Chapter Forty-Two: A World of Immortal Heroes?-Cellular Universe(The Path Lit by a Pale Lantern)

"That's right, the Island of Peerless Arts!" Leng Feng said with a smile. "With your talents, it's already difficult to improve further in the martial world. Soon, you'll hit a bottleneck and your strength will stagnate."

"If you want a breakthrough, there's nowhere else but the Island of Peerless Arts!"

"Is that so?" Zhou Yi replied, watching as, after Leng Feng mentioned the name of that island, Huang Yue and the other’s expressions shifted from fright to delight, and then to uncertainty. He observed this clearly.

Although he wasn't sure what exactly this Island of Peerless Arts was, he could guess from their reaction. There were immense opportunities to be found there, certainly, but such opportunities would not come easily. Danger—perhaps even that word was insufficient to describe it.

"Still, in this at least, he is right," Zhou Yi thought. "With our talents, and my golden finger, it’s not impossible to improve in the martial world, but it wouldn’t be fast. Perhaps only this Island of Peerless Arts could allow us to advance swiftly."

Thinking of Leng Feng’s unfathomable strength, Zhou Yi pondered in silence. In terms of power, his senior brother Wenren Ying was already a master among the great sects, by no means weak. Yet even he, compared to this man before him, fell far short.

That spoke volumes.

"Only, there is still a problem," Zhou Yi mused. His current body was fifteen years old; Song Hai was a little younger, but by just over a month. Both were only fifteen. Their strength had yet to reach its limit, and their next training ground had already been mentioned by his senior brother: Blade Mountain.

Once they found Blade Mountain, they could continue training and quickly grow stronger. By the time they left, their strength would surely be formidable.

He believed, with his golden finger and Song Hai’s talent, that when they emerged from Blade Mountain, their power would already rival Wenren Ying’s. Of this, he was confident.

But to reach Wenren Ying’s level was one thing; to attain the strength of the man before him—Zhou Yi, steadfast as he was, felt a wave of powerlessness.

They were worlds apart. At first, he hadn’t noticed, but the more he thought about it, comparing Wenren Ying and Leng Feng, the more he realized the gap was immeasurable.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, Leng Feng grew impatient. His eyes grew cold, a sharp gleam flickering within.

Whoosh!

Seeing Zhou Yi lost in thought, silent for too long, Leng Feng let out a cold snort and flicked his wrist, sending a stream of green energy forth.

Crack!

Caught off guard, Zhou Yi was struck squarely by the green aura, lifted off the ground and sent flying through the air.

"Hmm?" The green energy was so swift that Zhou Yi only realized he’d been struck when the sudden sensation of weightlessness hit him. Suspended in midair, his heart tightened, but he quickly steadied himself. His eyes swept around, already picking out a landing spot. He gathered his inner strength, hand gripping his saber, ready to counterattack the moment he landed.

But after a moment, the feeling of weightlessness persisted; his body remained aloft, the distance from the ground unchanged. The green aura was holding him suspended in midair.

Leng Feng let out a cold laugh. Noticing the cold gleam of Zhou Yi’s tiger-head saber, he showed a mocking smile. He understood Zhou Yi’s mindset—impressed, even, by his ability to recover so quickly—but his hands did not pause.

He extended his palm, flicking his fingers four times at Zhou Yi’s limbs.

Pop!

The green energy enveloped Zhou Yi like a shimmering shield, and as Leng Feng’s fingers moved, four deep indentations appeared on Zhou Yi’s arms and legs.

With a spurt, Zhou Yi vomited a mouthful of blood as searing pain seared through him. Only then did he realize the inner force within him had been scattered and thrown into chaos by those four strikes. No matter how he tried, he could not control it; his body was rigid, as if it no longer belonged to him.

"Yi!" Seeing Zhou Yi suddenly cough blood, Song Hai went wild with rage. With a shout, he drew his saber in a flash of cold light, mountains rising and falling in its wake, merging with the blade.

Gripping his saber with both hands, Song Hai charged, slashing down at Leng Feng.

Boom!

It was as if heaven and earth were split by that blow. The air was cleaved in two, saber energy spreading out. Huang Yue and Daoist Qiufeng could not withstand it, retreating again and again, their skin stung as if pricked by needles, the pain unbearable. Alarm bells rang in their hearts—had they not retreated quickly, they’d have been injured by the saber’s energy.

"Hai!" Just as Song Hai’s blade was about to strike Leng Feng’s brow, Zhou Yi’s weak voice called out from the air, "Stand down!"

"Yi!" Song Hai protested, shouting vehemently.

"Stand down!" Zhou Yi’s face was stern, his voice harsh.

Song Hai stood there in grief and anger, his grip on the saber unwavering as surging waves of force radiated out from the blade. He longed to bring it down, to cleave the man before him in two for satisfaction, but at the last moment, he could not.

"Stand down!" Zhou Yi commanded again, his voice severe.

With a roar of frustration, Song Hai twisted his wrist and turned the blade, bringing it down so that it narrowly missed Leng Feng.

Crack!

The saber struck, its energy condensed into a single force that split the earth. The ground tore open with a thunderous sound, leaving a massive fissure stretching dozens of yards wide.

Leng Feng’s expression did not change as he watched, unmoved even as Song Hai’s blade nearly touched him, as if he simply didn’t care.

Coughing a few more times, Zhou Yi finally relaxed when he saw Song Hai, though unwilling, step aside.

"Yi!" Song Hai called out in concern.

"We'll go to the Island of Peerless Arts you spoke of," Zhou Yi said between coughs of blood.

Leng Feng said nothing, simply tossing two tokens their way. They turned into mysterious lights and fell into their arms. He gave Song Hai a final, lingering look, then turned and vanished. Not once did he glance at Huang Yue or Daoist Qiufeng, as if they didn’t exist in his eyes.

Bang!

The green energy dispersed, and Zhou Yi fell to the ground. Song Hai rushed to his side and helped him up.

"Yi!" Song Hai looked at him with deep concern, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Having known each other for many years, Zhou Yi immediately understood what Song Hai was thinking. "Heh, do you believe that even if you’d brought that blade down, even if he didn’t resist, you couldn’t have harmed him in the slightest?"

Song Hai fell silent. He understood, though it left him vexed. If not for this fact, he would never have held back. Hurting Zhou Yi angered him more than being hurt himself; if he could defeat Leng Feng, he would never have let him off so easily.

Seeing Song Hai’s stubborn gaze, Zhou Yi shook his head helplessly, sighing inwardly with awe and lingering shock. When Leng Feng released that green energy, all thoughts of resistance had left him.

This was no longer the realm of martial arts. It was not far removed from the immortal arts he’d heard of in his previous life. Only now did he realize that this world he had transmigrated into was no mere martial world; it was a world of cultivation and immortality.

To pit martial prowess against the immortal was little more than a fool’s dream.

At the same time, he suddenly understood why Leng Feng was so powerful, stronger by far than even legends like Wenren Ying. The man was an immortal in all but name—no wonder!