Chapter Thirty-Two: Mistaken Identity

"Brother Feng, look over there!" The speaker was a beautiful woman in white, her feet resting lightly on golden-feathered talismans. This time, under the command of their master, the core disciples of the Four Peaks of the Hundred Flowers Sect had all descended the mountain, splitting into pairs to hunt down Yin Chaozong with all their might. Whether by coincidence or fate, the woman in white had been paired with Feng Yiyuan, and together they were investigating the eastern reaches of the Qiyun mountains, within Qian State's Chen Prefecture.

"Alright, let's see what's going on!" Feng Yiyuan's eyes lit up, and he soared away on his Ziyang Sword in a howling streak.

With their flying treasures in hand, a journey of a thousand miles took but a few heartbeats. Standing atop the clouds and witnessing the tragic scene below, even they could not help but be moved. At the edge of this desolate wasteland, countless villagers, dressed in mourning, wept bitterly in their grief.

The two exchanged a look, then descended through the clouds on their swords. Feng Yiyuan found a local farmer and inquired about the situation. Having learned what had transpired, the pair took to the sky once more, pursuing eastward.

On a country road, Yin Chaozong, wearing a straw hat, slowly made his way toward Chen Prefecture, leading a gray donkey. Perched rigidly atop the donkey was Lin Feng, whose body was so stiff that only his eyes could move.

"Boy, though the road to Chen Prefecture is not long, we must be cautious every step of the way. Who knows, perhaps those self-righteous hypocrites of the so-called righteous path are already searching for the two of us," Yin Chaozong rambled on endlessly as they traveled. Though Lin Feng could not speak, he gleaned much useful information.

As it turned out, Yin Chaozong was the second son of Yin Shitian, known in the demonic world as the supreme master "Ghost Daoist," and founder of the Ghost Valley Sect. Two hundred years ago, after Yin Shitian ascended to immortality atop Elephant Mountain, the sect he established began to wane, his position as master usurped and his eldest son Yin Chaoyang murdered. To avoid disaster, Yin Chaozong wandered the world, collecting rare herbs and spirit materials, hoping one day to forge a Golden Meridian Body and, by mastering the Devouring Yin Corpse Art, restore his father's former glory and reclaim the Ghost Valley's throne.

Yin Chaozong, having seen the worst of humanity, was cautious in all things, never acting without absolute certainty. Even his rescue of Lin Feng had been preceded by much deliberation, only for him to finally unleash the Corpse Emperor's Poison in secret and annihilate the bandits in a single stroke. Perhaps this was the one good deed of his entire life.

"Boy, if not for your courage, I would never have intervened. Ah, to think that the Yin family has come to this—only I remain, no children, no descendants. If fate allows, I will marry and father some sons, to carry on the Yin bloodline."

Lin Feng nearly burst out laughing. This old thing, hundreds of years old, still dreaming of marriage—he looked frightening enough to scare anyone away!

"You must be laughing at me in your heart, aren’t you? Just wait. When I find a mountain cave, I’ll refine you into an Iron Corpse. Then you won’t be able to laugh, even if you want to." Yin Chaozong snorted, slapping the donkey’s rump. The gray beast let out a long bray and galloped off, nearly jostling all the bones out of Lin Feng’s body.

The old demon cackled, but at that moment, a cold voice sounded out of thin air: "You really have time for idle pleasures, don’t you?"

This calm voice echoed from the heavens, and Yin Chaozong’s face changed dramatically. He pulled out a Thousand-Mile Escape Talisman, ready to flee.

"Useless. I have already laid down the Celestial Spirit-Locking Array. Where can you run?" The voice was flat and cold, yet it left Yin Chaozong drenched in sweat. He would never forget this voice as long as he lived—it belonged to the Red-Haired Patriarch Pei Zan, the very man who had murdered his elder brother Yin Chaoyang and seized the Ghost Valley’s throne!

Even if Yin Chaozong had already forged a Golden Meridian Body and mastered the Devouring Yin Corpse Art, he would still be no match for Pei Zan, who had reached the late Gold Core stage.

Pale as death, Yin Chaozong roared at the sky, "Red-Haired Fiend, if you have the guts, show yourself!"

"Ha ha ha! Frightened, are you?" Pei Zan remained hidden, exerting immense pressure on Yin Chaozong, stringing him along as a cat would a mouse.

"Bah! I’ll tear you to pieces! Show yourself!" The old demon shrieked in fury, summoning his treasure—the Dragon-Patterned Soul-Locking Chain.

This chain, forged from blacksteel and tempered in Li River’s waters, was adorned with dragon scales. When wielded, it resembled a black dragon bursting from the abyss—hence its name.

Yin Chaozong stood tense, fully alert. The donkey, carrying Lin Feng, had not gone far before stopping to munch on grass by the roadside, oblivious to the impending disaster. Lin Feng, sitting helplessly on its back, was filled with anxiety.

