Chapter Sixty-Six: Trust

“Hm?” Ye Pei called his name with precision, which actually surprised Feng Tanyang—he’d expected her to confuse him with Feng Xiaoyang. “Oh…” A few seconds later, he had the answer. “Someone must have told you.”

Indeed, it was Chen Mo who had once told Ye Pei about Feng Tanyang. Back when Ye Pei and the others fled from Righteous Gathering City, Feng Tanyang had appeared there; not long after, Chen Mo received news from Chen Xin.

As mentioned before, Feng Tanyang was a man of fiery temper and few words. Yet ever since meeting Ye Pei and her companions, he’d spoken more than ever.

“Heh…” Ye Pei chuckled lightly. “If such a trivial deduction is enough to make you smug, you truly fall far short of your brother in wits.”

Feng Tanyang drew a deep breath, steadying the turmoil in his blood caused by their recent clash. “You impudent youth,” he said. At eighteen, Ye Pei did seem quite young beside these men in their twenties. “Don’t think you can win with words alone. I’ll admit, I’m far inferior to Xiaoyang in cunning…” As he spoke, his breath gradually steadied, his tone betraying no emotion. “But in strength, even ten Xiaoyang could not be my match!”

He paused, then continued, “Since you’ve fought him, let me give you a general idea for your own peace of mind—so you won’t claim I bully children!”

We’ve noted before that Feng Tanyang’s verbosity grows in proportion to his anger; that he was speaking so much now meant that beneath his calm, his fury was erupting like Mount Fuji.

But Ye Pei didn’t know this—or if he did, he didn’t care.

“I’ve explained it once already, but if your mind is slow…” Ye Pei said patiently, “I’ll say it again. I’ve never fought your brother, but by the look of his skills…” A faint smile flickered at his lips. “Such foot soldiers—no matter how many come, I have nothing to fear.”

Feng Tanyang drew another deep breath, unable to restrain his urge to speak, now turning his ire on Huang Jifeng and Chen Mo. “A rebel is always a rebel. Not only do you disrespect the Star God, now you consort with a Pulse Seeker!”

“You are meddling in things far beyond you…” Ye Pei’s voice came again. “My qin is packed away. Are you going to fight or not?”

Feng Tanyang frowned, still in no rush to act. “You… where did you come from to reach this place?”

Earlier, after failing to catch Ye Pei, Feng Tanyang and his men had wandered into the Capture Domain. There, he heard news of an ancient tomb’s discovery, and upon arrival, found the right door in the entrance hall could be opened—so he’d plunged right in.

Yet once through that right door, the dangers multiplied beyond imagination: blades, fire, boiling oil, zombies, and mechanized beasts. In the end, only Feng Tanyang survived the ordeal by sheer strength, and at the journey’s end, he found a bold inscription on the grand hall’s floor.

“So, you made it through? Break the floor beneath your feet and descend,” it read.

Hearing Feng Xiaoyang’s question, Ye Pei laughed. “So, you’re the one who came through the right door. Judging by your appearance, your companions all perished, didn’t they?”

“Hmph…” Feng Tanyang didn’t reply. After a few seconds’ silence, he suddenly lashed out with a flying kick at Ye Pei, his hand already reaching for the weapon at his back.

Not a single movement escaped Ye Pei’s gaze. He spun low and surged forward, nearly grazing the ground, dodging the kick as his right hand whipped out his spear, Deep Snow. The long weapon collided with Feng Tanyang’s, producing a dizzying clash of metal.

They broke apart after only a single exchange. Ye Pei tightened his grip on his spear, trying to ease the numbness in his hands, thinking, “So his scabbard holds a steel whip? I thought it was a sword… What tremendous force.”

Meanwhile, Feng Xiaoyang wore a confident smile. He could see Ye Pei’s strength was inferior to his own.

“If not for the weight, I would have brought my twin maces—it would have been an even easier victory.”

(Whips and maces are both ancient weapons, counted among the so-called “Eighteen Arms.” The whip, here referring to the hard iron type, predates the mace. Both require great strength, having originated as hidden secondary weapons for swift ambushes—at sixty or seventy pounds, they’re hardly light. Lacking blades, their main attack is a crushing strike. In history, famed generals like Yuchi Jingde wielded twin whips, and Qin Shubao twin maces, both invincible in their time.)

After that single clash, Ye Pei gave up on brute force. With a flick of his spear tip, he closed in again, aiming to match skill against strength—the whip, for all its weight, could never rival the spear’s agility.

Seeing Ye Pei take the initiative, Feng Tanyang met him head-on with his whip.

The whip roared with the sound of rushing wind, powerful as a stampeding bull; the spear flashed with starlight, dancing like a fiery dragon. Their duel entered a fever pitch from the outset, steel and shadow mingling, sparks flying with each exchange.

Within the circle of battle, Ye Pei grew anxious—not for lack of skill, but because Feng Tanyang’s strength was overwhelming. Though his own superb footwork and spearplay let him evade most of the blows, taking even a third of those crushing strikes was enough to leave his arms aching, the flesh between thumb and forefinger burning with pain.

