Chapter Ninety-Two: A Bewitching Blade, Astonishing All Present

“Do you really think that, like this, you can keep me trapped in here?”

Faced with such an encirclement, Feather Wound did not panic at all. Instead, he smiled calmly at the crowd and spoke. Rather than saying he was indifferent and breezy, it would be more accurate to say that he was deliberately distracting them, hoping to find an opening and defeat them.

But this little scheme might have been more than enough for others; against Little Hidden, it was useless. One must not forget that in this world, the person who knew that troublesome fellow best was none other than the little companion who had been at his side for so many years. Before he even spoke, Little Hidden could guess what Feather Wound intended to say; likewise, with even the slightest gesture, Little Hidden could tell exactly what he planned to do next.

Thus, in this world, the hardest enemy to deal with is often the one closest to you. He knows your thoughts, your inclinations, your every secret. To defeat someone who understands you so thoroughly, perhaps one must first learn how to cast aside the self one once was. Yet that is easier said than done; who can truly abandon themselves? Even Feather Wound could not do it.

The former him had lived through so many events and carried so much of the past that it could not simply be put down with a few careless words. Just the feeling in his heart from who he once was made him unwilling to be reborn from the ashes. No matter how much that feeling had hurt him, betrayed him, or wounded him, he still could not bear to let it go, because it was also a very important part of his life. How could he bring himself to abandon it so ruthlessly?

In truth, Feather Wound himself knew this was his weakness. As long as the other side seized upon it, let alone defeat him, they could even take his life. But what of it? He simply could not let it go.

At times, he was not a strong man, not a saint, only Feather Wound, and nothing more. Though his outward shell might be impervious to blades and spears, his heart could never be truly flawless.

Still, even if one day he really died because of that weakness, he supposed he would not resent it, nor regret it. Let it be counted as repayment to that woman. In the end, it was still that woman who won; whether he lived or died, he could not discard her. To his eyes, no matter how lovely a woman might be, she was at best a fleeting ornament of the moment, fit only for passing amusement, never for steadfast devotion.

Fortunately, the person who knew him best was Little Hidden, and the person who cared most about him was still Little Hidden. Feather Wound believed that no matter what happened, he would never truly harm himself. Even if some deed of his ended up implicating Feather Wound, he would only have done it for Feather Wound’s sake. Feather Wound was truly grateful to have Little Hidden, but the more grateful he felt, the less he could allow him to be hurt on his account. So in this contest, he would absolutely show no mercy.

As for the others, he could not exactly say he hated them; he was only a little annoyed. Still, he could understand their reasoning. After all, everyone stood on different sides, and so they saw the problem from very different angles. What he cared about, others might not understand; what others understood did not mean he would understand as well. So he would not blame anyone for their thoughts. Once this contest ended, everything would pass.

“Whether we can beat you, you troublesome brat, we’ll know once we try!”

With that, Little Hidden flung the glowing treasured sword into the air, and the others did the same with the blades in their hands. Several swords hovered above Feather Wound. On the surface they seemed nothing particularly special, but anyone who focused could sense the power within them, a force brimming with intimidation, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

The entire sequence of movements was as swift as lightning, leaving Feather Wound no time at all. They knew he was far too clever. If he caught even a hint of what they intended, they would surely lose this contest, and the outcome would not be pleasant. So all they could do now was deny him the time to think, to throw him into confusion and force him into disorder, giving them a chance to seize the advantage.

The several treasured swords gathered above Feather Wound and released a dazzling brilliance. They shone like brilliant stars against a black curtain, and like crystal dew glittering beneath the sun. In any case, that radiance stirred the hearts of all present, as if touching the purest stretch of land hidden deep within them. Even Feather Wound almost faltered before it, but he knew this was no time to be entranced.

At that moment, a sudden commotion came from the corner. It turned out that the master sword in the old dean’s hands had begun to stir restlessly, eager to break free from the old man’s grasp and rush toward Feather Wound. It released a terrifying murderous aura and a faint, dark light, as though warning the other swords not to harm Feather Wound, or the consequences would be too dreadful to imagine.

Had the old dean’s cultivation not been unfathomably profound, constantly suppressing it with true energy and forbidding it to move, this master sword would already have shot forward to rescue Feather Wound from his perilous situation. Unfortunately, no matter how fiercely it struggled, it could not escape the old man’s palm. Helpless, it let out a sound somewhere between a cry of grief and a warning. Looking again, the other swords’ fierce energy had actually weakened considerably.

Seeing this, the crowd sensed trouble and immediately closed their eyes, communicating with the swords through their minds, telling them not to retreat at the sight of battle. True combat made no distinction between principal and secondary. Only then did the others’ momentum flare back to life. Yet after this incident, none of them could continue to underestimate that master sword. Even in such a dire predicament, it could still disperse the fighting spirit of the others, and it had not forgotten to protect its true master. It was truly astonishing.

