Led by the burly man in the gray robe, the Haotian Sect disciples did not wait for Chen Feng but instead burst forward, speeding toward the rear of the village.
Though none of them had released their martial spirits, at their cultivation level, their speed alone was astonishing once unleashed.
The gray-robed man glanced sideways at Chen Feng out of the corner of his eye, only to discover that the latter was strolling along as if on a leisurely walk, without the slightest strain.
A flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes. Though he had no idea who this black-clad stranger was, whenever the wind brushed aside the veil beneath his hat, it revealed a young face much younger than his own. For one of such age to possess such strength, it was no wonder he carried himself so arrogantly.
The gray-robed man clenched his teeth, increasing his speed even further, as though intent on testing Chen Feng, perhaps even forcing him into some embarrassment.
The wind whistled as it split apart around him, his robe snapping loudly in the gale.
But it was pointless. Chen Feng still kept up without the slightest difficulty. On the contrary, it was the dozen Haotian Sect disciples following behind who began to fall farther and farther away.
They exchanged helpless looks, each shaking his head with a bitter smile before gritting their teeth and pouring even more spirit power into their bodies to accelerate.
Just then, they suddenly felt their bodies lighten. Looking up in alarm, they saw the young face beneath the black veil watching them calmly.
"Too slow. Let me quicken things up for you."
With those words, a majestic tide of spirit power surged outward. In an instant, the entire group—including the gray-robed man himself—was lifted and propelled forward, their speed increased severalfold in a heartbeat.
Unfurling his sword-like wings, Chen Feng gave a single flap, and with it, he carried the entire party hundreds of meters into the air.
The sudden change in perspective made the disciples cry out in shock, their hearts pounding wildly. Even the battle-hardened gray-robed man felt his chest tighten, as though crushed by an invisible mountain.
Looking once more at Chen Feng's back, he felt as if the figure before him towered like an unscalable mountain peak.
It wasn't long before they left the small village behind.
Ahead loomed a towering mountain peak, sheer and steep, its walls smooth as if carved by an axe.
This was the first natural barrier of the Haotian Sect. Without at least the cultivation of a Soul Sect, climbing it would be impossible.
Carrying the disciples with ease, Chen Feng soared across the cliff in the blink of an eye.
Behind it, range after range of mountains stretched on for more than a dozen layers, each one as sheer and perilous as the last.
Any army attempting to breach these defenses would be bled dry by exhaustion long before it could reach the core. If the sect deployed defenses atop each ridge, even an enemy force ten times the size of the Haotian Sect might still fail to invade.
"A fine shell for a pack of turtles," Chen Feng muttered with disdain. He wasn't speaking of all Haotian disciples—men like Tang Hao were worthy of respect, even fear.
But the sect's retreat had come at a heavy price. By withdrawing into seclusion to preserve their core lineage, had they spared a thought for their vassal clans?
When the Haotian Sect withdrew, those affiliated clans became little more than punching bags for Spirit Hall, each one suffering bitterly.
And when Haotian Sect eventually returned to the world, who would still be willing—or daring—to follow them?
Could such a sect still be the Haotian Sect of old?
Lost in thought, Chen Feng easily carried the group over each mountain barrier. What was meant to be a series of deadly choke points was no more than a casual stroll to him.
Crossing the final gorge, nearly a thousand meters wide, Chen Feng set the disciples down on solid ground.
The moment their feet touched earth again, relief washed over them. The gray-robed man in particular let out a long breath, though his eyes now carried a mix of reverence and dread as they lingered on Chen Feng.
Yet even as awe took root, unease followed—had they brought disaster upon the sect by leading such a mysterious powerhouse straight to their gates? With the Chief Elder Token in his possession, a reshuffling of power among the elders was inevitable.
But the gray-robed man soon consoled himself. With Chen Feng's strength, even without a guide, finding the Haotian Sect would have been as easy as drinking water. The very act of arriving through him was perhaps a deliberate gesture of courtesy.
As for the matter of internal power struggles?
Let the elders worry about that!
After all, the records in the sect archives clearly stated that the Chief Elder Token was once held by the sect's founder, the ninety-ninth-rank Peerless Douluo, the first Clear Sky Douluo—Tang Chen himself. Whoever the old master entrusted it to, there must have been a reason far beyond his own understanding.
The wind howled across a cliffside path, carrying with it biting snow. Behind Chen Feng lay an endless abyss, while before him loomed a massive stone fortress, its gates rising five meters high.
Though not as grand as Spirit Hall's Pope's Palace, the sheer weight of stone lent it a solid and unshakable aura.
Above the gates, three massive characters were carved in stone—majestic, domineering, and brimming with a momentum that stood defiant even against the surrounding mountains:
Haotian Sect.
At the gate, two guards in gray robes bowed respectfully to the returning gray-robed man, but their gazes lingered on Chen Feng with suspicion.
"Please present the sect's identification token."
"Ahem…"
The gray-robed man stepped forward awkwardly, his voice caught between respect and unease. "Forget it. This man… is an honored guest. Hurry and report to the Sect Master and the Elders. Prepare to receive him properly."
The guards looked at Chen Feng in surprise, but said nothing, merely nodding.
Chen Feng, who had remained silent the entire time, suddenly stepped forward, his voice calm yet cold.
"Why go through such formalities? As Chief Elder, am I expected to go knocking on doors one by one? What nonsense."
"Have them all come out to meet me—now!"
With that, Chen Feng let out a sharp whistle. It wasn't loud, but it carried a penetrating force.
In an instant, the sound reverberated through the entire Haotian Sect.
Almost immediately, several answering howls resounded, echoing in unison.
Five black-robed elders soared into the sky, rushing toward the gates.
A deep, thunderous roar followed, and with it rose an incomparably burly figure. His aura resembled that of an ancient beast, towering and oppressive like a mountain.
Outside the sect, the gray-robed man paled, retreating several steps in shock. "This is bad! The Sect Master and Elders must think we're under attack!"
Even as he spoke, a streak of black light tore across the sky. A colossal hammer appeared, its head as large as a hill, spanning nearly a hundred meters.
A black spirit ring flashed once, and the hammer came crashing down.
"I don't care who you are! If you dare offend the Haotian Sect, you'll have to get through me first!"
It was the True Body of the Clear Sky Hammer, unleashed in all its destructive might.
The gray-robed man knew instantly that things had gone terribly wrong. He turned and fled with the other disciples, terrified that even the aftershocks of such a blow would annihilate them.
Chen Feng, however, stood firm, utterly unshaken by the overwhelming might pressing down upon him.
His right arm glowed faintly as he began to chant:
Through centuries of wind and frost, all is tempered into one blade.
When this sword is drawn, it severs the very heavens!