Chapter Fifty-Two: The Battle of the Phoenix Clan Chief

The duel between Feng Tianwu and Feng Qinghe was a momentous event for the Feng Clan. Many had risen early, eager to witness the spectacle. Among the youngest members, Feng Yuechi and Feng Ling’er arrived first, gathering outside the clan’s martial arena.

“Ling’er, who do you think will win?” Feng Yuechi tugged at Feng Ling’er’s sleeve, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Feng Ling’er pondered, torn, her mood subdued. “Probably Sister Tianwu. She’s a whole realm above Brother Qinghe, after all.”

“I think so too,” Feng Yuechi nodded in agreement.

Feng Ling’er sighed silently, worry for Feng Qinghe evident in her demeanor.

By dawn, the clan elders and all the people from Purple Cliff Hall had assembled. Feng Tianwu stood at the center of the arena. After a quarter of an hour, You Xiyue led Feng Qinghe and several others onto the field.

Around the arena were seats for spectators and a judges’ platform. For fairness, the clan had assigned You Xiyue and Qin Junwei to the judges’ table.

The Third Elder of the Feng Clan enthusiastically guided You Xiyue to her place. You Xiyue glanced coldly at the empty seat beside Qin Junwei, snorted, and was about to sit when Junyang stopped her.

“Little Ancestor…”

You Xiyue blinked at Junyang, who relaxed and let go, following her to the table.

Once everyone had taken their seats, Feng Qinghe finally stepped onto the arena.

“Blades and swords are blind. Are you prepared, Third Brother?” Feng Tianwu raised her Star Soul Sword, aiming it at Feng Qinghe. Her narrow eyes lifted, dangerous and resolute.

Feng Qinghe did not respond. He met her gaze in silence, opened his right palm, and summoned the Golden Phoenix Feather Fan.

The spectators were more nervous than the duelists themselves. Feng Ling’er swallowed hard.

“Sister Tianwu’s gaze is scary. She won’t actually kill Brother Qinghe, will she?”

Feng Yuechi rubbed her fingers anxiously. “She wouldn’t, right…”

You Xiyue, ever the calmest, dabbed her finger in the tea on the table and began drawing indecipherable patterns.

Qin Junwei glanced sideways, unable to comprehend the sketches, assumed they were random, and turned his attention back to the arena.

Though Feng Qinghe hadn’t answered, Feng Tianwu saw the coldness in his eyes. She was now certain that Feng Yanhua’s warning to be cautious referred to him.

From the outset, she unleashed her full power.

Her spiritual energy surged, her long hair billowed. At the tip of her Star Soul Sword, a blaze gathered, growing ever larger. She lunged forward, the fire aimed straight at Feng Qinghe’s brow.

Feng Qinghe leapt, catching the Golden Phoenix Feather Fan as it floated in the air. With a side sweep, he sent a fire phoenix soaring from the ground, its wings beating desperately. With a mournful cry, it rushed at the Star Soul Sword.

The collision resounded with clangs. Feng Tianwu pivoted, relaxing her force, and spun suddenly. The fire phoenix crashed into the barrier behind her, sending sparks flying before settling into calm.

Feng Tianwu reevaluated Feng Qinghe. This once silent brother, lower than herself in cultivation, was not to be underestimated.

She shook her Star Soul Sword, now reddened from the fire phoenix, and launched another attack.

Sword in one hand, incantations in the other, she sent several blasts of sword wind toward him.

Tiny flames appeared one after another around Feng Qinghe, like sparks poised to ignite a wildfire, suddenly erupting and encircling him.

Feng Qinghe tossed the Golden Phoenix Feather Fan into the air, rose swiftly, and hovered. Forming a spiritual incantation with both hands, the fan gleamed gold, splitting into nine golden feathers that circled him, blocking the incoming flames.

The fire, filling the arena, was gradually extinguished as the golden feathers absorbed and shielded.

Watching the flames fade, Feng Tianwu’s pupils trembled; her hand gripping the Star Soul Sword shook, and she stepped back.

The golden feathers returned to his side, ready for summoning.

“Elder Sister, aren’t you continuing?” Feng Qinghe’s cool voice made Feng Tianwu retreat another step.

She gripped her sword tightly and lunged again. Feng Qinghe raised the Golden Phoenix Feather Fan to block, meeting her gaze—now bloodshot.

He froze. Feng Tianwu’s spiritual power surged, she flicked the fan upward, and it slipped easily from his grasp.

On the spectator’s bench, Yan Qingye sprang to his feet, tugging at Ming Chenyu. “Isn’t something off with Feng Tianwu?”

Ye Linyi slapped his thigh. “Damn, is she really playing dirty?”

Feng Tianwu seemed to have lost her mind. She stabbed at Feng Qinghe repeatedly, as if seeking his life.

Feng Qinghe dodged two strikes, but not the third. Feng Tianwu’s speed was beyond what could be achieved at her current realm.

The sword pierced his shoulder, sending him flying.

But Feng Tianwu was relentless, pursuing him with another strike.

This blow was aimed directly at his heart.

You Xiyue frowned, about to rise, when suddenly a bronze token appeared, intercepting Feng Tianwu’s sword.

Her crazed gaze gradually regained clarity. Seeing the token, she was stunned.

Other clan members in the spectator seats sprang to their feet.

“The clan crest?!”

“That’s the clan crest, isn’t it?!”

“How did the clan crest suddenly appear?”

The crest, unscathed beneath Feng Tianwu’s sword, sent her flying instead.

The elders could no longer remain seated and gathered outside the arena, gazing in amazement at the floating clan crest.

Qin Junwei’s perpetual smile vanished upon sight of the crest.

Feng Tianyang rushed behind Feng Tianwu, shouting at Feng Qinghe, “Feng Qinghe, what are your intentions hiding the clan crest? I saw it fly straight from your pouch!”

Clutching his shoulder, Feng Qinghe staggered upright, coldly laughing. “I hid it?”

“Of course you did! Keeping the crest to yourself, refusing to give it to my father, letting the clan be shamed by the Upper Realm for three hundred years—what are you up to?” Feng Tianyang declared righteously.

“Heh…” Feng Qinghe chuckled twice, then burst into laughter, as if hearing some absurd joke.

“What are you laughing at?” Feng Tianyang continued to glare.

Feng Qinghe stifled his laughter and spat blood, a strange heat rising in his chest.

He suddenly looked up at the crest.

The blood from his wound, staining Feng Tianwu’s sword, had seeped into the crest.

The phoenix eyes on the crest flashed with golden light.

“That is…”

The Third Elder cried out in shock, “The clan spirit has chosen Feng Qinghe as the clan leader?!”