Feng Yun: I'm Back! Who Else?

Feng Yun stepped onto the ring.

It was only a few steps from below the stage to the top, but hundreds of gazes across the entire venue nailed themselves to him.

The sect leader's son, unseen for three years, seemed like a completely different person in bearing.

Feng Lie stood at the other end of the ring. The shock on his face lasted only three seconds before he forcibly suppressed it.

In its place came a cold sneer.

"Feng Yun, you finally decided to come back?"

"I thought after running wild outside for three years, you'd even forgotten which way the family gates opened."

Feng Yun glanced at him, his expression so calm it hardly seemed as if he were listening to a provocation.

"You talk too much."

He raised his hand, and the Green Phoenix Sword pulled free from the stone tiles in the center of the stage, then rested casually in his grip.

"Let's talk after the fight."

Feng Lie's expression instantly darkened.

What he hated most was that attitude—the attitude of not taking him seriously.

It had been like this three years ago.

Three years later, it was still the same!

"Fine!"

Feng Lie roared, releasing his martial soul—the Wind Sword!

A sword-shaped martial soul with a pale blue sheen solidified in his palm, and a yellow hundred-year soul ring lit up beneath his feet.

"Take this! Wind-Splitting Slash!"

A dense burst of blue-white sword energy surged from the Wind Sword, carrying a sharp whistling sound as it cleaved straight toward Feng Yun's face.

This strike was fast and ruthless.

The fruits of Feng Lie's three years of bitter training were all contained in this one sword.

Yet Feng Yun did not even move his feet to dodge.

He casually swung the Green Phoenix Sword in his hand.

A green wind blade swept out from the sword, meeting the Wind-Splitting Slash at an unhurried pace.

"Pfft—!"

The Wind-Splitting Slash was split in two down the middle by the wind blade.

The remaining sword energy exploded to both sides, shattering several of the ring's floor tiles.

But that wind blade did not lose momentum, heading straight for Feng Lie.

"What?!"

Feng Lie's pupils shrank sharply, and he instinctively raised his sword to block.

But the instant the wind blade struck the Wind Sword, a force far beyond what he could withstand poured along the blade and into both his arms.

The webbing between his thumb and forefinger burst open!

The Wind Sword flew from his grip!

Immediately after, the residual force of the wind blade slammed into his chest.

Bang!

Feng Lie's entire body flew backward, flipping twice in midair before crashing heavily onto the edge of the ring. He rolled another half turn before finally stopping.

One sword!

From striking to the end, Feng Yun had used only one sword.

He had not even released a soul ring.

The air over the Martial Arts Plaza froze for a full three seconds.

Then it exploded with a buzz, and discussion swept over the place like a storm.

"O-one sword?"

"He didn't even use a soul ring?!"

"Feng Lie is a sixteen-rank soul master at nine years old! And he was sent flying just like that?"

On the high platform.

Feng Xiao shot to his feet, his face so livid it had turned purple.

The son he was so proud of had been swept away by a single sword in full view of everyone, without even the right to fight back!

On the other side.

Feng Bailong remained seated, expressionless.

But the almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed how he felt in that moment.

"This..."

Duke Long's brows knitted together.

Serpent Granny's gaze darkened.

Feng Yun, that innate level-three cripple, seemed to have grown far beyond everyone's expectations.

"He... How is that possible..."

Meng Yiran looked at the figure onstage calmly sheathing his sword and clenched her fists.

She admitted that the Feng Yun of today was indeed no longer that innate level-three cripple.

But she was a rank-twenty-one two-ring Grand Soul Master!

She repeated it silently in her heart.

No matter how strong he was, there was no way he could be a Grand Soul Master.

Absolutely impossible!

Feng Lie struggled up from the ground, his face smeared with dirt.

He looked up at Feng Yun and opened his mouth, wanting to say something, only to find that he could not squeeze out a single word.

The positions from three years ago had been completely reversed.

He felt as if a vast chasm now lay between him and Feng Yun!

The once-proud Feng Lie's eyes turned hollow.

No one had expected that the grand, fervent three-year agreement would end in such a hasty fashion.

Feng Yun did not look at him again.

He turned around, his calm gaze sweeping over the dense crowd of young disciples below the stage.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes met his—some shocked, some fearful, some unwilling, some unconvinced.

Feng Yun slowly spoke. "Who else?"

Three words.

The Martial Arts Plaza fell quiet for a moment.

"I'll do it!"

An eleven-year-old disciple, his face full of defiance, leapt onto the arena.

And yet, Feng Yun still neither dodged nor did much else. He defeated him with a single sword strike!

"I'll go too!"

Another one came up, and was sent flying with one sword strike.

Feng Yun found it a little dull. "You can all come at me together."

"Too arrogant! Let's go together!"

Three people attacked at the same time.

Again, one sword strike each, three strikes, all defeated.

Feng Yun stood in the center of the arena, the Green Phoenix Sword held at his side, his posture so casual he hardly seemed to be fighting.

The process was more or less the same for every opponent who stepped onto the stage.

Release their martial soul, reveal their soul rings, attack with all their strength.

Then they were cleanly swept off the stage by a blade of wind.

No suspense, no twists, no surprises at all.

