Chapter Forty-Nine: Master of the Arts

Cheng Longjian’s expression was dark and somber; he let out a low sigh, as if resolved to risk his life. Yet, unexpectedly, he only feinted, tossed his chair aside, and spun around with a sudden leap. Like a hawk spreading its wings, his body soared more than ten meters high and, in an instant, he had jumped out from the second floor of White Cloud Pavilion. With his arms outstretched in a grand arc, he glided through the air like a great roc, swiftly covering nearly a hundred meters in the blink of an eye, intent on escaping.

At that moment, Cheng Longjian’s mind was consumed by a single thought: “Escape! Get away at once!” This was a true master of the grandmaster realm—no matter how strong he was, he remained only at the pinnacle of inner energy. Over the past years, he had faintly felt as if he’d set one foot into the grandmaster realm, but the true distance was still a world apart. Moreover, his opponent had just gravely wounded him with a single strike—a clear sign of a seasoned grandmaster, not to be underestimated! Now, the only course was to flee—life was paramount.

For twenty years, Cheng Longjian had roamed the martial world, surviving countless moments of peril by valuing his own life above all else.

“Mr. Lin! He’s getting away!” Wang Haiyang shouted as he saw Cheng Longjian about to make his escape.

But Lin Feng, unhurried and composed, simply strode to the edge of the pavilion’s second floor. Bringing his fingers together to form a sword, he unleashed a basic sword technique from his school—the Autumn Waters Sword Finger. A brilliant blue arc of sword energy sliced through the air, crossing over a hundred meters in a heartbeat, and struck squarely at Cheng Longjian’s back.

A sharp whistle of sword energy reached Cheng Longjian’s ears, making them twitch. He immediately tried to turn and defend, his toes pressing into a tree branch to pivot. But before he could react, the overwhelming sword energy had already slashed into his back. Blood spurted from his lips, his internal organs ablaze with pain, his body reaching its limits as he toppled from the tree branch and crashed to the ground below.

Wang Jisheng, Wang Haiyang, and Luo Qiankun watched in awe as Lin Feng, from well over a hundred meters away, felled Cheng Longjian with a single sword finger. The display was nothing short of miraculous. Unconsciously, they all swallowed hard.

“True energy unleashed, killing with a flick of the finger! This is the power of a grandmaster! And to project it over such a distance—he must be at the very pinnacle of the grandmaster realm!” Luo Qiankun was dumbstruck, unsure even what to say.

Only moments ago, he had mocked this young man for having little martial prowess, convinced he’d come only to die. Yet now, not only was Lin Feng formidable, he possessed the consummate mastery of a grandmaster—far beyond Luo’s own abilities. In truth, it was he who had made a fool of himself.

The so-called top martial artist of Binhai City? He had been like a frog at the bottom of a well—narrow-minded, ignorant of the true heights of the martial world, shallow beyond measure. Luo Qiankun was mortified, hardly able to face Lin Feng.

Wang Jisheng, meanwhile, seemed to have forgotten his earlier disdain. He hurried up to Lin Feng, face plastered with a flattering smile, and cupped his hands in salute. “Thank you, Grandmaster Lin, for saving us! I, Wang Jisheng, will never forget this favor. Should you ever give an order, I will obey without hesitation!”

Never forget? Obey without hesitation? Lin Feng understood all too well what Wang Jisheng was scheming. The condition for his intervention had been servitude, and now this old fox was trying to gloss over the promise, pretending nothing had happened? Wishful thinking.

Lin Feng had come here precisely to seize the opportunity to gain control over the other half of Binhai City’s underworld—Wang Jisheng—so as to counterbalance the Heavenly Dragon Hall and ultimately destroy Long Yaoyang, avenging a blood feud ten thousand years old.

And yet now Wang Jisheng wanted to play games, trying to weasel out of his oath? Impossible.

“Wang Jisheng, don’t forget—from this day forward, you are my servant. Trying to play the rogue before me? Do you not know what death is?” Lin Feng’s voice was chilling.

Wang Jisheng shuddered, glancing around at the carnage within the White Cloud Pavilion. Just one Cheng Longjian had almost cost him his life. If Lin Feng, far stronger than Cheng, wanted him dead, he would have no hope of survival. The thought sent a chill straight up his spine.

“Grandmaster Lin, what do you wish of me?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“It’s simple. From now on, you are my subordinate—follow orders, and don’t entertain any disloyalty. Otherwise, you’ll end up just like Cheng Longjian today.”

Wang Jisheng nervously swallowed again, his eyes flickering with fear, but finally said loudly, “Yes, I will follow all your instructions, Grandmaster Lin!”

A wise man does not fight a losing battle. In this situation, Wang Jisheng dared not refuse; he bowed his head in sincere submission. Lin Feng, meanwhile, took out a pill from within his robe and handed it over.

“This is my exclusive poison, Soul-Scattering Pill. After taking it, you’ll need my unique antidote each year to stave off the poison—otherwise, your soul will scatter and you’ll become a living corpse.”

Wang Jisheng stared at the pill in Lin Feng’s palm, cursing inwardly, “How can someone in his twenties be so ruthless? Soul-Scattering Pill? This is a death sentence!”

His right hand trembled and his face was bitter. He had hoped to pit two tigers against each other, only to find himself the lamb in the tiger’s jaws. What misfortune! But Lin Feng could kill him and pin the blame on Cheng Longjian without leaving a trace. He had no choice whatsoever.

Wang Jisheng deeply regretted ever having looked down on Lin Feng. Life would be hard from now on! Swallowing the Soul-Scattering Pill, he slumped to the side, tears in his eyes. From this day forth, he was nothing but Lin Feng’s lackey.

Wang Haiyang rushed over to support his father, glancing up at Lin Feng with a tumult of emotions. If he had not brought Lin Feng here, his father would never have survived Cheng Longjian, but would not now be a servant to Lin Feng either. Such was fate.

Lin Feng now approached Luo Qiankun and said calmly, “Your internal organs are ruined and your energy dissipated. Even if you survive, your cultivation will never progress. Here is a prescription—take it for a month, and you’ll recover most of your strength.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster Lin!” Luo Qiankun was overwhelmed. He prostrated himself in gratitude. The martial world was a harsh reality—strength reigned supreme.

“But there are conditions, you understand?” Lin Feng said.

“I understand. I, Luo Qiankun, willingly take the Soul-Scattering Pill and become your servant, Grandmaster Lin, in exchange for your guidance. I will be forever grateful!” He was a martial artist in his forties, stuck at the threshold of inner strength for years, unable to break through. Now, as Lin Feng’s servant, even if it was a step down, he would at least be within a grandmaster’s domain. Advancement was within reach at last.

With heartfelt thanks, Luo Qiankun took the Soul-Scattering Pill without hesitation, and Lin Feng nodded with a smile. In truth, the so-called Soul-Scattering Pill was nothing more than a chocolate bean—but with the endorsement of a grandmaster, even a chocolate bean could become a deadly poison.