Chen Mo, watching from the side, saw nothing amiss—he thought Ye Pei and Feng Tanyang were evenly matched. But Huang Jifeng discerned the truth.

After several more rounds, Huang Jifeng quietly drew his sword, voice grave. “No, Ye Pei is going to lose!”

Chen Mo was puzzled. “What? Isn’t Brother Ye pressing the attack?”

Huang Jifeng prepared to leap in at the first chance. “It seems like that, but in truth, Feng Tanyang’s speed matches Ye Pei’s, and he’s much stronger. Ye Pei’s been relying on superior technique, but the man has natural strength—he’s overpowering skill with raw force. I never imagined the eldest son of the Feng family would be so formidable.”

Within the fray, Ye Pei, after a failed attempt to break through, was driven back by a whip strike, forced to retreat. Huang Jifeng rushed in to block the next attack.

Seeing this, Feng Tanyang stepped back, touched the shallow spear wound on his belly, and laughed. “What’s this, ganging up on me?”

Ye Pei’s pride flared at the taunt. Though usually calm and steady, he was not immune to such provocations.

“Brother Huang, step aside.”

“You can’t win,” Huang Jifeng insisted.

“I’m not hurt—he is,” Ye Pei said stubbornly.

“You’ve already exhausted yourself!” Huang Jifeng cried.

Ye Pei pulled him aside. “No matter what, this is my fight.”

Huang Jifeng had no choice but to retreat and watch.

Ye Pei slowly shortened Deep Snow to a dagger, deciding on a radical shift—though short weapons were not his forte, since the spear had failed, it was time for risk. Perhaps that would turn the tide.

His earlier claim—“he’s wounded, I’m not”—was self-deception. Though he’d landed a hit, it was superficial; meanwhile, his own internal energy was greatly depleted, affecting his condition.

Internal energy, though it could boost one’s abilities immensely, had a drawback: once exhausted, it left the spirit flagging. Feng Tanyang, relying solely on physical might, held the advantage in a war of attrition.

Ye Pei didn’t know exactly how much longer he could hold out, but he estimated—if he couldn’t defeat Feng Tanyang within a quarter of an hour, the fight was lost.

The battle resumed.

Feng Tanyang’s steel whip remained as forceful as ever. Whether or not he was truly unscathed, Ye Pei’s speed, if anything, seemed to have increased, but in truth, it was his final burst before collapse.

Previously, Feng Tanyang could keep up with Ye Pei’s speed, but now he struggled—he too was tiring after so much exertion. In Ye Pei’s sudden assault, Feng Tanyang was forced on the defensive. No defense, however tight, is flawless. After several rounds, Ye Pei’s dagger found an opening and drove straight for Feng Tanyang’s heart.

“Die!” Ye Pei bellowed, the force of his blade so intense that the killing intent alone seemed to pierce Feng Tanyang’s skin.

Feng Tanyang’s hair stood on end, pupils narrowing to pinpoints. With a sudden twist, he swung his steel whip in a crushing blow at Ye Pei—

“Thud—” Ye Pei took the whip full to the chest, spat blood, and was sent flying, Deep Snow clattering to the ground. He rolled, landing on one knee, one hand bracing himself, the other clutching his chest and abdomen.

“Luckily, I used the last of my internal energy to protect my chest and belly—just some fractured bones, otherwise that might have cost me my life…”

But now, with his energy spent, Ye Pei could scarcely mount another attack. His head throbbed, his vision doubled; while not completely blind, he was nearly incapacitated.

Across from him, Feng Tanyang was also bleeding profusely from the chest and abdomen, but still had the strength to approach, steel whip in hand, his voice eerily calm.

“Impressive. At your age, to have such skill—if I were your peer, I’d never beat you.”

Huang Jifeng immediately darted in to shield Ye Pei.

“Brother Huang, step aside,” Ye Pei said. Thanks to the unique qualities of The Formula, he’d recovered a little after a few breaths.

“Don’t push yourself!” Huang Jifeng urged.

“It’s nothing. Move aside.” Ye Pei slowly stood, pulling Huang Jifeng aside and facing Feng Tanyang. “Do you want to kill me? Then come.”

Feng Tanyang hesitated, unsure where Ye Pei’s newfound confidence came from.

“What’s wrong? My weapon’s lying on the ground over there, and now you don’t dare approach?”

Blood still trickled from Ye Pei’s lips, but Feng Tanyang’s eyes sharpened as he raised his whip and charged.

Ye Pei, unarmed, smiled undaunted, paying no heed to the approaching steel whip.

Huang Jifeng had expected Ye Pei to have another trick, but seeing no movement at all, he froze. By the time he realized Ye Pei wasn’t going to act, it was already too late for him to intervene.

Chen Mo’s gaze was complicated. His gift told him Ye Pei’s fate was resilient, and Ye Pei’s own calm suggested confidence, but he made no move—so where did this certainty come from?

At that moment, everything changed.

In the tomb chamber bathed in pale moonlight, a blinding sword light erupted, cleaving between Ye Pei and Feng Tanyang in an instant—

The sound of steel whip fragments clattering to the ground rang in Feng Tanyang’s ears, jarringly sharp and clear…