"Of course it's you!" Feng Youming narrowed his eyes, the suspicion in his heart finally settling into certainty. From the very first meeting, this woman had given him an oddly unsettling feeling. Seeing her here now was not entirely surprising.
But standing beside Song Wanníng were three other cultivators at the Divine Transformation stage.
In that instant, Feng Youming's heart tightened. He might look down on the outsiders, but these were four genuine Divine Transformation experts. How could he possibly fight them all alone?
"What is the meaning of this?"
Feigning ignorance, Feng Youming secretly sent a message to his clan patriarch, only to find it blocked by the surrounding formation.
His face darkened, a chill of impending disaster settling over him.
"Feng Youming, even now you want to keep pretending?"
Song Wanníng's expression was cold, her lips curving with a glint of frost. Speaking his name made Feng Youming stiffen once again.
"How do you know my name?"
Who exactly was this woman?
Sweat dampened the hand gripping his spear, and his heartbeat turned erratic.
"I not only know your name," Song Wanníng said, her voice faintly mocking, "I know exactly why you came here. These past days, watching you strut around the city like a performing clown has been most entertaining."
She covered her mouth and let out a soft laugh.
That laugh struck Feng Youming like a spike to the chest.
This damned woman—she had been toying with him all along. He had thought his plan flawless, certain that he had Song Wanníng dancing in the palm of his hand. Who could have imagined he was the fool being led around?
The thought of all the running about he had done to mislead others made him want to cough blood.
Utter humiliation.
Never in his life had Feng Youming been shamed like this. And worse—had their secret been exposed?
How could she possibly know both his name and the matter of the dragon vein?
Questions tangled together, boiling in his mind until frustration threatened to spill over. But he forced himself to calm. She was deliberately trying to provoke him, and he would not give her the satisfaction.
"You are indeed clever," he said slowly, "but so what? The Song clan is doomed regardless. If you have any sense, submit to the Feng clan and hand over your ancestral lands. I might plead with the patriarch to spare your lives."
His gaze grew heavier, though in truth he still held the same disdain for outer-world humans as before—especially a clan as rootless as the Songs.
That contempt was plain in his eyes, and Song Huai could not help but laugh in fury.
Where had this lunatic come from? Surrounded on all sides, and still putting on airs?
"Enough talking. Kill him."
With a sharp shout, Song Huai charged into the formation.
Song Qingyun and Mu Yuan followed close behind, striking the moment they stepped within.
Feng Youming's eyes turned fierce. He spat on the ground and counterattacked. His heart was in chaos, but pride would never allow him to beg for mercy.
Song Wanníng remained outside the formation, a shadowy smile curling on her lips.
Hidden by the valley's edge, Yu Cheng involuntarily shivered. That smile… it looked almost exactly like the one she had worn when shoving Ye Chuxue into the Heavenly Thunder Tribulation.
And who was this Feng Youming, exactly?
To provoke all four Divine Transformation cultivators of the Song clan—he was surely courting death.
Yu Cheng quietly drew back his hands. This was a battle he had no right to join. Better to focus on maintaining the formation. A rare chance to repay a debt—he couldn't afford to mess it up.
Inside the formation, the clash between the combatants erupted with explosive force. Song Huai, a peak Divine Transformation cultivator, unleashed power that shook heaven and earth.
Though Mu Yuan and Song Qingyun had only recently broken through, their strength was formidable, and three-on-one gave Feng Youming no room to breathe.
Within just a few exchanges, Feng Youming had already fallen to a disadvantage. Anxiety mounting, he tried once more to contact his patriarch even as he parried their strikes.
Song Huai snorted coldly, swinging his meteor hammer with all his strength. A spectral wolf-eagle manifested, eyes like blades, and dove straight at Feng Youming.
The messenger talisman Feng Youming had just released was swallowed whole by the wolf-eagle before it even reached the formation's edge.
A heartbeat later, the beast spat it out—engulfed in searing flames—which singed away half of Feng Youming's hair before he could dodge.
Mu Yuan and Song Qingyun's next wave of attacks struck immediately. Feng Youming barely had time to glance at the damage before whipping his spear to meet them.
Meanwhile, his left hand formed rapid seals, lips moving in an incantation. In moments, a storm of whirling winds rose around him, like a localized spatial tempest, wrapping him in its protection.
With his mutated wind spiritual root, he was one of his clan's foremost masters of wind control.
"Go!"
At his shout, countless cyclones tore toward the three attackers.
The formation's interior descended into chaos as the unleashed spiritual energy churned wildly.
Song Wanníng's brow furrowed slightly. Thankfully, the formation would contain the disturbance; without it, the uproar would have drawn others here in an instant—and exposed the matter of the spiritual vein.
Her gaze hardened. In the blink of an eye, she appeared inside the formation.
The moment she arrived, she unleashed Ten Thousand Arrows at Once.
Countless spiritual swords burst forth like fireworks, striking from every conceivable angle.
The Shenyou Mystic Flame surged after them, while her golden miniature sword transformed into a dragon and lunged at him.
The relentless combination left Feng Youming's pupils contracting sharply. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out a Peacock Feather.
A flick of his wrist, and a seven-colored radiance flared. With a single flash, it absorbed every spiritual sword, swallowing them without a trace. The same happened to the others' attacks—they vanished as though into a bottomless sea.
But the Shenyou Mystic Flame pressed on, and Feng Youming felt a sudden stabbing pain in his Primordial Soul. He hissed under his breath, brow knitting.
His gaze locked onto the flame, brightening with dangerous greed.
"The Shenyou Mystic Flame… how could such a priceless strange fire be in this woman's possession?"
But the thought lasted only an instant. Right now, survival was already beyond his grasp, let alone seizing the flame.
In the next moment, Song Huai's attack came crashing down.
Feng Youming moved to counter, but a Tai Chi diagram of black and white light appeared out of nowhere.
It hurtled toward him at frightening speed.
He swung the Peacock Feather to absorb it while raising his spear to meet Song Huai's strike.
But before he could react, the Tai Chi diagram slipped past the Peacock Feather entirely, striking him head-on.
An invisible pressure clamped down over his body, forcing him to his knees.
At that same instant, Song Huai's blow landed.
With a loud thud, Feng Youming was driven to kneel.
Mu Yuan's blade came cleaving down toward his head.
Eyes wide with fury, he twisted violently, rolling away at the last moment.
The great blade bit into his lower leg, severing it cleanly. Blood spattered across the dirt, mixing with dust.
Gritting his teeth, he staggered backward and shoved a pill into his mouth.
By now, his body was covered in wounds.