"Yin Chaozong, today you’ll join your dead brother!" From the sky, Pei Zan revealed himself—a cloak of red hair, empty hands, a square face and broad mouth, unremarkable in appearance.

"Die!" Confronted with his brother’s killer, Yin Chaozong knew there would be no escape. He unleashed his desperate technique, "Soul-Crushing Blood Shadow!"

The last of his blood boiled, and in a heartbeat, blood pearls burst from his pores, rapidly coalescing into a blood-man that charged at the red-haired patriarch. At the same time, his soul-locking chain grew several times in size, attacking Pei Zan from another direction. Yin Chaozong rapidly wove several incantations, silently spreading Corpse Emperor’s Poison and Corrupting Spirit Powder into the air.

In the blink of an eye, the old demon had unleashed all his sinister tricks; Lin Feng could barely keep up with the dizzying spectacle.

Pei Zan’s eyes narrowed, a cold light flashing in his pupils. With a thunderous shout, "Break!"

It was as if thunder exploded in the heavens. The sky suddenly darkened, and a blood-red light churned above their heads. A wild force smashed down on Yin Chaozong, who could only grunt before collapsing, limp, to the earth.

"Hmph! Yin Chaozong, do you really think your little tricks can match me?" Pei Zan sneered, already gripping the soul-locking chain with one hand and seizing the blood shadow with the other, refining it with demonic fire on the spot.

"Ah—even in death, I won’t forgive you!" Yin Chaozong writhed in agony on the ground, the blood shadow entirely formed from his essence; now he had to endure the pain of his very soul being scorched.

Lin Feng was both shocked and angry. For all his faults, Yin Chaozong had once saved his life. The red-cloaked demon’s methods were ruthlessly cruel, and Lin Feng found himself hating him even more.

"Fiend, face your doom!" Just then, Feng Yiyuan arrived first, riding his sword; three streaks of purple sword-qi thundered forth.

"Hmm? Where did this brat come from?" The red-haired patriarch’s face darkened. He swallowed the blood shadow in one gulp and unleashed his own treasure—the Flying Smoke Sword!

With a deafening crash, the first two streaks of purple sword-qi struck the invisible Celestial Spirit-Locking Array, bursting in midair with dazzling halos. The third streak plunged straight for Pei Zan’s brow.

With a headlong clash, the Flying Smoke Sword met the purple sword-qi in midair. Purple and gray energies collided fiercely, and a blast of force swept overhead. Startled, the donkey bolted, and Lin Feng, unable to keep his seat, tumbled heavily to the ground.

"Who are you?" With just one exchange, both men gauged each other’s strength. Pei Zan’s expression grew serious; this young man’s cultivation rivaled his own—if they fought in earnest, the outcome was uncertain.

"Feng Yiyuan of the Hundred Flowers Sect! Yin Chaozong, surrender at once!" Feng Yiyuan did not recognize Yin Chaozong and assumed Pei Zan was the medicine thief they were after.

"So, the Hundred Flowers Sect! Here, the man you want is over there. I won’t keep you company any longer!" The red-robed patriarch mounted his sword and fled. Having gravely wounded Yin Chaozong, and with a Hundred Flowers disciple present, there would be no good end for him if he lingered.

"Stop right there, Yin Chaozong, you old ghost! Take my sword!" Feng Yiyuan shouted, sending the Ziyang Sword slashing at the departing demon. The red-robed patriarch, furious, countered with another blast of sword-qi. With a thunderous crash, the swords collided once more, and Pei Zan wheeled away, fleeing into the distance.

Feng Yiyuan was not about to let him escape. With a deft maneuver, the two of them were soon dueling a hundred miles away.

Just then, another figure approached through the air. Lin Feng squinted and recognized the white-robed maiden who had saved him from the steel whip—the very one who piloted the Lotus Boat at the opening of the Hidden Pavilion.

Lin Feng wanted to call out, but no sound came. Suddenly, Yin Chaozong sprang up from the ground, seized him, and fled. The white-robed maiden frowned and quickly extended her spiritual sense, searching the area.

Pale as a corpse, the old demon carried Lin Feng a thousand miles before collapsing in a clump of grass, barely breathing—he seemed on the verge of death.

"Boy, I don’t have much time left... If you agree to one thing, I’ll... I’ll lift your restriction. Otherwise... you’ll die with me..." Yin Chaozong’s bloodshot eyes flared as he stared intently at Lin Feng.

What else could he do? Lin Feng could only blink rapidly, trying to appease the old demon and get it over with.

"Good... This is my life’s work. You must master... the Devouring Yin Corpse Art, and avenge me..." Before he could finish, Yin Chaozong’s eyes froze wide open, the last breath leaving his body. In his hand, he still clutched a golden leaf.

Lin Feng was stunned. With him dead, who would undo the restriction?