The Three-Year Period Has Arrived, Green Phoenix Returns to the Nest

Feng Yun stepped down from the soul fighting platform.

In his hand, there was now a heavy golden badge—the Gold Soul Fighting Badge.

One of the honors of the Great Soul Fighting Arena.

He weighed the badge in his hand, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly.

It had a bit of weight to it, at least.

"Yun'er."

Suddenly, Yun Yun's voice sounded by his ear.

"Mm?"

"Three years are up."

Feng Yun's steps abruptly halted.

Three years.

From the time he left the Wind Sword Sect and entered the Soul Hunting Forest to cultivate, to following Yun Yun as they moved through Heaven Dou City, tempering himself in the blood and fire of the Great Soul Fighting Arena.

A full three years.

That promise with Meng Yiran, that wager with Feng Lie—every memory surged into his mind at this moment.

Feng Yun slowly raised his head.

Beneath the mask, his eyes were bright and resolute.

"Master."

"It's time for me to go back."

The Wind Sword Sect.

Today, the sect was ten times livelier than usual.

On the Martial Arts Plaza, banners snapped in the wind, and hundreds of disciples stood in neat formation.

The sect master and elders sat upright on the high platform, their gazes assessing the eager young faces below.

The sect competition for the younger generation, held once every three years—the group for disciples aged twelve and under—officially began.

To the Wind Sword Sect, this was a major event to test the sect's foundation and select future pillars.

And this year's competition had a few special guests as well.

On the side seats of the high platform, an elderly couple sat shoulder to shoulder.

Duke Long and Granny Snake.

Even on Douluo Continent, they could be considered figures of some status.

And beside them sat a young girl.

Twelve years old, with delicate features, lively eyes, and hair that fluttered slightly in the wind.

Meng Yiran.

Three years ago, she and that boy named Feng Yun had made an agreement: after three years, one battle would decide who had the initiative to return the goods.

Now that the three-year deadline had arrived, she had come to fulfill the appointment.

Only...

Her gaze swept over the Martial Arts Plaza again and again, yet she still could not find that familiar figure.

"Grandpa, that Feng Yun doesn't seem to be here."

Meng Yiran said it in a low voice, a trace of displeasure hidden in her tone.

Granny Snake snorted coldly. "He probably knew he couldn't beat you and ran off."

Duke Long did not say anything. He merely looked toward the sect master's seat with a deep gaze.

There, Feng Bailong sat upright and composed, his face expressionless.

But those who knew him could all tell that the aura of this Wind Sword Sect master was unusually heavy today.

"Sect Master."

From the other side of the high platform, an aged yet vigorous voice rang out.

The Great Elder, Feng Xiao, smilingly stroked his beard. His gaze swept once around the martial arts field, and his tone was neither salty nor bland.

"This old man remembers that three years ago, the sect master personally took your esteemed son out for training."

"You vowed that he would be reborn and make his name resound through the sect."

"Yet now the sect competition has already begun, and your esteemed son is still nowhere to be seen?"

"Could it be that he was so absorbed in training that he even forgot the date?"

His words were polite, but the barb struck with precision.

The expressions of the elders around him turned subtle, and their gazes all shifted toward Feng Bailong.

Feng Bailong's face darkened slightly.

He did not respond to Feng Xiao's mockery.

It was not that he did not want to answer. He had no answer to give.

Because even he did not know where Feng Yun was at this moment.

Three years ago, he had sent Feng Yun into the Soul Hunting Forest on the outskirts of the Star Dou Forest for training.

After that, he had gone to check several times, and everything in the Soul Hunting Forest had been as usual.

Now that Feng Yun had not appeared, an ominous premonition began spreading through his heart.

Could it be... that Yun'er had met with disaster?

Feng Bailong's fists clenched inside his sleeves.

His face remained calm and unruffled, but inside, unspeakable anxiety and pain churned violently.

