Long Feng was shaken to his core, but Zhang Yang felt a deep sense of calm settle over him. He had already assessed that the opponent’s internal energy was inferior to his own; the only advantage Long Feng currently possessed was his weapon.

Though Zhang Yang was unarmed, he possessed numerous trump cards. These hidden strengths were in no way inferior to Long Feng’s weapon; in fact, they might even hold a slight edge.

“Swish, swish!” After being infused with internal energy, the branches became as hard as tempered steel as Zhang Yang instantly shifted from defense to offense, launching them toward Long Feng and startling him badly. While Long Feng was still reeling in surprise, Zhang Yang seized the initiative to attack, giving him an initial sensation of being completely overwhelmed.

He was forced to retreat several steps in succession before he could finally steady himself, relying on the advantage of his weapon to engage Zhang Yang in a fierce exchange. His internal energy was indeed lesser than Zhang Yang’s, but the deficit was marginal—nothing like the absolute chasm that separated him from Long Cheng.

This gap was insufficient to definitively declare a victor. After overcoming his initial agitation, Long Feng gradually settled into a steady, cautious rhythm.

Although his internal energy was less, his weapon did not demand the constant, massive expenditure of Neijin that Zhang Yang required. If Zhang Yang wanted the branches to match the rigidity of Long Feng’s whip, he had to continuously channel vast amounts of internal energy into them, maintaining their hardness like a razor-sharp sword.

This method of fighting resulted in an enormous drain on Neijin. His strategy now was simple: hold out steadily.

Eventually, the one whose internal energy depleted first would be Zhang Yang. Even if Zhang Yang truly was superior, a man drained of his Neijin would be nothing more than a tiger with its limbs bound and its fangs removed—no longer dangerous.

His plan was sound, but fate had concealed a vital piece of information from him: Zhang Yang carried multiple potent elixirs. In a true contest of endurance, Zhang Yang had absolutely nothing to fear.

He currently concealed a thousand-year ginseng pill on his person, ready to be swallowed at any moment to replenish any depleted internal energy. Who would ultimately falter first remained an open question.

The battle between the two churned up howling gusts of wind; several surrounding trees had already snapped under the strain of their fighting. Long Cheng had also been forced back many steps, watching the two figures collide and clash with a stunned expression.

He possessed internal energy too, but compared to these two, he was less than a kindergartner. He couldn't even follow their movements, seeing only blurs of rapid shadow.

This crushed his hope of learning anything from the spectacle. The disparity was too vast, so immense it induced despair; he knew he would never reach the level of either man standing before him in his lifetime.

Time slowly wore on. Zhang Yang was disadvantaged in terms of weaponry and temporarily unable to gain the upper hand over Long Feng, yet Long Feng’s ambition to defeat Zhang Yang was equally wishful thinking.

Half an hour later, wisps of white mist began to rise from the crown of Zhang Yang’s head. This was the unmistakable sign of extreme Neijin consumption, where the energy began to leak uncontrollably outward.

Long Feng’s forehead was damp with sweat, but he had not yet reached the stage where white mist vented from his scalp. This filled him with secret delight; his strategy was working.

Zhang Yang’s internal energy simply could not outlast his own. The white mist was not something one could control; it was the genuine consequence of profound energy exhaustion.

“Swish, swish!” Zhang Yang lightly tapped his branches a few times and retreated rapidly. While his Neijin consumption was indeed high, a thrill coursed through him.

Since his transmigration, his internal energy had been constantly recovering, but he had never encountered a genuine opponent capable of matching his strength. On many occasions, he had felt the profound loneliness of a master who could find no worthy adversary.

Long Cheng had Neijin, but his level was so low in Zhang Yang’s estimation that it was barely past the introductory stage. A match with Long Cheng would not be sparring; it would be pure bullying.

Long Feng was different—a true rival whose internal energy lagged only slightly behind his own, complemented by an excellent weapon. Engaging in combat with him offered Zhang Yang the exhilarating, visceral satisfaction he craved.

After taking a few steps back, Zhang Yang swallowed the thousand-year ginseng pill without hesitation. Such an elixir was immensely precious, but a worthy opponent was even rarer.

He would never pass up such an opportunity. As soon as the thousand-year ginseng pill materialized, a clear, mellow fragrance filled the air.

Zhang Yang immediately placed the pill in his mouth, and the aroma vanished. However, a faint trace of the residual scent lingered in the air.

Seeing Zhang Yang consume the pill and catching that scent caused Long Feng’s expression to change drastically. He was no ordinary man; he was a core disciple hailing from an ancient lineage spanning millennia.

The Xuanyuan Family’s inheritance was over two thousand years old, even predating Zhang Yang’s Yi Sheng lineage. As a core disciple of such an ancient house, his knowledge base naturally surpassed that of a common person.

By that scent alone, he knew it was a spirit medicine, and a very fine one at that. The Xuanyuan Family possessed spirit medicines, but they were exceptionally rare treasures, never administered except in dire necessity, even with the secular power structures aiding their resource collection.

Heavenly materials and earthly treasures were seldom found. Coupled with the large number of family members, their preserved spirit medicines were naturally few.

Long Feng himself had witnessed a spirit medicine only once before, used when an elder required it for a breakthrough; it was then he had smelled that unique, utterly different fragrance from ordinary herbs. To see Zhang Yang swallow such a treasure so casually stunned Long Feng into silence regarding how to address him.

