Wuduyai still waited anxiously for his senior brother’s arrival, keeping his camp gates tightly shut these past few days. Every morning, the Tang army would charge, only to retreat once they were done, and since he dared not engage, he was miserably stifled.
The Tang generals, however, were in high spirits. Ever since they began their campaign to subdue the Southern Barbarians, they had never before managed to box the enemy in so thoroughly and batter them like this. They vented the accumulated frustration of months, fighting with increasing ferocity.
That morning, Wuduyai still maintained the high ground, refusing to sortie under a white banner. Then, a loud shout rose from below.
“Wuduyai, if you have the guts, come out and see what I’m holding!”
The voice was clear and resonant—it was the young man who had dueled him that other day. Wuduyai’s curiosity was piqued, and he stood up to peer beyond the stockade gate. He saw Feng Zikang swaggering about, holding aloft a black banner that fluttered in the wind.
“This is…”
Wuduyai was greatly astonished. He focused his gaze and indeed saw the vivid image of the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King painted upon the banner’s surface. On the stark white flagpole, there were several places smeared with dripping fresh blood!
“Ah! Senior Brother!”
Wuduyai, overwhelmed by grief and pain, spat blood and collapsed to the ground!
This was unmistakably his senior brother’s vital magic treasure, the Pagoda Heavenly King Flag. That banner was intrinsically linked to his brother Dashan’s very flesh and blood; how could it have fallen into this youth’s hands? His brother must have met with foul play!
He was filled with both sorrow and regret—regret that he had dragged his senior brother into this mire, causing him to lose his life for nothing.
“Waaaaah!”
Wuduyai roared, his eyes splitting open in fury, spurting blood.
“Senior Brother! I will avenge you!”
He snatched up his long spear, slapped the back of his head with one hand, and transformed into his towering, sixteen-foot Dharma Body. He leaped out of the stockade gate, ignoring the Tang soldiers, intent only on smashing wildly toward Feng Zikang. Those around him tried to dissuade him, but it was too late; they were forced to surge out as well, plunging into a chaotic melee with the Tang forces.
“Well met!”
Feng Zikang remained unhurried, using his plain iron sword to parry. However, he felt that this fellow’s strength seemed to have increased several notches. In his fit of rage, Wuduyai had clearly unlocked latent potential within his body.
Feng Zikang flipped backward, retreating over ten yards, steadying himself. He felt a dull ache in the web between his thumb and forefinger.
Wuduyai did not pursue. He rubbed his hands together, and as flakes fell away, they grew rapidly in the wind, transforming into fully armed warriors who swarmed toward Feng Zikang.
“Scattering beans to summon soldiers—is that all you have? Such unorthodox divine powers, there’s no need to show off!”
Feng Zikang took up his Soul Bone Sword and gave a gentle wave. Dozens of black wisps surged out, engaging the mass of warriors in a deadlock.
Wuduyai roared in anger, opening his cavernous maw and spewing forth a foul stench. The stench formed a vortex, which rapidly grew into a storm, howling as it swept toward Feng Zikang.
“Is this what they call calling the wind and summoning the rain? It’s just bad breath! A joke!”
Feng Zikang pinched the Star River Shuttle in his hand and instantly vanished. By the time the storm had passed, he reappeared steadily in mid-air.
“Bravo!”
This exchange of magical arts happened in a flash, yet anyone with keen eyes could see that Feng Zikang held the upper hand. Wuduyai had displayed all his ultimate tricks, yet Feng Zikang countered every one, rendering them ineffective. The Tang generals watched, dazzled, shouting their praises.
Though they were seasoned warriors who had faced death many times, when had they ever witnessed such unpredictable magical dueling? Even Luo Kedi, who had spent two years at Longhu Mountain, gaped with envy.
“I never expected that in just one year apart, Martial Uncle’s skills would become this formidable! Alas, my fortune is shallow. If only I could learn even half of Martial Uncle’s prowess, how wonderful that would be?”
