LaughYeAmer
patreon
Chapter 84: Fight and Die
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 09:18:14 +0000 UTC“I am Bihui,” the foreign cultivator greeted politely. “Young Master of the Howling Meadows Sect.”
Feng frowned. “I have not heard of your Sect.”
The Young Master was taught all the names of the monasteries that populate the Outer Northern Provinces of the Empire. He had memorised the names of dozens upon dozens of Sects, Clans and Divine Arts, such that he would be well-informed when approaching any situation relating to foreign cultivators.
That he did not recognise the ‘Howling Meadows Sect’ was instantly cause for concern.
Bihui smiled. “That is understandable. After all, I did not grow up living in the same putrid air as you. That I must lower myself to breathe in the same shit as peasant lovers gives me no small amount of offence.”
The sudden vulgarness in his words caught Feng off guard, for the foreign Young Master’s voice still carried the calm air of unhurried politeness. The pressure in the air shifted until it nearly brought Feng to his knees. Elder Jun grabbed hold of him and kept him from stumbling.
“I have come to grace you with my presence, Young Master Feng, though I must say you are not deserving of it,” Bihui continued, his tone undeniably genteel. The pressure mounted. Feng felt his lungs begin to collapse. “For the insults your Fiancée gave my brother in rejecting his general proposal, I have come to enact revenge in his place. Be honoured. You will die by my hand.”
Though Feng kept a calm face, there was no holding back the rising panic in his throat. Feng was a competent battler, leagues above the average within his Realm.
But no amount of skill is going to make up for an entire realm of cultivation difference. His opponent this time was also no mere wanderer or disgraced second heir.
A Young Master. A cultivator born from noble Clan lineage and whose growth was fuelled by the resources of an entire Sect. Even disregarding his standing, Bihui’s martial skills were likely a match for any in his Realm.
If it came to a fight, Feng’s defeat was a certainty. Anyone with eyes could see that.
Yet, someone did not agree.
“You give up too easily, my foolish god. Advantageous as your opponent’s cultivation might be, you are not without tricks of your own.”
“No manner of tricks will make up for this difference in standing,” Feng hissed in his head. “Especially with his lineage.”
“There are a few, and you are privy to some of them. Or need I remind you of the incident in the swamp once more?”
Feng blinked. “You cannot possibly mean…”
“I do not recognise this duel,” Elder Jun sharply barked, interrupting the Young Master’s thoughts. His qi raged, providing a buffer around Feng such that the Young Master might breathe again. “As the arena master, you are not allowed to battle the Young Master. Leave now, or face the judgment of the Beheaded Phoenix Sect.”
The foreign Young Master laughed. His voice rang like pealing bells. “And why would I care for the judgment of worms from the Outer Provinces?”
He called them ‘from the Outer Provinces’... Feng felt his blood freeze. “You… You are from the Inner Provinces?”
For an Inner Province Young Master to visit the Outer Province… Such a thing was almost unprecedented, even for an event as monumental as Feng’s wedding. The cultivators of the Inner Provinces disdain the Outer Provinces with a burning passion.
Feng had thought the man was simply from a far-flung Outer Sect. For a Young Master of the Inner Provinces to come all the way out here to fulfil a blood feud… Just what did Lianshi do?
“Your Young Master is a little slow, isn’t he?” Bihui smiled serenely at Elder Jun. “Let me free your Sect from the burden of his stupidity. You may thank me later with gifts and a celebration. I will have to refuse, of course. I doubt anything you can offer will be worth the sole of my boot. But to offer is your right… and your due.”
“You court death!” Elder Jun snarled. “Young Master from an Inner Sect you might be, do you think you can sprout such insults and get away with it?”
Bihui shrugged. “And who will stop me? You?”
[Arts of the Howling Meadow — Yesteryear’s Ululating Wails]
Elder Jun staggered. He fell to his knees, coughing blood. The protection of his aura faltered and died.
Feng did not see anything; hear anything. He felt the activation of the Divine Art but did not perceive its effects. There was no time to ponder as the crushing weight of the foreign Young Master’s aura descended upon him in full.
Feng looked around, struggling to keep his head up. The audience was silent. Or rather, there was no sound coming from them at all. Feng could hear nothing.
Nothing at all… save for a curious hum in his head.
“It is not a Domain. His Dao is too undeveloped for that. But for a Divine Art to manifest a localised delimited zone… Interesting. And rather rare. I had not thought the Funereal Whirlwinds was such a generous god. Though perhaps it comes as little surprise. In life, she was one of the few deities that genuinely cared for humanity.”
“If you could… please give… actionable advice instead,” Feng choked out.
Bihui frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Feng ignored him. The voice in his head sighed.
“I’m happy you are relying on me more, but there isn’t anything I could really advise you to do here. Except, perhaps… be ready.”
What kind of advice is that? Feng thought angrily, his mouth too numb to even speak.
“The actionable kind. Right in a moment.”
Feng sighed, even as blood pooled in his lungs. The fear in his throat ebbed at her reassurance, however.
It seemed a part of him still trusted her with his life.
The other Young Master casually walked over. Elder Jun struggled to stand, but his body refused to respond. Step by step, Feng watched death approach until its shadow loomed over him.
“Just what exactly does she see in you?” Bihui murmured perplexedly. His smile was still pleasant, but his gaze carried disgust. “To refuse our offer for the likes of you… Perhaps Lady Chen is simply too dim to differentiate gold from shit. It would fit the intelligence expected for a whore her age.”
The pleasant undertone of his voice never changed, even with the vitriol with which he spoke.
“No matter, it’s better this way.” The man shook his head. “My brother is too good for a worm of the Outer Provinces anyway. And after we gave her a position as third wife instead of a concubine! Truly, the audacity of you ingrates is infuriating! Even stupidity should have its limits!”
