The air between them was taut with killing intent, the battlefield around them an afterthought as Cai Feng and the white-robed man locked gazes. The world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of them, their battle the only thing that mattered. The faint flicker of firelight from burning houses cast dancing shadows across the village, illuminating the contrast between them.
Cai Feng, his body rooted like an iron fortress, blade steady in his hands. His essence surged with a golden glow, flickering like a raging sun. The white-robed man, his expression eerily calm despite the intensity of their fight, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. The red dot on his forehead pulsed faintly, his emerald-hued Qi flowing like a whispering serpent around him. Then, they moved.
A sharp gust of wind exploded outward as their figures vanished from where they stood, colliding in the next instant with a deafening clash. Their blades met mid-air, gold against emerald, sending sparks and streaks of Qi into the night. Cai Feng pressed forward, his strikes heavy and relentless, his movements precise. His blade cut through the air with the weight of a thousand battles behind it, each swing meant to kill, not just injure.
But his opponent was no fool. The white-robed man met his blows with fluid grace, his own blade twisting at unnatural angles, redirecting each strike just enough to minimize impact. His footwork was swift, elegant, moving like a phantom just outside the reach of death.
"You fight like a seasoned warrior, so I wonder where you came from?" the white-robed man laughed, his voice calm even as their weapons clashed in rapid succession.
Cai Feng's blade slashed downward, missing by inches as his opponent sidestepped effortlessly. But he did not reply. Words were meaningless now. He had long discarded his past, his rank, his title.
But he was still a warrior. And warriors did not waste breath on battlefields. The white-robed man flicked his fingers, and three emerald orbs materialized in the air, swirling ominously before shooting forward with unnatural speed.
Cai Feng lifted his blade, Essence Qi wrapping around him as he deflected the first two, his body twisting just in time to avoid the third. The energy crashed into the ground behind him, tearing through the earth like a meteor.
Without hesitation, Cai Feng surged forward again. He lowered his stance, shifting his weight, a feint. His opponent took the bait, his blade flickering out to meet the expected attack. But Cai Feng had never intended to strike with his blade. Instead, his free hand shot forward, golden Qi exploding from his palm as he slammed his fist into the white-robed man's ribs.
A wet, sickening crack. The white-robed man stumbled, his body skidding back from the force of the blow, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His left side sagged unnaturally.
"Well… that was unexpected." He coughed, crimson staining his lips. "You broke my ribs."
Cai Feng did not let him recover. With a single step, he was upon him again, his blade a streak of golden light as he struck downward.
The white-robed man's expression flickered, his body moving just fast enough to avoid being cleaved in two. But the golden blade still bit deep into his shoulder, severing muscle and bone. A strangled gasp left his lips, but he did not cry out, instead, he grinned.
"Interesting."
Emerald Qi burst outward from his body in a desperate counterattack, forcing Cai Feng to leap back. The momentary distance allowed him to recompose himself, though his form was visibly faltering. The battle had turned, and he knew it.
The once amused gleam in his eyes was now laced with something else, frustration, perhaps even wariness. Cai Feng raised his blade once more, stepping forward, but then, something unexpected happened. The white-robed man exhaled sharply and suddenly thrust his palm against his own chest, sending a controlled surge of Qi through his injured body. Immediately, his breathing steadied.
His gaze lifted, sharp and assessing. Cai Feng stopped in his tracks. Something was wrong. The air around the white-robed man shifted, a pulse of energy so faint, so controlled, that it was almost imperceptible.
Then, without warning,
He vanished. Not by speed. Not by some tricks. He simply ceased to be there. Cai Feng's grip on his blade tightened, his senses sharpening as he braced for the inevitable.
He did not have to wait long. The attack came from behind. Instinct alone saved him, his body twisting just in time, blade whipping upward to meet the incoming strike. The white-robed man had reappeared without a sound, his own blade inches from piercing through Cai Feng's back.
The two weapons clashed in midair, the force behind them sending another wave of Qi rippling through the battlefield. Cai Feng pushed forward, forcing his opponent back. Their movements blurred together, a whirlwind of steel and energy, neither gaining ground, neither backing down.
But then,
Cai Feng saw it. A tiny gap in his opponent's stance. A subtle, minuscule weakness. His injuries were slowing him down, and Cai Feng would not waste the opportunity. He moved.
Feint. Step. Pivot. Strike.
A perfectly calculated sequence, executed with the precision of a master.
