

The falling leaves suddenly ceased to feel natural. Following the wind’s pattern, the leaves began spinning faster, like countless sharp blades dancing wildly around them, forming an impenetrable encirclement.

Before the disciple could react, the first leaf sliced across his face, leaving a blood trail.

Then, the leaves’ spinning accelerated further. Countless razor-sharp blades rained down like a storm, cutting hundreds of wounds over him, blood spurting forth as he collapsed in agony.

Mu Feng, however, remained unscathed. Seeing this, he showed no concern for the disciple’s fate, his eyes fixed instead on the western thicket’s shadows.

Qing Lan slowly emerged from the darkness. Mu Feng showed no surprise. “So it’s you, Qing Lan.”

He appraised her with an almost admiring gaze, remarking, “Truly the healing master of our Mu family. Even without spiritual roots, you can still maintain a protective spiritual force. Quite unexpected.”

...