Bihui sighed. “And that reminds me: I will have to deal with your Fiancée after this as well. To stain more of the likes of your worthless blood on my hands… Still, rejoice, Young Master Feng! Do not look so sour. You may resume your wedding in the afterlife. Never let it be said that Bihui of the Howling Meadows does not appreciate the fineries of romance.”
The man raised his hand. By all accounts, Feng should be begging for his life — or at least carry the fear of death on his face. Yet, the youth was calm. Brows furrowed, lips in a tight line, he did not carry the expression of one waiting to die.
Rather, it carried anticipation.
For that, Bihui hesitated.
And then, at that moment of hesitation — his hand raised and attention weak — something from outside the arena struck the foreign Young Master’s arm.
It was a small thing; no weapon or thrown artefact of power was this, but rather a tiny seed, bristling with teeth-strewn tentacles. It immediately latched onto Bihui’s hand, interweaving its tendrils around the cultivator’s fingers with unsightly alacrity. The mass expanded until it covered his entire arm.
Yet for all its growth and haste, the gnashing teeth failed to find purchase within the cultivator’s skin, their fury utterly ineffectual.
“What is this? Some parlour trick meant to entertain?” Bihui muttered irritably. He flexed his qi, and the poor thing ruptured immediately.
However, in that split second, the pressure around Feng faltered.
“Now, please.”
The Beheaded Phoenix’s Young Master struck.
Pooling all the qi he could gather into one fist, Feng punched into Bihui’s stomach with all his might. His fist did not so much as stagger as it exploded in on itself. The skin and flesh of his poor hand were blown into bloody chunks. His finger bones and knuckles practically disintegrated on impact.
Such was the force of the blow that there was nothing left of Feng’s right fist in the aftermath. He gave everything he had in that strike.
For Bihui, there was barely any damage to him. At most, his beautiful robes were a little singed, a little creased by the attack.
But it still took the venerable Nascent cultivator by complete surprise, and so he staggered back a single inch.
The pressure surrounding them faltered further. Elder Jun rose.
With a roar that sundered Feng’s eardrums, the Elder smote with a fury that would have cowed even the greatest Spirit Beast of their mountain.
Three blows were unleashed in the span of an eye blink.
The first caught Bihui on the flank. Feng heard the cracking of ribs, as well as Elder Jun’s fist ripping apart from the sheer force of his punch.
The second was a jab launched straight at the foreign cultivator’s throat. The Elder’s lanced fingers splintered against Bihui’s neck like an ageing spear thrust against marble, but the foreign Young Master choked.
The third was an elbow uppercut slammed straight into the underside of Bihui’s nose, and it was that third blow that finally forced their opponent to take a step back.
In that briefest of moments when the blow connected, Feng thought he had seen a flicker. The smiling facade of the cultivation had given way to snarling features. The shape of their face — if it was a face at all — was completely different from their disguise, but the moment was too short, and the mask soon snapped back in place.
Regardless, the invisible winds surrounding them guttered out, and the pressure vanished entirely. Freed from the unnatural hold on them, the pair activated the [Fiery Comet Step], dashing themselves free from the foreign cultivator.
In almost any other case, it would have been wiser to continue the assault. The pair outnumbered their lone opponent, and in that window of opportunity, they could have pressed the attack rather than fled.
Yet, both the Elder and Feng knew that would have been a foolish choice.
This was not an opponent they could best, even if they fought together.
With the hold of the Divine Art shattered, people all around them were screaming. From the corner of his eye, Feng saw the mortal audience scrambling for the exit, trampling over each other without care if it would grant them but one step closer to safety.
All had come to watch the bloodthirsty spectacle between cultivators. Such myriad displays of exotic strength and Divine Arts between practitioners from all over the Northern Provinces were a sight rare and valuable beyond belief — a true once-in-a-century experience. They would have been fools to pass it up.
But even the lure of exceptional experiences or sensational sights had limits. It was one thing to witness a duel between Disciples within the Shaping or Tempering Realm. Fights between Nascent cultivators were almost unheard of in the Outer Provinces, and for good reason.
Such things often saw entire towns destroyed, with nary a single mortal witness left alive.
Had Bihui wished, he could have easily choked the life out of every mortal in the stadium with his Divine Art, rather than pressure them to stillness. Hundreds, maybe even a thousand, would be dead within the span of a breath.
That was the strength of a Nascent Realm cultivator. To them, the existence of mortals was more comparable to ants than fellow humans.
And Feng was about to fight one.
“Young Master, you need to flee,” Elder Jun ordered. The panic in his voice was just barely veiled by his controlled qi breathing. The mangled hands of the Elder began to heal. “I will hold him off. Please leave immediately.”
Feng chuckled.
“I mean no disrespect to the Elder, but that man is much faster than you,” the Young Master replied, cradling his own destroyed hand in his arms. The flesh was already beginning to regrow, but it was too slow and too damaged to heal in time. “He will almost certainly find a way past your defences and catch up to me, no matter how fast I run. With that being the case, I would much rather stay within the safety of the Elder’s shadow.”
Besides, if Feng left, there was a good chance that Elder Jun would die. The Young Master would rather that not be the case.
“Stubborn child,” the Elder said through gritted teeth. “You have spent too much time with Dai.”
The man did not refute Feng’s point, however. Flee or fight, the Young Master’s chance of survival looked equally slim.
And so the choice was no choice at all. The Young Master refused to meet his end, fleeing with his back turned.
If Feng were to die that day, he would accept nothing less than to die proud.
Comments
Jonathan with a G
a real Arrogant Young Master appears!
