Hawk-beasts were creatures that preferred to congregate at night; during the day, they largely scattered, only gathering when darkness fell, and this aggregation lasted only for the brief two-month period of their nesting season.

Their reason for gathering was simple: to defend against natural predators. Strange as it seemed, they were Level Five Magical Beasts, yet their predator was a common Rat-ball Beast, two levels beneath them. This Rat-ball Beast had a particular appetite for young Hawk-beasts. Unfledged young possessed neither sharp claws nor steel tendons, nor could they unleash magic, so capture by a Rat-ball Beast was invariably fatal.

However, a Rat-ball Beast that consumed a young Hawk-beast would, in a short span, advance in rank to become a King Rat-ball Beast, a Level Four Magical Beast. Conversely, adult Hawk-beasts preyed upon the Rat-ball Beasts. Thus, the Creator’s design was truly marvelous; the unbreakable maxim of mutual sustenance and restraint existed in every world.

The sheer might generated by over thirty Magisters, all wielding Level Five magic simultaneously, resulted in an earth-shattering tremor that startled the resting flock of Hawk-beasts, provoking their sharp cries.

“Don’t panic… Although Hawk-beasts enjoy company, there are never more than a dozen gathered together. For the thirty of us Magisters, escape should be extremely simple!” remarked one Magister who seemed to grasp the situation.

“That’s a relief…” A collective sigh escaped the group. Thirty-odd Level Five Magisters facing a dozen Level Five Magical Beasts—a complete annihilation was possible; escape was certainly achievable.

“Whoosh, whoosh…”

Just as the company felt fortunate, the sound of objects tearing through the air intensified dramatically from the distance, a roaring wave of frantic wing beats surging towards them.

“What is that…” Every face instantly changed color. Even the dullest among them knew these sounds belonged to approaching Hawk-beasts. Judging by the noise, there had to be no less than five hundred.

“Damn it, didn’t you say there were only a dozen?” Yu Ou burst out cursing, simultaneously bellowing, “Move out…” His Flight Spell activated, and he shot forward. The other Magisters snapped to attention, following in hasty pursuit.

But their speed could never match that of the Hawk-beasts. Before they had flown three kilometers, they were enveloped by the incoming swarm.

“Boom… Boom…”

The Hawk-beasts vented their fury with magic and claws. Pitifully, the Magisters sent to hunt Chen Feng found their magic shields shattering in moments, leaving them scorched black, as if pulled directly from the bottom of a furnace.

“Go…” Yu Ou roared, leading the remnants in a triangular formation toward the perimeter. A veritable rain of savage magic converged in the sky, turning the heavens into a dazzling, bewildering spectacle, like thousands of fireworks exploding simultaneously.

When this battered group of Magisters finally broke through the Hawk-beast siege, fewer than ten remained, all magic robes tattered, bodies blackened—nothing left of their regal bearing.

The remaining Magisters exchanged looks, catching sight of each other’s wretched state, unable to suppress a profound sense of having narrowly survived disaster.

Yu Ou sighed heavily, “It’s a blessing we escaped. Though the losses were devastating, we did manage to kill the culprit who attempted to assassinate His Majesty. That counts for something.”

Hearing this brought a measure of comfort to the others, who offered wry, bitter smiles. They unfurled their Flight Spells and vanished like streaks of lightning toward the Imperial Palace…………………………………………………………………………………………

Of course, Chen Feng knew none of this.

At that moment, Chen Feng lay flat on the ground, completely unconscious. The combined power of thirty-odd Level Five spells raining down from above was immense. Even in his berserk state, Chen Feng dared not meet the assault head-on. In the moment of crisis, the Phantom Crane Step was unconsciously employed, propelling him out of the magical bombardment’s range and into the dense forest.

This desperate flight exhausted him completely; all his energy had been depleted after unleashing the Great Serpent Pheasant technique. With the danger past, his eyes snapped shut, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

Shortly after Chen Feng fell silent, a subtle ripple disturbed the air, and an old man materialized from the void. He stared down at the prone figure of Chen Feng, a look of profound indecision etched on his face—it was the old fiend from the Imperial Palace.

“Divine Blood… A divine artifact? If I kill him now, perhaps no one would ever know… If there were truly protectors, wouldn’t they have appeared by now?” the elder muttered to himself.

The elder had initially hesitated to harm Chen Feng, fearing he hailed from the Overseas Continent. But seeing the Divine Bloodline flowing through him and the artifact in his hand ignited a dangerous greed. Previously, his caution was for the Empire; now, it was entirely for himself. Weighing the two priorities, self-interest naturally won, stirring a murderous intent. No matter how great one’s position, personal gain must come first. To consider others exclusively made one either a fool or a saint, and the old fiend was neither. He would make the logical choice.

“Without the infusion of faith power, the strength of the Divine Bloodline cannot be truly utilized. Have I remained in the Imperial Palace all these years for any reason other than to gather the faith power of the entire Luoqi Empire? If I possessed the Divine Bloodline, I could absorb every last bit of that amassed faith power… Hah! With that, I could achieve immortality…” In his excitement, the old fiend’s withered face crinkled further.

