Chapter 382 Sword Beast

Linlang felt a chill run down his spine.

A name once feared across the entire Xuanhuang Continent—how could Guangling, known far and wide by experts, be anything but extraordinary? The moment he sensed danger, he didn’t hesitate to abandon his physical body to preserve his soul.

Yet even with such a decisive retreat, Chen Fei’s fist still brushed against Linlang’s soul.

Normally, even a fierce strike wouldn’t pose a serious threat to a soul—but this time, Chen Fei’s fist carried with it the Void Heaven Cauldron.

The moment it sensed the soul, the silent cauldron became like a cat smelling fresh fish—and instantly began devouring Linlang’s soul.

“Damn it! What the hell is that thing?!” Linlang’s soul trembled. He was in disbelief.

But with his current perilous state, he had no choice—he severed a part of his soul, cutting away the portion being devoured to save the rest.

This was the instinct and experience of a true expert.

Though Linlang managed to escape, Chen Fei had no intention of letting him go.

His body transformed into a blur, moving so fast it caused shockwaves through space as he chased after Linlang’s soul.

Linlang’s face was twisted with both hatred and gloom as he looked back at Chen Fei.

After this fight, it would take him at least a century—with constant elixirs and spiritual supplements—just to regain his current strength. How could he not be enraged at Chen Fei?

“Chen Fei, I will remember you!” he spat viciously, then vanished from the stage in a blink.

As he said, he had the ability to control the Yi Xian Platform. If not for Chen Fei’s overwhelming speed and misleading attacks, he wouldn’t have suffered such a disastrous loss.

Chen Fei stared at the fading remnants of Linlang’s soul, a hint of regret in his eyes.

What a pity—he got away.

—

Meanwhile, outside the platform, Yan Wujiao, who had just been smiling at the match, now wore a dark and furious expression.

Linlang had been one of his aces in the hole. Beyond his strength, his control over the Yi Xian Platform alone was enough to secure a key advantage. That kind of talent could earn a Ghost King Token without even fighting!

Now, Linlang had not only failed, but been crippled to the point of soul damage.

“Impressive… Very impressive!” Yan Wujiao growled through gritted teeth. “Worthy of being Tianqing Sacred Land’s core disciple!”

It was a devastating blow—like losing both wife and army in one strike. How could anyone endure such humiliation?

Mu Yunshu turned and glanced at Yan Wujiao.

Tianqing Sacred Land had clearly walked into a trap this time, and Yan Wujiao’s frustration was evident. But Chen Fei’s performance had been brilliant, and she couldn’t help feeling pleased.

“You flatter him,” she said coolly. “But I wonder how long you can keep Guangling’s soul safe.”

Yan Wujiao’s face darkened.

Guangling’s fame was immense—which naturally meant he had countless enemies, not only among the righteous sects but even within the demonic factions. Many would want him dead.

If that weren’t the case, why else would he change his name and body to become Linlang?

Now that Mu Yunshu had exposed his true identity, he would undoubtedly draw the attention of those old enemies.

Yan Wujiao sneered, “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Still, he flicked his sleeve and collected Guangling’s damaged soul, not daring to leave it exposed.

If left unattended, someone in the shadows could try to devour it—and even he, as the sect master, wouldn’t be able to stop it. He knew too well just how ruthless his peers in the demonic sects were.

He lifted his gaze toward Chen Fei, eyes flashing with icy light.

Chen Fei, meanwhile, hadn’t noticed the rising tension outside. Instead, his focus had shifted to the other arenas.

Earlier, his banter had kept the mood light, but now the atmosphere was growing grim.

Aside from his own arena, every other platform was locked in intense battles.

And this was only the first round—such high consumption of energy and effort, even with replenishing pills, would carry a cost in future rounds.

After all, none of them had the Void Heaven Cauldron.

In particular, the battle between Fan Chen and Duo Mingzi had reached a fever pitch.

Chen Fei had to admit: they were terrifyingly strong.

So strong, in fact, that he realized defeating either of them might take everything he had.

The key difference was realm—they were both only one step away from the Earth Dao Realm.

For geniuses like them, fighting across realms was standard. That alone said how brutal their duel had become.

Fan Chen’s control over flame techniques was pure and refined. Every casual movement dictated the flow of battle.

Duo Mingzi’s flying sword techniques were sharp, unpredictable, and hard to defend against, yet still couldn’t pierce through the flames surrounding Fan Chen.

If things kept going like this, Duo Mingzi would likely lose.

Chen Fei saw it—so did the two fighters themselves.

“It’s been a while since I had such a worthy opponent,” Duo Mingzi suddenly said, stopping his attack and taking a step back.

Fan Chen smiled, though his gaze remained sharp. He nodded.

“Same here. This has been a satisfying fight. Interesting.”

He raised his arm gently, and a clear birdlike cry rang out.

At that moment, red marks appeared on his forehead, and two flaming birds materialized behind him, circling above like phoenixes.

As they spiraled, they formed a giant fiery halo that floated behind his head.

Duo Mingzi’s side was equally striking. He took a deep breath, pressed his index and middle fingers together, and summoned a sword of gleaming cold light.

“That’s Duo Mingzi’s legendary soul weapon—the Frost Sword!”

“Wrong! That’s a beast soul weapon! It’s the shed essence of a fallen Sword Beast, named Frost! Get it right before you talk, idiot!”

It was well known that artifact soul weapons were weaker than beast soul weapons—except in rare cases like Chen Fei.

Duo Mingzi stared solemnly at the icy sword in front of him.

“This is my strongest sword. It contains everything I’ve learned. You are worthy of witnessing it.”

Fan Chen nodded with a calm smile.

“Then it is my honor.”

He waved his arm again.

The two fiery birds landed in his palms, then transformed into two distinct flames.

The left flame burned gold-red, bright and scorching.

The right flame turned a dark crimson, cold and oppressive.

Yet despite their difference, both flames radiated an explosive tension—especially the right one, which seemed ready to erupt and consume the sky.

Clearly, both fighters had now understood each other’s style.

This next strike would be the one to decide the winner.

But before either could launch their final move, the other platforms had already started declaring victors.