Five, ten, twenty, thirty...

In less than fifteen minutes, all forty challengers had been defeated.

Feng Yun never once released his soul rings.

Even his expression barely changed.

The Martial Arts Plaza's initial defiance and commotion gradually turned into a deathly silence.

"..."

No one shouted "I'll do it" again.

Because everyone had understood one fact.

It was not that Feng Lie was too weak. It was that Feng Yun was too strong!

So strong that everyone in their generation combined still would not be enough for him to fight.

On the high platform, Dragon Duke's expression grew darker and darker.

Snake Granny tapped her fingers on her knee again and again, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Forty matches, all won by crushing their opponents with a sword.

They knew Feng Yun's martial soul was wind, yet they had never seen him use any ability besides wind blades.

This boy's strength had probably already far surpassed Yiran's.

"Is there no one else?"

No one else on the arena stage stepped up to fight.

Feng Yun swept his gaze around.

Every member of the younger generation lowered their head in unwillingness.

Feng Yun withdrew his gaze and turned toward the guest seats.

His eyes passed over Dragon Duke and Snake Granny, landing on the young girl clenching her fists.

Meng Yiran.

After three years apart, that little nine-year-old girl from back then had already grown into a delicate-looking young girl.

Feng Yun, however, had no intention of admiring her.

"Meng Yiran, it's time to fulfill the agreement from three years ago."

Meng Yiran bit her lip.

Dragon Duke frowned slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

But Meng Yiran had already stood up.

"Hmph, you think I'm afraid of you?"

Meng Yiran stepped onto the stage.

She revealed her martial soul, the Snake-Head Staff!

Two yellow hundred-year soul rings lit up beneath her feet.

A rank twenty-one Soul Grandmaster.

Among those her age, this rank could already be considered quite good—she counted as a little genius.

Meng Yiran activated her second soul skill, Snake Body!

Her body softened unbelievably as she attacked.

Her upper body bent back nearly ninety degrees, dodging a possible line of counterattack. Her movements were so smooth they seemed almost free of the limits of human bones.

Her whole body charged toward Feng Yun like a snake.

Feng Yun had just been about to raise his sword.

The snake mouth on Meng Yiran's Snake-Head Staff suddenly opened.

It spat out several snake-shaped blade shadows glowing with eerie green poison light, attacking Feng Yun from multiple angles.

But Feng Yun still did not release his soul rings.

He casually slashed out with his first strike.

Clang!

A wind blade cut across.

It split all the snake blades straight down the middle, sending eerie green energy splashing everywhere, yet none of it could get close to him.

The second strike!

The sword turned, and a wind blade skimmed along the ground, heading straight for Meng Yiran's feet.

"!!!"

Meng Yiran barely dodged it with Snake Body's flexibility, but her center of gravity was already completely thrown off.

The third strike.

Feng Yun stepped forward, sweeping the Green Phoenix Sword out sideways. A sharp wind blade swept past Meng Yiran.

Crack!

Her soul power collapsed into chaos.

The sword wind sent her flying, until she staggered and dropped to one knee.

Three strikes, and it was over!

"I... I lost..."

Meng Yiran knelt on the arena stage, gasping for breath.

She looked up at the sword-wielding young man standing before her, her eyes red, her lips trembling.

She knew she had lost, lost utterly and completely.

She could not even get close to Feng Yun.

Just how strong was he?!

Feng Yun sheathed his sword and looked at her without contempt or pity in his eyes.

Only calm.

He turned to the entire crowd, his voice clear and resonant.

"Three years ago, Meng Yiran and I made a pact. Three years later, we would fight again, and the loser would be the one to break off the engagement."

"Today, three strikes were made, and the victor has been decided."

"I, Feng Yun, formally break off my engagement with Meng Yiran."

As his words fell, the entire crowd erupted.

Dragon Duke let out a long sigh and rose to his feet.

Snake Granny's face was silent and grim, but in the end, she did not lash out.

The wager had been made in front of everyone.

A loss was a loss. To go back on it would be to destroy their own reputation.

"Yiran, let's go," Dragon Duke said in a deep voice.

Meng Yiran stood up from the arena and silently patted the dust from her knees.

She took one last look at Feng Yun.

There was no hatred in those reddened eyes, only a stubborn little flame.

"Feng Yun."

"I will surpass you!"

Feng Yun merely gave a polite nod in response, not taking it too much to heart.

"Feng Yun wins first place in the sect tournament!"

When those words came from Zhang Koukou's mouth, they even sounded somewhat ironic.

Because this had not been a competition at all, but a one-sided crushing defeat.

Feng Xiao left with an ashen face and a flick of his sleeve, without saying a word.

The disciples of the Great Elder's faction slunk away dejectedly, not even daring to raise their heads.

And those disciples who had just been questioning whether "the sect master's son was nothing special" now looked at Feng Yun with pure awe instead of doubt.

Feng Bailong slowly walked down the stone steps to Feng Yun.

Father and son looked at each other.

In Feng Bailong's gaze were relief, pride, heartache, and a thousand unspoken words.

But in the end, he said only four words: "It's good you're back."

Feng Yun's nose stung slightly.

But he did not get sentimental.

He only smiled and replied, "Dad, I'm back."