In his view, Zhang Yang was being profligate. Spirit medicines should be reserved for moments of critical breakthrough.

Using one now to restore Neijin was a monumental waste. He also felt a pang of envy.

What mission had the family sent him on? This young man not only possessed deeper internal energy than himself but also carried spirit medicines on his person, consuming them as mere Neijin restoratives.

Even the Xuanyuan Family did not possess someone like this. This world was mad, utterly insane.

Long Feng was left with only bitterness. His hopes of exhausting Zhang Yang’s internal energy were instantly dashed; with spirit medicine, Zhang Yang could sustain the fight for an incredibly long time.

He understood the effects of such elixirs all too well. Zhang Yang was already absorbing the medicinal power of the ginseng.

The white mist above his head ceased, and a hint of flush even appeared on his cheeks. The more intense the combat became, the faster he absorbed the energy.

Under normal circumstances, the replenishment from a thousand-year ginseng pill should not match the rate of consumption. Zhang Yang was an exception; having consumed several pills previously, the efficacy was diminished, but his absorption rate had far surpassed previous experiences.

Right now, absorption speed was paramount for Zhang Yang. His replenishment had caught up with, and even slightly exceeded, his expenditure, slowly fortifying his internal energy reserves.

Zhang Yang grew stronger and more invigorated the longer the fight lasted, while Long Feng sank deeper into desperation. His own Neijin was substantially depleted now.

He realized that if he didn't devise a change soon, he faced real danger today. His will to fight began to wane.

Long Feng’s attacks lost their sharp edge, and his whip work transitioned into a purely defensive stance. His feet executed an arcane stepping pattern, weaving swiftly through the sparse trees.

His eyes began darting around, scouting for the best vector of retreat. He was confident in his escape; his speed was considerable, and his stealth technique was peerless.

If he committed to fleeing, he was certain Zhang Yang could not catch him. Long Feng suddenly lashed out with his whip, and capitalizing on the instant Zhang Yang jumped to evade, he powerfully kicked off a nearby rock.

His entire body shot forward towards a large tree trunk. He spun around the trunk, pushed off again with his feet, and in the next second, he was already against another tree.

With just these two simple maneuvers, he had covered over ten meters in the blink of an eye. A few more such moves, and he would be out of Zhang Yang’s sight, vanishing into the forest.

Zhang Yang blinked, momentarily stunned and slightly dumbfounded. He had been having the time of his life, finally finding a worthy outlet for his pent-up energy, only for the opponent to bolt before the catharsis was complete.

This was a member of the Long family, an inner sect disciple, yet he proved so fragile that he chose to run away. Zhang Yang knew something about the Xuanyuan Family too.

Their Yi Sheng lineage had also endured for a long time. Though smaller in scale than the Xuanyuan Family, their knowledge was not inferior.

The Xuanyuan Family traditionally practiced seclusion. Those seen operating in the outside world were typically outer disciples; the inner circle rarely ventured out.

Furthermore, when inner members did operate externally, they never used the surname Xuanyuan, adopting the surname Long, just like the outer disciples. This led many to assume they were simply members of the Long family, unaware of their true identity or the vastly larger power lurking behind them.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak!” As Zhang Yang hesitated and did not immediately pursue, Long Feng dared not relax his vigilance, keeping his focus entirely on Zhang Yang. As he reached the second tree, a sudden chill ran across his arm.

Before he could react, a white shadow had already leaped far away, still letting out sharp, high-pitched cries. Half of Long Feng’s body instantly went numb.

When he finally identified the white shadow, his face drained to a deathly pale. A Fox-Tailed Marten.

The Fox-Tailed Marten, one of the Ten Great Venomous Beasts. He could not have imagined that such a dangerous creature inhabited the mountains near this city, let alone that it had bitten him when his guard was down.

He knew the potency of this poison intimately; not only he, but perhaps even an elder in his family could not withstand it. “Damn it!” Zhang Yang’s expression also changed drastically.

In his excitement, he had completely forgotten about Lightning. Lightning’s venom was exceptionally violent; ordinary people could never survive it.

Long Feng, possessing internal energy, might fare slightly better, but having never consumed spirit medicine, his resistance to the toxin was worse than Zhang Yang’s was initially. Zhang Yang flickered, appearing instantly before Long Cheng.

With no time for explanation, he snatched the canvas bag and bolted out. He carried antidotes, but they were all inside that canvas bag.

He could only pray that Long Feng could hold on and not actually succumb to the poison. “Squeak, squeak, squeak!” Lightning followed Zhang Yang, chirping as if taking credit: the opponent his master couldn't defeat after a long fight, it had handled in one go.

Unfortunately, Zhang Yang had no mind to praise him now. He could not allow Long Feng to die here.

Preventing Long Feng’s death was not due to fear of the Xuanyuan Family backing him—though they were powerful, his Yi Sheng lineage was not to be trifled with; medicine that could heal could also kill. If provoked, the Xuanyuan Family would have a very difficult time.

However, Zhang Yang felt it was a terrible waste for a fighter like Long Feng to die so casually. Finding a suitable opponent was an exceedingly rare event.

There was another crucial point: Long Feng had shown no killing intent during their exchange, suggesting he hadn't come to murder Zhang Yang. Moreover, Long Feng had explicitly stated he was under orders to capture someone.

Zhang Yang needed to ascertain exactly who was targeting him from the shadows. Under these circumstances, letting him die was out of the question.

Tenth chapter done, two more to go. Xiao Yu, power through, there’s more coming!