He was the sect master.

But even more than that, he was a father.

The matchups for the sect tournament were soon announced.

When the group "Feng Yun VS Feng Lie" appeared prominently on the list, every gaze in the arena focused on it.

Everyone in the sect knew about the wager from three years ago.

The duel between the sect master's son and the Great Elder's son should have been the greatest highlight of today's tournament.

However, Feng Yun's waiting area was completely empty.

No one was there.

Whispers began rising from below the stage.

"Feng Yun still hasn't come?"

"He still hasn't shown up at a time like this. Don't tell me he's too scared to come?"

"A wager made three years ago, and now he's fleeing at the last moment?"

The discussions grew louder and harsher.

Feng Bailong's face turned ashen to the extreme.

And on the arena stage, Feng Lie had already gone up ahead of time.

The twelve-year-old boy stood tall and straight, his features handsome, his brows filled with undisguised pride and arrogance.

He looked around, the corner of his mouth curving into a mocking smile.

"Feng Yun?"

"Ha—"

"Three years ago, on this very arena, he swore an oath and made a wager with me."

"He said that three years later, he'd make me regret it."

"And the result?"

"Three years are up. Where is he?"

Feng Lie crossed his arms and swept a condescending glance toward the sect master's seat.

"Looks like the sect master's son is nothing special after all."

"What right does a coward who doesn't even dare show up for a wager have to be mentioned in the same breath as me, Feng Lie?"

The moment he said this, the entire arena burst into an uproar.

Feng Xiao sat on the high platform, smiling without a word, a trace of smugness flashing in his eyes.

Feng Bailong's face was ashen, his fists clenched tight.

But he could not refute it.

Because Feng Yun truly had not come.

Meng Yiran and Dragon Duke and Snake Granny also looked as though they were watching a good show.

The referee walked onto the arena stage.

He looked around, waited a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Final roll call for contestant Feng Yun—"

"Feng Yun!"

"..."

The training field was utterly silent. No one answered.

Feng Lie's smile widened.

The referee sighed and raised his right hand.

"Feng Yun has not arrived. This match is hereby—"

He did not finish.

A streak of green light split the sky from the horizon.

"Buzz!"

A piercing sword hum suddenly rang through the entire Martial Arts Plaza, so sharp that everyone's eardrums trembled.

Everyone instinctively looked up.

They saw a green sword beam, carrying a howling wind, plunge straight down from the sky.

"Clang!"

The long green sword planted itself precisely in the center of the arena, its blade sinking three inches into the stone tiles, its hilt-end vibrating with a low hum.

With the sword as the boundary, a web of fine cracks spread outward from the point of impact.

The entire venue fell deathly silent.

Feng Lie's smile froze on his face.

A figure descended.

He wore a fitted green outfit, stood tall and straight, carried a sword at his waist, and walked with an unhurried pace.

He was also wearing a blue bird mask.

Everyone's gaze was drawn to this figure who had appeared out of nowhere.

Feng Bailong shot to his feet, staring fixedly at the newcomer.

That build!

That gait!

His hands were trembling.

The newcomer slowly raised a hand and removed the mask.

Beneath the mask was a young, sharp-featured face.

The childish cheeks that had still carried baby fat when he left three years ago had now been replaced by clean, well-defined contours.

His brows and eyes were handsome, his gaze deep and keen, and a faint smile hung at the corner of his mouth.

He was no longer a child.

He was a swordsman who had come riding a sword.

He lifted his head, his gaze sweeping across the entire venue.

It passed over the dumbstruck Feng Lie, over Feng Xiao whose expression had changed drastically, over Meng Yiran who was utterly stunned...

In the end, it landed on the man on the high platform who had already risen to his feet, his lips trembling slightly.

Feng Bailong.

His father.

The corner of Feng Yun's mouth curved.

"The three-year term is up!"

"I, Feng Yun, have returned."

The entire venue erupted.