Then, as though receiving some new command, the several swords suddenly rushed together toward the unarmed Feather Wound. That formation clearly meant to take his life on the spot.

But even if they outnumbered him, so what? Feather Wound was no ordinary minor character. Just as the blades were about to make intimate contact with him, a blinding, intensely brilliant white light burst from within his body.

That white light grew larger and larger, then exploded violently, striking the swords that meant harm to Feather Wound and sending them scattering in all directions. Seeing that the situation had turned bad, the others hurriedly retreated as well, trying to escape the dangerous area. But this white light was simply too fierce; it had no intention of sparing these opponents before it. No matter how desperately they tried to back away, they still failed to evade its attack.

In the end, they were miserably wounded by it and fell to the ground, staring at Feather Wound in shock. They truly could not understand: should Feather Wound not have been, like them, suppressed by the power of this treasure vault and unable to use true energy? Why could he still erupt with such horrifying radiance? Had he not held back, they would all have been gravely injured by now, left meekly at the mercy of others.

Even the old dean fixed his gaze on Feather Wound, his heart repeatedly sighing in wonder: just how many more surprises was this troublesome brat going to give him? No one knew better than he how formidable the power within this treasure vault was. If not for the fact that, as a dean, he had been granted a resistance to it, even his level of cultivation would not have allowed him to freely circulate true energy. It seemed this boy was far more capable than he had imagined.

Just as the others were about to ask what had happened, a very sharp divine weapon drifted out from Feather Wound’s chest. Upon closer inspection, it was none other than the world-famous soul-slaying blade. It appeared that the overwhelmingly powerful light from earlier had been released from within it. Seeing this, the old dean grew very vexed; damn it, how could he have forgotten about it?

What none of them had expected was that, though it was now only a broken weapon, it could unleash power beyond even that of a divine treasure. If its missing pieces were recovered and it were forged whole again, its might might be enough to destroy the world itself. At that thought, everyone drew a sharp breath. This soul-slaying blade was simply too terrifying, too shocking.

The blade radiated an unusual light, a force charged with intimidation, dominance, and unyielding authority. It floated slowly before Feather Wound, as if waiting for its master to take it in hand. Feather Wound, seeing this, grasped it without hesitation, that supreme divine weapon bearing the bearing of a monarch. At that moment, everyone felt that Feather Wound and the soul-slaying blade were perfectly matched, as though fated from birth to belong together.

The moment Feather Wound’s fingertips touched the hilt, he felt power flood through his body, even waking the slumbering true energy within him. Without question, Feather Wound returned to his peak condition, his true energy also seemingly inexhaustibly abundant. It seemed heaven did not torment him endlessly after all; it had even helped him once in a while. Or perhaps more accurately, it was the soul-slaying blade that helped him.

What Feather Wound had not expected, however, was that the soul-slaying blade in his hands could actually break through the binding force left behind by an ancient divine being and reclaim all the true energy he had lost here. At the same time, the restrictions of this treasure vault could no longer exert any effect on him. Yet on others, they remained as merciless and oppressive as ever.

“Hmph, after wasting so much time, I finally forced your real strength out of you, you troublesome brat! Excellent. Then I no longer need to keep up appearances. This time, I’ll use my true skill to measure myself against you!”

Little Hidden turned toward Feather Wound with a strangely eerie smile, as though he had long foreseen this scene. It seemed Little Hidden was not so easy to deal with either.

Then Little Hidden turned and said to the others, “In this damned place, your cultivation is all suppressed, so you can’t perform normally. So this time, just stand aside and watch the show. No need for you to get involved in this contest anymore. Let me properly battle this troublesome brat for several hundred rounds!”

His tone was full of anticipation, as though he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

When the others heard this, they wisely stepped aside and silently watched the two men who were about to enter a fierce struggle. At last, Azure Mist could not help shouting at Little Hidden, “You little snake, be careful! This time, your opponent is not someone you can fool your way past so easily! And if you lose and get hurt, just wait until I deal with you!”

Although Azure Mist did not approve of this contest, there was no helping it. At this moment, she could only hope that the person she loved would win, so her heart could feel a little better. But she also knew that although Little Hidden’s abilities were indeed not weak, Feather Wound’s potential was even more limitless. Who knew when he might surprise them again? This contest would not be settled so easily.

“Understood, my lovely Azure One. Just watch me beat this troublesome brat senseless!” Little Hidden declared with absolute confidence, as though he did not place Feather Wound in the least. Did he truly possess some secret method for defeating this troublesome brat, or was he merely putting on a front and playing a psychological game? No matter what, this was a contest not to be missed; the surprises within would surely exceed all expectations.

“You should spend your time thinking about how not to be caught by me,” Feather Wound said softly as he looked at Little Hidden. Yet the intimidation in those words could be heard by anyone. It seemed Little Hidden would have no small trouble this time.