Chapter 18
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Chapter 18: Murderous Intent
Ye Yun took a deep breath and walked toward the opposite cliff wall.
The distance of a hundred zhang vanished in an instant without the whirlpool’s pull.
After glancing upward briefly, he felt reassured.
The disciple with bloodied hands climbed smoothly—this cliff wall seemed no different from the one he’d descended earlier. With his current strength, scaling it would be effortless.
“Hah! You actually survived the whirlpool, little ant. I underestimated you.”
An arrogant voice echoed from below the stone wall. A young man wielding a folding fan stepped into Ye Yun’s view.
Ye Yun frowned, instantly recognizing Duan Chenfeng’s voice. Ignoring him, he tried to walk past.
“What? Pretending not to hear me?” Duan Chenfeng darted forward, blocking Ye Yun’s path.
“We’re still in the Hall of Refining the Heart,” Ye Yun said coldly, his face impassive.
“So?” Duan Chenfeng sneered. “No rules forbid fighting here.”
Anger flickered in Ye Yun’s eyes. “You want a fight here?”
“Show me what you’ve got,” Duan Chenfeng taunted, fan snapping open.
“Seeking death, then.”
Ye Yun’s patience shattered. Channeling spiritual power into his palm, he slashed at Duan Chenfeng with a cold laugh.
“Fool!” Duan Chenfeng smirked. “You think servant disciples only know basic combat skills?”
His folding fan traced an arc, gentle light shimmering along its edge. Suddenly, it stabbed forward like a sword—dozens of strikes unleashed in an instant.
This was no basic skill. The attack’s shifting patterns sealed all escape routes. Even retreating would trigger lethal follow-ups.
True combat skills.
Born into the Duan family of the Capital—royal kin to the Jin Kingdom’s emperor—Duan Chenfeng naturally wielded such techniques as a Heavenly Sword Sect disciple.
Ye Yun grimaced. The fan’s sword-like thrust radiated power surpassing even Liu Rui’s ninth-grade Blood Seal Blood Abyss Hand.
Seventeen or eighteen servant disciples gathered ten zhang away, murmuring as they watched.
“That fan technique! I couldn’t block a single strike.”
“A ninth-grade combat skill! Since when do servant disciples learn those?”
“We train in basic cultivation techniques and combat skills. Our moves look dull compared to this.”
“The Duan family’s Ten Thousand Swords in Unison,” someone whispered. “Legend says masters release ten thousand strikes instantly.”
A youth with refined features watched intently, eyes gleaming.
“Qu Yiping,” a bystander whispered, “you’re from the Capital too. Know Duan Chenfeng?”
Qu Yiping smiled, murderous intent flashing beneath his calm. “He’ll know me soon enough.”
His fingers tightened around a hidden dagger. “I’ll avenge you… that servant disciple.”
In his eyes, Ye Yun might as well have been a corpse.
Most combat skills of the Duan family came from royal rewards. For ordinary sects, each cultivation technique and combat skill represented extraordinary treasures.
Ten Thousand Swords in Unison stood as the pinnacle of ninth-grade combat skills. Legend claimed that at its peak execution, a single sword thrust could generate ten thousand light projections. Though lacking genuine ten-thousand-sword power, distinguishing real from illusory blades became impossible. A moment’s hesitation would mean being shredded by countless blades.
Though Duan Chenfeng shared Ye Yun’s Refining Organs stage four cultivation level, his spiritual power density surpassed ordinary disciples of the same rank. Mere spiritual power superiority wouldn’t have concerned Ye Yun – his own power rivaled fifth stage body refinement disciples, already touching the threshold of Internal Breathing stage.
Yet this sword technique made him wary.
Duan Chenfeng clearly hadn’t mastered Ten Thousand Swords in Unison to its ultimate form – transforming one sword into ten thousand. His rudimentary grasp only produced several dozen light projections. Still, these dozen sword shadows proved sufficient to confuse Ye Yun’s perception.
Without identifying the true threat, countermeasures proved impossible. Mistaken judgment meant fatal impalement. Only overwhelming force to shatter all projections or lightning-quick evasion could save him.
Though Ye Yun ranked high among servant disciples, dodging this attack seemed nearly impossible.
The fan-conjured sword shadows shrieked through air, each gleaming arc containing lethal force. Even a single strike appeared capable of piercing flesh.
Ye Yun’s expression tightened. His palm strike veered abruptly as strange black and white light flickered in his eyes. Suddenly accelerating multiple times, he sidestepped.
Ten zhang in one step!
The sword shadows whistled past, striking the cliff wall behind with explosive sparks.
Every sword arc proved real – no illusions, all lethal. Duan Chenfeng had condensed sword lights into full physical attacks, defying belief.
"Impossible!" Qu Yiping hissed. "Ten Thousand Swords only manifests full attacks at perfection. Before that, barely one in ten holds substance."
"Brother Qu, I’d have died facing that strike," whispered a red-veined disciple, trembling.
Duan Chenfeng’s dozens of solid sword arcs implied capability for hundreds of projections – unimaginable for Refining Organs stage four.
Duan Chenfeng’s smirk vanished as sword arcs pierced only empty air – Ye Yun’s remnant shadow. The real attack came from his right flank.
A simple punch.
Yet it carried power exceeding Refining Organs stage four’s limits, erupting from Ye Yun’s fist.
Duan Chenfeng finally understood – this despised servant disciple wasn’t weak prey, but a formidable rival.
Whoosh!
Spinning to face Ye Yun, Duan Chenfeng’s right fist now bore pristine Great Sun Boxing Gloves emitting faint radiance.
He punched.
Air within several zhang compressed violently, producing thunderclap reports.
Worldly spiritual energy converged on the glowing gloves, coalescing into midday-sun brilliance within eyeblinks.
A spiritual weapon – clearly superior to Liu Rui’s Black Obsidian Sword in harnessing environmental energy.
"Great Sun Boxing Gloves? Impossible!" Qu Yiping blanched.
BOOM!
Fists collided with valley-shaking force.
Both combatants flew back dozens of zhang, neither gaining advantage.
They stared across the distance, tension thick.
"A replica," Qu Yiping exhaled heavily. "True Great Sun Gloves wouldn’t grace Duan Chenfeng."
"What rank are those gloves?" someone whispered.
"Know the Great Sun Emperor? He who condensed the alchemy pill. His gloves were extraordinary spiritual weapons nearing immortal artifact status. These are mere low-grade copies." Qu Yiping eyed Duan Chenfeng disdainfully.