His blade sliced through the air, finding its mark, The white-robed man's throat. A single clean motion.
The body stilled.
Then collapsed.
Silence.
For a moment, Cai Feng simply stood there, watching as the life drained from his opponent's eyes. The red dot on his forehead flickered, then dimmed. And just like that, he was dead. Cai Feng exhaled slowly, his blade still dripping with blood. His body ached, his wounds burning, but he did not falter. He had won.
But there was no time to rest. His gaze lifted back to the battlefield, where the militia and the remaining black-clothed attackers still fought. The fight was not over, and until every last enemy was dealt with, he would not allow himself to fall.
---
The battle raged on, but something had shifted.
Feiyin felt it before he saw it. A pulse in the air, a sharp tremor in the frequencies around him, as if something heavy had just dropped into the flow of the world. A disturbance, one that sent a shudder through the very fabric of the battlefield.
Then, a single moment later, he saw it. A figure moved through the chaos like a specter, his long, curved blade streaked with crimson, his gray eyes cold as the night itself. Cai Feng had returned.
The pressure he exuded was undeniable, an overwhelming presence that made even the most hardened militia members stiffen, their bodies instinctively reacting to his killing aura. But it was the enemy that truly froze. The black-clothed attackers who remained stumbled back, some hesitating, their eyes darting toward their fallen comrades. They had not expected this.
Feiyin, despite the burning exhaustion in his limbs, felt something deep inside him steady at the sight of his father. Cai Feng wasted no time. His blade flickered, disappearing and reappearing mid-motion as he moved through the battlefield like a storm given form.
He cut down two opponents in an instant, their bodies collapsing before they even realized they had died.
The militia, sensing the shift in momentum, surged forward.
Jiang Hu let out a roar, his saber crashing against an opponent's weapon with such force that the enemy's arms buckled under the impact. He followed up with a brutal strike to the ribs, the crack audible even over the din of battle.
Sun Ke, still recovering from his earlier injury, moved with measured strikes, not as aggressive as before but just as lethal. He darted between two combatants, slicing one across the thigh before finishing him with a precise stab.
Feiyin himself felt the change in his body, his muscles no longer trembling from his first kill. The adrenaline had settled, and now, only sharp awareness remained.
He sidestepped an enemy's downward strike, slipping past the attack and driving his own blade into the unguarded flank. The black-clothed man gasped, eyes wide in shock, before slumping forward.
Dead.
Another one down.
But Feiyin had no time to dwell on it. The remaining enemies were now fully retreating, their coordination collapsing under the relentless militia counterattack. Cai Feng saw this, and did not let them go.
His blade flickered once more, his movement precise, calculated. A single sweeping arc, and three more enemies fell, their bodies collapsing into the bloodied dirt. It was over.
The last few enemies were quickly subdued, weapons kicked away, their bodies pinned to the ground by militia members. Breathing heavily, Feiyin surveyed the aftermath, his chest rising and falling with each steadying breath.
He glanced at Sun Ke, who was leaning on his sword for support, his face smeared with sweat and dirt. Their eyes met, and without a word, Sun Ke grinned weakly. They had survived.
But something felt wrong. Jiang Hu, standing over one of the captured enemies, scowled. "Strip them of their weapons and secure them," he ordered, his voice still edged with battle tension.
The militia complied, binding the wrists of the black-clothed men, keeping a close eye on them. Cai Feng, who had been cleaning his blade with a piece of cloth, finally stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"We'll start with you," he said, his voice steady but firm, his eyes locking onto one of the captured men.
The man, still panting heavily from exertion, merely lifted his head.
His expression was… calm.
Too calm. As if he completely gave up. And as he opened his mouth to speak, Feiyin's breath hitched.
Something was wrong.
Then, before anyone could react, The captured man bit down hard, his expression painful. Then, blood erupted from his lips, his body convulsing violently as he dropped dead.
Is it poison?
Cai Feng's eyes narrowed immediately, his grip on his blade tightening. "Stop them!"
But it was too late.
The other captives followed suit, each of them convulsing before collapsing, lifeless.
A heavy silence descended over the battlefield. Feiyin's stomach twisted. They had chosen death over capture.
Jiang Hu cursed under his breath, his expression grim. "Cowards," he spat, kicking the lifeless body nearest to him.
Cai Feng, however, remained silent, his eyes fixed on the fallen enemies, his mind clearly racing.