Blessings of the Mortal World

Feng Ying shuddered in alarm. His body instinctively shifted, but that wisp of incomparably pure golden light had already reached him in an instant.

He could only circulate a secret technique. Dense wind-and-lightning power surged around him, faintly forming a shield of azure and blue wind-and-lightning spiritual energy around his body. Yet the golden light pierced through it. Though layer upon layer of wind-and-lightning power wore it down, one streak of golden light still struck his body, sending him flying.

Yet after landing, Feng Ying was uninjured. Layers of peculiar scales faintly emerged over his skin, wind and lightning roiling around them. He stared at the lingering golden mark, slight astonishment flickering in his eyes.

"This sharp power?"

He caught the scent of innate qi within it.

The innate essence within his opponent's body appeared extraordinarily remarkable, to the point that it had caused his magical power to undergo such a transformation so early.

Just as he was about to rise, a figure came swooping down through the air from above. Two foot-long white beams shot from the depths of its eyes, locking onto him.

Soul-Calming Spirit-Severing Technique?

Feng Ying could not help but laugh inwardly. Qingli was only asking for trouble by using this technique against him.

After all, he himself had taught Qingli this technique.

A soul-carving blade likewise emerged in the depths of his eyes, instantly transforming into two white beams that met the two incoming beams.

Rumble!!

At the instant they collided, the white radiance in Feng Ying's eyes shattered. The two white beams fired by Yang Huai smashed through the Soul-Calming Spirit-Severing Technique he had unleashed like bamboo before a blade, locking onto his soul and slashing down in an instant.

Feng Ying's eyes widened, unable to conceal his shock. As he endured the soul-wrenching pain of the Soul-Calming Spirit-Cleaving Technique collapsing, an azure-blue phantom appeared deep within his sea of consciousness. It vaguely took the majestic form of a deity with a dragon's head, human body, and serpent's tail. Strands of wind and lightning qi swirled before it, forming a barrier that blocked the two white beams.

But Yang Huai took the opportunity to descend from above, condensing a golden spear in his hand and laying it across Feng Ying's neck.

It had all happened with incredible speed.

Feeling the golden light pressed against his neck, Feng Ying's eyes held a trace of embarrassment and silence. He opened his mouth.

"I..."

This outcome had truly exceeded his expectations. It was almost unbelievable.

Yet Yang Huai casually dispersed the golden spear formed from his magical power and said with a smile,

"Let's call it a draw. I know you still have powerful weapons you haven't brought out. If you had used them, perhaps I would have been the one to lose!"

With that, he turned and prepared to leave the spell-testing platform. Still, deep down, he felt a measure of delight.

It seemed the suffering he had endured had not been for nothing.

Being killed hundreds of times by that Asura fiend, breaking through his limits again and again in desperate straits—it had not been in vain.

Behind him, Feng Ying watched Yang Huai's departing figure. After a moment, his voice rang out.

"Qingli... Senior Brother, a loss is a loss. On a dueling platform, one can speak of carelessness, but in a life-and-death battle, who would bother arguing such things with me?"

"From this day onward, you are my senior brother!"

Hearing this, Yang Huai paused. A faint smile appeared on his face as he waved at Feng Ying, then leaped down from the spell-testing platform.

At the head of the platform, the core Daoist youths of Glory Hall exchanged looks.

"Junior Brother Feng actually lost?"

The green-clad young woman Qing Xian also looked at Yang Huai's retreating figure in surprise, faint astonishment shining in her eyes.

In her view, Feng Ying should not have lost. Whether in the depth of his magical power or the secret techniques he had mastered, Feng Ying surpassed his opponent.

Daoist Yuanlu watched Yang Huai leave with great interest. Seeing Qing Xian's expression, he said softly,

"Junior Brother Feng underestimated his opponent. If he had not clashed with Junior Brother Qingli using the Soul-Calming Spirit-Severing Technique, if he had directly used Fuxi Divine Vision to protect his soul and contend with his opponent, it would not have taken long for Junior Brother Qingli to lose the ability to resist!"

He had struck at the heart of the matter.

At that moment, Feng Ying also felt an indescribable feeling welling up within him.

He himself had taught Qingli the Soul-Calming Spirit-Severing Technique. Qingli had practiced it for far less time than he had, yet its power now faintly surpassed his own. Had that collision not shaken his soul, he would not have lost his footing in a single move and suffered total defeat.