Even at his advanced stage, granting him boundless longevity, his body lacked true vitality. Obtaining the Divine Bloodline would allow a complete rebirth, infusing his frame with elasticity and vigor. Increased vitality would, in turn, make condensing a Divine Spark and resisting the Heavenly Tribulation significantly easier.

The more he contemplated it, the more thrilled he became; golden light shone in the old fiend’s eyes, making him appear even more monstrous.

With a flip of his wrist, a pristine crystal orb appeared—he evidently possessed his own spatial accessory. Holding the orb in his palm, he gazed at the white, mist-like substance within and whispered excitedly, “This is five centuries of accumulated faith power! Hah, today I absorb the Divine Bloodline and achieve a breakthrough in one swift stroke…”

With a flick of his wrist, the crystal orb floated eerily above Chen Feng’s open palm. The old fiend chuckled, sweeping his left hand forward, which caused Chen Feng to gently levitate as well, creating a bizarre tableau.

Having made these preparations, he sat down to regulate his breathing for a moment before rising and approaching Chen Feng. Extending a long, sharp fingernail, he sliced Chen Feng’s wrist, and blood immediately streamed out. Instead of falling, the blood suspended itself in the air, motionless.

The old fiend then touched the aerial crystal orb with his withered left hand. The milky white vapor inside immediately began to churn, separating into fine filaments that drifted slowly outward. Where these threads of vapor touched Chen Feng’s shed blood, a strange reaction occurred: the blood grew intensely crimson, and its inherent power deepened.

The old fiend’s expression grew serious; he dared not be careless. He used his right fingernail to cut his own wrist, allowing his blood to flow freely, though his blood dripped directly onto the ground.

Chen Feng, still unconscious, seemed to sense the pain; he let out a low groan, his body trembling violently, his face turning waxy-yellow from blood loss.

The old fiend frowned, ignoring the reaction. A powerful suction force emanated from the wound on his wrist, drawing the floating blood—now merged with the white vapor—upward.

“Swoosh…” The blood streamed directly toward the old fiend’s injured wrist.

Excitement flooded the old fiend’s face. Absorption was proof of success. If this worked, he would be only one step away from the realm he coveted… The mere thought of attaining the treasure that was the Divine Bloodline made him tremble with elation.

But his excitement was short-lived. Suddenly, his expression twisted, and a piercing scream tore from his throat!

“Agh…”

An immensely powerful wave of will, surging from those few drops of blood, rushed forth like a tidal wave, directly assaulting him! Fueled by the Faith Power, this will struck with ferocious might, like a primeval beast rampaging through his internal pathways.

If Chen Feng had been awake, he would have instantly recognized those few drops of blood as the Frenzied Blood he created using the killing intent of the Nether Feather Sword. Chen Feng had prepared the Frenzied Blood near his wrist to prevent himself from losing control during a berserk state; when the old fiend sliced the area, those few drops naturally flowed out.

In the two months following the end of the Newcomer Selection Tournament, Chen Feng had manufactured dozens of doses of Frenzied Blood. While going berserk granted immense temporary power, its drawbacks were glaring: a complete loss of conscious control. Even a god, if lacking control over their will, acted against their own desire. Chen Feng created so much not just for the purpose of berserking, but because the process of generating the Frenzied Blood was an excellent means of training his mental fortitude. In fact, he was unaware that these two months of training were precisely what allowed him to choose evasion and concealment over a futile head-on clash during his last rampage.

Because this Frenzied Blood shared the same origin as Chen Feng’s Flame Dragon Bloodline, it could remain stable within his own body. But how could it possibly tolerate residing within the old fiend? Even though the fiend’s cultivation was far beyond that of any ordinary person, he was still vastly inferior to something imbued with the killing intent of the Nether Feather Sword and the essence of the Flame Dragon Blood. The power of a god was something the abnormal could never truly comprehend—this was the meaning of ‘Invincible Divine Might.’

In an instant, the old fiend’s face cycled from bruised purple to deathly pale.

“Agh…” Clutching his head, he began to leap about madly, rocketing skyward until he vanished in the next breath, abandoning the crystal orb floating above Chen Feng entirely.

With the fiend gone, the crystal orb and Chen Feng instantly lost their support and plummeted to the ground. The orb landed right beside Chen Feng’s wrist, wisps of white mist still emanating from it. The mist, closely adjacent to Chen Feng’s severed wrist, encountered an invisible tearing force emanating from the blood. In less than five seconds, all the white vapor in the crystal orb was completely absorbed.

Stripped of its mist, the crystal orb returned to its transparent state, losing all its former luster. The wound on Chen Feng’s wrist, having absorbed the vapor from the blood, began to heal at a visible rate, and his previously ashen face rapidly regained color…

ps: I completely forgot—today is the Mid-Autumn Festival (August 15th)! Time truly flies. Old Cliff wishes all friends a happy festival and all the best in your endeavors… (To be continued; for the rest of the story, please visit wwwncom for more chapters, support the author, and support legitimate reading!)