Chapter Thirteen: The Fool’s Fortune at Phoenix Joy Pond

Only then did the group belatedly seal their hearing, shifting their attention back to the iron whip that was still struggling incessantly.

A loud, persistent humming filled the air as the clash between the iron whip and the Thunder Incantation grew ever more intense.

Even Feng Qinghe frowned, debating whether to seal his own hearing as well.

The commotion soon drew the interest of the other sects; one after another, they covered their ears and peered curiously in this direction.

“What’s going on there?”

“Could it be some sort of treasure?”

“What kind of treasure is that hunk of iron?”

Thunder Incantation coiled tightly around the iron whip, producing a constant rasping, crackling sound.

With a crisp snap, rust began to flake away from the center of the iron whip. The crimson flames, long suppressed beneath the rust, surged out madly through the cracks, bursting forth until all the rust had fallen away.

At last, the iron whip revealed its true form.

“That is…”

“That’s the Heaven-Scorching Mace! A celestial-grade artifact!”

The crowd gazed on with expressions of awe, regret, and envy, each reacting differently.

Feng Ling’er could hardly believe her eyes. “So… it really is a treasure?”

You Xiyue brought two fingers together, releasing a stream of spiritual energy to pacify the flames upon the Heaven-Scorching Mace. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it floating before Feng Yuechi. “It’s yours.”

Feng Yuechi was so stunned that her hearing was still sealed. Her hand trembled as she reached for the artifact, hesitating to glance at You Xiyue. “Senior, do you truly mean to give it to me?”

You Xiyue arched a brow in slight confusion, then snapped her fingers, unsealing the group’s hearing. “It was yours to begin with. Keep it.”

“Y-yes! Thank you, Senior! Thank you so much!” Feng Yuechi was so excited her voice shook as she accepted the Heaven-Scorching Mace, stroking it over and over as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

With envy, Feng Ling’er sidled up and pouted, “Truly, fortune favors the foolish.”

Feng Yuechi paid her no mind, chuckling foolishly as she carefully placed the Heaven-Scorching Mace into her spatial pouch. Then she stepped up to You Xiyue. “Senior, may I form a soul contract with it and make it my life-bound weapon?”

“You wish to bond with a celestial-grade artifact? Won’t you seek one of even higher quality?”

Feng Yuechi scratched her head sheepishly. “I doubt anything of higher quality would choose me. Meeting the Heaven-Scorching Mace feels like fate.”

You Xiyue, seeing her so easily contented, did not try to dissuade her. “Its temper seems rather fierce. To form a contract, you must earn its approval.”

“How… Senior, how can I gain its approval?”

You Xiyue shrugged, somewhat helpless. “Every artifact is different. Some yield after a good fight, others are moved by long companionship. You’ll have to find your own way.”

Feng Yuechi bowed respectfully. “I understand. Thank you for your guidance, Senior.”

You Xiyue waved her off indifferently.

The other young members of the Feng clan crowded around Feng Yuechi to congratulate her.

Feng Qinghe cleared his throat. “Enough. Treasure what you’ve gained and prepare to return to the Feng clan.”

“Yes, sir.” The younger generation lined up obediently.

Feng Qinghe turned to You Xiyue. “Master, shall we…”

But Yuan Yibai suddenly ran over. “Take me with you.”

“You wish to return to the Feng clan with us, Immortal Yuan Chen?” Feng Qinghe asked.

“Yes. I’ve never been, and I’d like to see it for myself.”

Feng Qinghe glanced uncertainly at You Xiyue, knowing Yuan Yibai’s true interest lay with his master and unwilling to make the decision himself.

You Xiyue did not mind having Yuan Yibai follow; in fact, keeping him close would only make it easier to discern the motives behind his strange behavior.

With a casual twist of her right hand, You Xiyue conjured a teleportation array right then and there.

The portal led directly to the Seventeenth Layer Continent.

You Xiyue stepped into the array with Jun Yang, beckoning the others. “Come.”

“Yes.” Feng Qinghe entered first, Feng Ling’er hesitated briefly, then followed, and Yuan Yibai’s movements were no slower than Feng Qinghe’s.

“Let’s go.”

With that, a flash of white light enveloped them, and in the blink of an eye, they stood before the gates of Fengyang City on the Seventeenth Layer Continent.

A colossal stone phoenix perched atop the city gate, its wings spread wide as if it might come to life at any moment, let out a resounding cry, and soar into the heavens—a sight both majestic and awe-inspiring.

“No wonder the Feng clan commands such reverence,” Yuan Yibai couldn’t help but exclaim.

Feng Qinghe pressed his lips into a thin line, remaining silent. The current Feng clan was hardly comparable to the five great families. Yuan Yibai was merely being polite as a guest.

Yet Feng Ling’er, oblivious, responded with unrestrained pride, “Of course! Our Feng clan descends from the ancient beast tribes, with a long history and generations of mighty ancestors.”

Yuan Yibai smiled. “Indeed.”

You Xiyue felt no particular dislike toward Feng Ling’er, only shook her head wordlessly, glancing from Feng Yuechi to Feng Ling’er, murmuring, “No wonder you’re from the same clan.”

At last, her gaze settled, troubled, on Feng Qinghe.

Their eyes met, and a wave of unspeakable frustration welled in Feng Qinghe’s chest.

Yuan Yibai, seeing You Xiyue’s deeply concerned expression, smiled all the more.

“It’s the time for the once-every-five-years Upper Realm Clan Elders’ Assembly. I suppose the Feng clan patriarch is not at home?”

Feng Ling’er’s pride deflated at once when she heard this.

Yuan Yibai looked to Feng Qinghe in surprise.

Feng Qinghe was unashamed. “The Feng clan’s family crest was lost. The current patriarch is not qualified to attend.”

On the Upper Realm Continent, every family possessed its own crest—a symbol of authority. Without it, the family would not be recognized at the Clan Elders’ Assembly.

“That is unexpected,” Yuan Yibai said, his words carrying a hidden meaning. “How could someone become patriarch without the Feng clan’s crest?”

Feng Qinghe snorted, refusing to respond.

Still caught up in the thrill of finding a celestial-grade artifact, Feng Yuechi failed to notice Yuan Yibai’s implication and explained, “The crest has been lost for ages. The Feng clan can’t go without a head; there was no other choice.”

“It was never found?” As the young master of the Yuan family, Yuan Yibai understood the importance of the family crest. Such artifacts, much like the Yin-Yang Jade of Immortals and Demons, housed a clan spirit and would never be lost except by their own will—unless the clan spirit refused to acknowledge the current patriarch, or the crest was shattered in a clan war.

But as long as the faith of the clan’s members endured, the clan spirit would eventually recover.

“No,” Feng Ling’er replied sorrowfully. “Ever since Brother Qinghe’s father, Clan Leader Feng Anlin, had his soul lamp break without warning, the crest vanished with it. It’s been missing for three hundred years.”

“Well, that is quite a long time indeed.”

Yuan Yibai pressed the matter no further; the Feng clan’s internal affairs were none of his concern.