“Wuduyai, stop flaunting your powers. These petty tricks are beneath my notice! If you have true ability, bring forth real weapons and let’s fight three hundred rounds!”
Feng Zikang stood poised in the air, obliquely holding his iron sword, radiating bold, cloud-piercing arrogance.
“Good!”
Wuduyai cried out fiercely, hefting his long spear. He changed his thrust to a slash, raining down blows upon Feng Zikang’s head. Feng Zikang met the attacks with his iron sword. After three solid clashes, both men were dry-mouthed and panting, their chests tight, each retreating a few steps.
“Again!”
In terms of sheer strength, Feng Zikang was clearly a notch below the enraged Wuduyai, yet he showed no fear. He flicked his wrist, issuing another contemptuous challenge.
His only advantage was being airborne, making it difficult to be overpowered. He only needed to retreat far enough to borrow strength, thus avoiding injury from shockwaves. However, Wuduyai’s strength was impossibly immense, and his method of channeling power was bizarre; before old force subsided, new force was already being generated, leaving his arm numb. He quietly shifted his grip, hiding his right hand behind his back, his fingers still trembling uncontrollably.
“You seek death!”
Wuduyai cursed, delivering seven consecutive heavy strikes with his spear. Feng Zikang met them head-on, neither yielding nor retreating a single step!
A thin trickle of blood slowly seeped from the corner of his mouth, but his expression remained composed.
Wuduyai gave him a thumbs-up. In his blazing red eyes, filled with hatred, a flicker of admiration momentarily crossed.
“You are indeed a fine man, but you used trickery to kill my senior brother. I must have vengeance for him!”
Wuduyai’s expression turned manic once more. He seemed convinced that this youth had used guile to kill his brother, otherwise, given his own strength, he could at best fight to a draw. How else could this youth have defeated his senior brother, whose skill was ten times greater than his own?
“Take another spear thrust!”
He mustered all the strength he possessed and drove a fierce thrust forward, wishing to smash Feng Zikang into a pulp. Feng Zikang gripped his sword with both hands and swept upwards! There was a crackling sound—Wuduyai’s long spear, thick as a bowl, snapped in two! The spearhead flew off, embedding itself several inches deep into the cliff face, the broken stub still vibrating intensely!
“Your weapon is inferior; this battle is yours to lose!”
Feng Zikang sneered coldly. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he struggled to regulate his breathing, holding his sword upright.
Wuduyai gave a bitter laugh. “Good! You Great Tang truly possess many marvels. I never thought this long spear, which accompanied me for so many years, would break here today! But don’t celebrate yet; you think my Southern Barbarians are without treasures?”
His face contorted in tragic ferocity, his eyes blazing with absolute resolve. Suddenly, he plunged his right hand backward, stabbing it into his own chest!
Blood sprayed outward!
He grimaced, yet uttered no sound. With both hands, he tore open his sternum and bloodily extracted a curved short sword!
The curved sword resembled a crescent moon, flashing with an eerie, malevolent light.
“It is a pity I failed to nurture the sword within; I can no longer reach the realm my Senior Brother attained! But today, the Moon-Slaying Demonic Sword is revealed. Hey, brat, don’t even think about escaping with your life!”
Feng Zikang’s expression grew solemn, but from his storage pouch, he retrieved the Pagoda Heavenly King Flag once more.
Boundless killing intent vaguely emanated from the curved short sword, its demonic glow strangely unsettling. It clearly was no common item; its rank was likely above Yellow-Grade Mid-Tier. How could Wuduyai possibly wield such a magic weapon?
Yet, such was the reality. The short sword, even lying passively there, exerted immense pressure on him.
He suddenly had a premonition: that demonic sword was genuinely capable of harming him!
“Hiss!”
Wuduyai’s short sword shot out, faster than lightning!
Feng Zikang flung himself backward as a line of crimson streaked across the air, causing the Tang soldiers to cry out in alarm!