Battle of the Martial King

"Ugh, fine, fine, let's go, let's go," Yi Feng waved his hand impatiently. He really couldn't stand the old man's chuunibyo aura and quickly sent him away.

After seeing Old Man Wu off, Yi Feng returned to his desk.

For the time that followed, he was immersed in writing "Zixia Fairy and Supreme Treasure", staying indoors all day.

As autumn fully arrived, the autumn wind outside the streets grew increasingly bleak, but it didn't affect Yi Feng. Even the bone-chilling cold air was no match for the little sun, and Yi Feng feared it not at all.

It seemed that Yi Feng would have a comfortable winter this year.

Zhong Qing remained as taciturn as ever, diligently practicing his fists daily while also busy with the various chores of the Martial Arts Hall.

Doggy Ao Qing, meanwhile, lay by Yi Feng's feet. His internal injuries had long since healed completely. He would occasionally watch Yi Feng practice his punches, and at other times, he would observe the paintings in the front hall of the Martial Arts Hall, his strength improving by leaps and bounds.

One day, Old Ancestor Qingshan came to visit.

When he arrived, he seemed troubled by something. Yi Feng, seeing his state, offered him some words of comfort from his past life, like a motivational speaker.

Yi Feng didn't know if it was helpful, but he knew that Old Ancestor Qingshan left filled with confidence.

The next day.

Yi Feng finished a set of Tai Chi Fist, stretched, and prepared to go to the street to buy some wine. However, he noticed that the streets were much quieter than usual today.

"What's going on?" Yi Feng sat down at the beef stall opposite and asked, "Usually, I see some disciples practicing shopping on the streets. Why is it so deserted today?"

"Master Yi probably doesn't know yet, do you?" The shop assistant, seeing the wine Yi Feng was carrying, generously prepared him two taels of beef and served it. Then, looking at the distant sky, he said, "Today is the day of the duel between Old Ancestor Qingshan and Old Ancestor Xuanwu. All the cultivators have rushed to watch their battle. It's a battle of the highest level, after all, and it concerns the life and death of the two great sects!"

"Oh."

Yi Feng nodded. He really didn't care much about the affairs of cultivators, though he seemed to have heard about this matter before.

After eating two taels of beef and drinking two taels of strong liquor at the shop assistant's place, he returned to the Martial Arts Hall with a warm body and continued to write.

Between the Qingshan Sect and the Black Tortoise Sect lay a natural canyon. In the middle of the canyon was a platform spanning a thousand zhang, known as the Wind and Rain Platform.

On the Wind and Rain Platform.

Old Ancestor Qingshan's eyes were sharp, his entire body exuding power.

Old Ancestor Xuanwu, with his head of white hair, had a cold smile on his face.

And on both sides of the canyon, one side was crowded with disciples of the Black Tortoise Sect, while the other was filled with disciples of the Qingshan Sect. Everyone's face was solemn.

The battle between these two concerned the future prospects of all of them.

"Qingshan, I didn't expect you to actually dare to come?" Old Ancestor Xuanwu said mockingly.

"Hmph!"

Old Ancestor Qingshan let out a cold snort, not saying much.

"Die!"

The two seemed to have no preamble. Old Ancestor Xuanwu revealed his aura and, like lightning, shot into the sky. Then, with an unstoppable palm, he struck towards Old Ancestor Qingshan.

At this moment, the power of the Martial King realm was fully displayed in Old Ancestor Xuanwu's hands.

Before the attack even landed, the rocks beneath Old Ancestor Qingshan's feet were already creaking and cracking, forming spiderweb-like fissures.

Old Ancestor Qingshan refused to be outdone. He unleashed a similar aura, stomped his foot on the ground, creating a large pit, and his lightning-fast body lunged towards the palm strike.

"Bang!"

A sound like the sky collapsing and the earth cracking echoed above the Wind and Rain Platform.

Countless streams of energy spread out in all directions. The disciples watching from afar were involuntarily pushed back by this powerful energy.

The strength of the two Martial King experts was indeed terrifying.

However, the disciples, unable to retreat further, stared at the sky with eyes like pinholes, wanting to know who was stronger in the first clash between the two old ancestors.

They saw, amidst the swirling energy, a figure being forced back hundreds of zhang in the air in a sorry state.

It was Old Ancestor Qingshan.

Seeing this, the faces of the Qingshan Sect members collectively sank.

Among the crowd, Peng Ying's delicate face turned pale as she tightly clenched her jade hands. She had joined the Qingshan Sect some time ago and understood the significance of this battle. Was it possible that after she had finally joined the Qingshan Sect, it was about to fall?

The Black Tortoise Sect, on the other hand, erupted in earth-shattering cheers.

"Hahaha, Qingshan, you truly are a piece of trash. This time next year will be your death anniversary," Old Ancestor Xuanwu roared with laughter in mid-air, his face full of mockery.

Old Ancestor Qingshan's expression turned grim upon hearing this. The gap between them was indeed vast!

"Die!" Old Ancestor Xuanwu clearly knew the principle of striking a fallen dog and did not delay. He ghosted into the air and sent another world-destroying palm strike towards Old Ancestor Qingshan.

This palm strike.

Its power was even greater than the previous one, and its momentum was fiercer.

If Old Ancestor Qingshan only had the strength he displayed just now, facing this palm strike from Old Ancestor Xuanwu, he would either die or be severely wounded.

The palm print, enveloped in vital energy, grew larger and larger in the sky, illuminating half the sky, and also drawing closer and closer to Old Ancestor Qingshan.

However, Old Ancestor Qingshan made no move at all.

Seeing this, many outsiders watching the battle shook their heads. Even more people speculated that Old Ancestor Qingshan knew he was no match and had given up resisting.

The members of the Qingshan Sect, in particular, looked ashen.

With this palm strike, they seemed to already see the destruction of the Qingshan Sect.

When the palm print was less than thirty feet away from Old Ancestor Qingshan, a cold smile suddenly appeared on his face. He then took out a cleaver from his bosom.

"Finally, it's my turn."