Still, he knew that the core of the Soul-Calming Spirit-Severing Technique was an intent of slaughter. Qingli had never left the Daoist temple, so how could he have honed such an intent? But Feng Ying was a clever man. In an instant, a faint suspicion surfaced in his mind.

"Slaughter Hall!"

A bitter smile touched his lips. The Daoist masters of the kitchens had likely lent a hand behind the scenes as well.

"Such are the times, such is fate!"

At this moment, Yuanlu and several other Daoist youths entered from outside the arena. Seeing them, Feng Ying cupped his hands and said,

"This battle has damaged Glory Hall's prestige through this junior's failings. I have troubled Senior Brother Yuanlu and everyone else!"

Yuanlu's gaze remained calm as he replied indifferently, "It is nothing. Junior Brother Qingli spoke well just now. You did not use some of the Wind Clan's killing techniques in this battle. Otherwise, he might not necessarily have won!"

After a brief pause, he patted Feng Ying's shoulder.

"As far as I know, you and Junior Brother Qingli are on good terms. When you have the time, invite him to visit our Glory Hall!"

Feng Ying nodded.

"Alright!"

He knew Yuanlu had likely developed some intention of recruiting Qingli. Yuanlu had always been competing for a core position within the temple and had tirelessly sought to draw Daoist youths to his side. Qingli's displayed innate talent was not weak, so Yuanlu had naturally taken an interest in him.

As far as the eye could see, Feng Ying also spotted many Daoist youths whispering among themselves, including quite a few renowned prodigies. Several of them belonged to camps aligned with Yuanlu's rivals.

At the Yang Family Hunting Grounds, Yang Huai opened his eyes the next day, bloodshot veins visible within them.

Between his upside-down schedule of relentless competition and being killed hundreds of times within the Spirit-Slaying Jade Disc—while constantly adjusting his condition to deal with the Asura fiend's sudden attacks—he truly felt utterly exhausted in body and spirit.

Yuan Xiuxiu entered the room at that moment. She glanced at Yang Huai in slight surprise. This time, when Yang Huai woke, he seemed exceptionally weary. Yet nothing had happened during the night, and she had not done anything else...

So she said,

"Yang Huai, sleep a little longer. Father and Mother are fine for now. I'll look after things for you!"

"Then I'll trouble you, my wife!"

Yang Huai nodded slightly, then immediately pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep. He truly felt mentally drained and soon fell into a deep slumber.

A moment later, Mother Yang's complaining voice drifted in from the little courtyard.

"Young people may be fond of pleasure, but you still need to know moderation. Xiuxiu, you must also cherish A-Da's health!"

"Mother..."

In the courtyard, Yuan Xiuxiu's lovely face flushed slightly.

Yet inwardly, she felt terribly wronged.

Mother Yang said no more. She looked at an old hen nearby that was clucking as it searched for a nesting place, strode over to seize it, and handed it to Yuan Xiuxiu.

"Alright, kill this old hen and make something nourishing for A-Da. Mm, add in those herbs you dug up too!"

"Don't let Huan'er, A-Yuan, or A-Qing see this soup. Let A-Da drink it all by himself!"

Yuan Xiuxiu nodded and went off to the side.

Inside the donkey shed nearby, the old donkey's ears stood straight up. Hearing those words, it was furious, kicking wildly with its hooves and braying indignantly.

That afternoon, Yang Huai was awakened by the rich fragrance of chicken soup from the kitchen. His nose twitched as he opened his eyes. He rolled out of his bed, got dressed, and opened the door. There, beneath the jujube tree, Yuan Xiuxiu was gently fanning a palm-leaf fan as she slow-simmered chicken soup in an earthen pot. The air was also filled with the scent of medicinal herbs.

The beauty before him was already a feast for the eyes, and coupled with the tempting aroma of chicken soup, an immense sense of contentment rose within Yang Huai's heart.

With life like this, what more could a man ask for?

"Yang Lang, you're awake?"

Seeing this, Yuan Xiuxiu rose and took out a porcelain bowl. She served Yang Huai a bowl of clear, bright chicken soup, adding several pieces of chicken that gave off a rich fragrance. Just then, she suddenly smiled.

"Huan is quite fortunate to have such a good mouth!"

Before Yang Huai had even taken more than a few bites, Yang Huan came noisily running back into the courtyard from outside.

"Brother, Sister-in-law, wonderful news, wonderful news!!"

But the moment he entered the courtyard and caught the scent of chicken soup in the air, he could not take his eyes off it!