Chapter Seventy-Nine: One Step Behind

The two assassins were completely oblivious, and at this moment, it was impossible to say whether they were beasts or men; both roared as they charged at Ye Feng. Who could have anticipated that their plan would be uncovered so early? The anger in Ye Feng’s heart was beyond words. Now, the two assassins, ignorant of their fate, threw themselves at him again. In terms of cultivation, Ye Feng was by no means their equal, but when it came to the art of killing, the pair couldn’t hold a candle to him.

Ye Feng’s aura surged to its peak. With a swift step, he executed the “Dragon’s Glide,” leaving only a blurred afterimage behind, unleashing a momentum as overwhelming as a tidal wave. His spiritual power erupted, enveloping him in a haze of golden flame. At this point, he had no interest in hiding his strength.

He unleashed the Dragon Capture technique again and again, each blow delivered full force, while the Demon King’s inner core ceaselessly replenished his spiritual energy. Unparalleled explosive power shook the nearby trees, causing them to splinter and collapse. There was no finesse here, only a barrage of raw, potent spiritual energy.

Thunderous booms resounded, dazzling rays of power surged forth like a mighty flood. Ye Feng’s purpose was simple: to batter his foes into submission before considering his next move. He was not foolish enough to face two Spirit Emperors head-on.

“Courting death!” Not far off, two Ye Mansion scouts swiftly entered the fray, immediately joining the attack against the assassins.

“You take one; the other is mine!” Second Brother Ye was furious, eager to vent his rage with his own hands.

Upon hearing this, Ah Xue merely cast Ye Feng a surprised glance, then joined his companions in besieging the other assassin.

“One-on-one—I'll devour you alive!” Ye Feng drew his long blade, exuding murderous intent like a war god.

The assassin laughed at these words. To him, Ye Feng’s actions were no different from seeking death. No matter how talented he might be, the gap in cultivation was insurmountable.

With a swift movement, the assassin’s sword conjured a giant wolf’s head that lunged forward. He knew he stood no chance of survival today, so he opened with a killing strike.

“Good! Dragon Slash!” Ye Feng shouted, his spiritual energy rapidly converging. A blade aura three or four yards long burst forth, crashing into the wolf’s head conjured by the assassin.

In the next instant, a tremendous force exploded, brilliant light surging like rolling waves, sweeping in all directions. Amid the deafening roar, swathes of trees shattered, dead branches and leaves swirling wildly, while distant trees trembled and swayed.

A wild aura flooded the area; the Dragon Slash, Ye Feng’s own creation, was all about overwhelming strength and dominance. Though his cultivation was inferior to the assassin’s, the power of his technique and the constant infusion of spiritual energy placed him nearly on equal footing. Moreover, the assassin was already wounded from the earlier barrage of Dragon Capture strikes.

Colliding head-on, the assassin’s body was sent flying uncontrollably. His massive frame, nearly two meters tall, gleamed with blue-yellow light, collapsing the hut behind him with a heavy crash.

Ye Feng, wreathed in golden flames, seemed more like an ancient, raging beast than a man, even when compared to the berserk assassin. His eyes shone with wild light, his black hair swirling around him as he strode forward. Each step left a deep imprint in the earth, as if a giant was moving, exuding an intimidating aura that sent chills through all who witnessed it.

The farmhouse was unusually silent. After dispatching their foes, the Ye Mansion scouts watched Ye Feng, their expressions perplexed, listening to his thunderous footsteps.

Hidden deep in the distant mountains, Feng Ran’s face was filled with shock. None understood the terror of the remaining four assassins more than he did—that was why he had left them for last. Although all were Spirit Emperor level, he considered himself no match for any of them. Not long ago, he had personally witnessed the four besiege and slaughter a peak sixth-tier demon beast; they were like invincible monsters.

And yet, one so powerful had been battered and suppressed by a mere youth, using only raw spiritual power—a feat almost beyond belief. The path of overwhelming force required a difference in cultivation!

At this moment, Feng Ran etched Ye Feng’s wild, dominant figure deep into his memory. This was a formidable and terrifying opponent, destined to be the greatest obstacle to the Holy Land’s advance into the Tianwu Empire.

A furious roar erupted—the defeated assassin, enraged, charged out from the ruined hut like a wounded beast. What had just happened was a humiliation: to be sent flying by a Spirit King-level cultivator!

His fierce, wild aura surged as he charged at Ye Feng, scarlet spiritual power sweeping aside all obstacles. The massive wolf shadow enveloped him, growing clearer with each step, accompanying him in his assault. Violent, murderous energy spread across the land.

Ye Feng also let out a low growl, his upright figure seemingly cast from steel, radiating an unconquerable force. His black hair whipped wildly about. In the next moment, the golden flames encasing his body, as if guided, swiftly flowed into his long blade.

A dragon’s cry echoed through the void as all the golden fire merged into the blade. Ye Feng gripped it with both hands, swinging it to unleash dazzling rays of light. The terrifying energy surged and roared like an angry sea. A gigantic dragon, radiant with golden brilliance, shot forth from the blade, racing toward his opponent.

The Ye Mansion scouts moved like lightning, leaving afterimages as they retreated. They knew well the power of this attack—it rivaled the full-force strike of a mid-tier Spirit Emperor.

A violent energy storm shattered everything nearby, as if a chaotic thunderstorm had swept through. Branches and leaves flew everywhere, and huge rocks exploded under the blinding light.

The terrifying turbulence billowed, the dazzling light blazed like the sun at noon. In the distance, the scouts were left aghast; they had never imagined their young master could be so fierce, like a war god descended to earth.

The wind died, the dust settled. Everywhere was devastation.

Ye Feng, weakened, waved his hand. “Two of you, go check the hut for anything useful.”

Soon, two scouts emerged carrying the lifeless Seventh Prince. One handed Ye Feng a sheepskin scroll, his expression complex.

Taking the scroll, Ye Feng smiled. “After the ancient ruins, I’ll wait for you in Saint Lun.”

With a grim face, Ye Feng tucked the scroll away and turned to leave. He had to admit, this time, he was defeated.