Chapter Forty-Nine: Boiling

Fist after fist was thrown, holding nothing back. In Ye Feng’s mind, scenes from that rainy night flashed ceaselessly—the sturdy figure of his father, his mother’s heart-wrenching cries. All of this was wrought by the power known as the Holy Land. Now, his strength was insignificant, unable to take vengeance on the true murderers with his own hands. But among the younger generation of the Holy Land, he would slaughter them all—even if lightning should strike him from above, he would not hesitate.

With a sickening sound, Mu Tong spat a mouthful of blood, utterly bereft of strength to resist. Blood drenched his entire body, staining the ground beneath him a deep red. With a thud, Ye Feng hurled Mu Tong high into the air with one hand, then struck him rapidly with his fists.

Each golden fist rained down, and with each blow, a spray of blood mist burst from Mu Tong, making it unbearable for many below to watch. Among the onlookers, even the youths of the Heavenly Martial Empire began to shake their heads, the initial excitement long since faded. Clearly, these inexperienced young men found such brutality disturbing.

Yet, as they felt pity, had any of them spared a thought for the youths of the Eighteen Cities who had been slaughtered? Had they considered the parents who had once lived in peace, only to be plunged into utter despair upon learning of their children’s deaths?

Regardless of their sentiments, Ye Feng’s heart was devoid of mercy. He did not act for the world, only for his vengeance, collecting interest on the blood debt owed him.

If innocence was to be spoken of, the youths of the Eighteen Cities were truly the innocent ones.

With a final resounding blow, Mu Tong’s massive body crashed to the earth. By then, every bone in his body had been shattered beyond repair, and his breath was faint, life slipping away.

In a distant pavilion, the black-clad maiden’s eyes shone with admiration. Far from finding Ye Feng’s actions repugnant, she saw in him the qualities of a true hero.

On the other side, the young man leading the Holy Land’s contingent stood, his face dark as thunder. “You will die.”

“There’s no need for words—come fight!” Ye Feng gazed at the young man, his fighting spirit ablaze. He was no arrogant fool; from this man, he felt unprecedented pressure. This powerful opponent was truly formidable. Today, he might well be facing mortal danger. Yet, he had no regrets.

Leaping onto the platform, the young man said expressionlessly, “Remember, the one who kills you is named Fera.”

Before Ye Feng could respond, Fera struck with a casual punch. His movements were slow, his fist advancing as if through thick water, but the oppressive force was as sharp as a blade, making even the distant spectators feel a stinging pain on their cheeks.

Ahead of the fist, a mighty gale surged; dark-red spiritual power like surging waves crashed toward Ye Feng, an unstoppable momentum.

This was a true master—at least among the younger generation, one rarely found his equal. Ye Feng felt pressure as never before. Though Fera’s dark-red fist moved slowly, it sealed off every avenue of retreat.

If he dared dodge, the fist—brimming with unimaginable power—would surely accelerate in an instant and deliver a fatal blow. There was not a single flaw, not a gap to escape through; this was a fist from which there was no retreat.

“You wish to return the humiliation just dealt to you? Very well, I will grant your wish!”

Within his body, the Demon King’s Core began to spin, vast spiritual power flooding into Ye Feng, restoring him instantly to his peak. Golden energy surged, and gauntlets appeared, enveloping his fists once more.

Dragon-Seizing Fist!

Without hesitation, Ye Feng struck. The pressure was immense; he had no choice but to meet it head-on. Fera was forcing him to this.

From this alone, it was clear—Fera was a domineering figure, determined to defeat his opponents even in their own domains. From the start, he forced Ye Feng into a contest of raw power.

Golden energy surged from Ye Feng’s fists, the faint sound of a dragon’s roar echoing as the power surged forward with overwhelming momentum.

All who watched were astounded. The youths of the capital had long heard of the Ye family’s Dragon-Seizing technique, but seeing it with their own eyes now left them utterly shocked.

Fera’s eyes shot with blinding light. His slowly advancing right fist suddenly exploded forward with lightning speed. The dark-red waves rose higher, threatening to engulf everything, becoming a tangible, blood-colored tsunami.

With an earth-shaking roar, the golden dragon fist collided with the crimson waves.

The ground quaked violently, and the audience hurriedly retreated. Cracks split the earth, spreading far afield.

Above, the sky became a raging storm of gold and crimson, like a furious dragon howling in a sea of blood.

“Look! The arena is collapsing!” someone cried.

Outside the field, many stepped back in alarm. In this earth-shattering clash, even the so-called “Berserker” martial platform—reputed to withstand Spirit Sovereign-level combat—crumbled in an instant. Great stones tumbled and were ground to dust by the raging storm.

It was as if an earthquake had struck. The savage waves surged in all directions, shattering all in their path.

After exchanging one fierce blow, Ye Feng and Fera fought like lightning in the midst of blinding gold and terrifying blood-red waves.

Within the storm, afterimages flickered; the two seemed like ancient beasts, colliding fiercely again and again.

Even hundreds of meters away, the sounds of battle thundered through the storm.

When the tempest faded, the two stood motionless at the center, eyes locked unblinking on each other. Fera’s expression remained unchanged, as calm as before.

Ye Feng, however, was filled with fighting spirit. He had just faced grave danger—this man was simply too strong, and he had nearly been overwhelmed by that savage, relentless assault.

Had it not been for the unmatched power of his Dragon-Seizing Fist, had he not advanced to the mid-stage innate realm, had the Demon King’s Core not provided him endless spiritual power, he would already be a corpse.

Yet, facing such an opponent, he felt no fear. On the contrary, his blood burned hotter than ever; his fighting spirit had been ignited.

Fera’s face remained impassive. He slowly extended another fist. “Eight Desolations Collapse—eight punches in all. I have mastered the first four. If you withstand them, I lose.”

A new storm erupted between Ye Feng and Fera, the earth surging like a tidal wave, bearing down upon Ye Feng.

With a hum, Ye Feng reached out, condensing a golden longsword. He stood unmoving, facing the roaring tidal wave of earth. The Demon King’s Core within him spun rapidly, immense power pouring into the blade.

In the blink of an eye, the golden energy blade grew to nearly ten feet, its dazzling light seeming to cleave the heavens.

It was an immature sword technique, one he had derived from the Dragon-Seizing Fist.

“Cleave for me!”

With a thunderous roar, the violent clash resumed, dust billowing skyward. The golden blade, nearly ten feet long, flashed with radiant arcs as, accompanied by the clear sound of a dragon’s roar, it slashed into the oncoming tidal wave.

With a shattering sound, the blade splintered in an instant. Yet the surging wave of earth was also cleaved in two and swiftly calmed.

Amid the swirling dust, Ye Feng retreated rapidly, but Fera closed in at once, his fist lashing out again!