In just three days, with only five hundred swordsmen and blistering speed, Feng Yicheng reclaimed the five Feng towns that had been seized by the Pis. The Pis responded quickly, establishing a strong defense around the town of Yan, on the outskirts of Pi territory. This was the first time that Feng Yicheng’s swordsmen had encountered an active Pi defense in the vicinity.

After rebuffing Feng Yicheng’s advances twice over, Pi Batian commanded for the town gates to be opened. With five hundred swordsmen of his own, he challenged Feng Yicheng to a battle. Feng Yicheng’s swordsmen had already been fighting continuously for three or four days, and they naturally were no match for Pi Batian’s refreshed, invigorated troops. After just two skirmishes, they were showing signs of failing.

As the vanguard, Zhuo Yifeng immediately rushed to Feng Yicheng’s side. “Lord Feng, we’re no match for them as we currently are. Let’s retreat!”

Feng Yicheng glanced at the Pi swordsmen, whose morale had soared after gaining the upper hand in the conflict. He swept an arm and announced, “Retreat!”

Zhuo Yifeng guarded Feng Yicheng as they began retreating from the town of Yan.

“I won’t allow you to leave so easily!” Pi Batian immediately charged forward with his soldiers, all the way until they entered a narrow valley.

“Young Master Pi, the conditions here aren’t favorable to us. We can’t keep charging forward without more information about what lies ahead,” one of Pi Batian’s aides called out.

Pi Batian glanced around him, agreeing with his aide’s judgment. Even his warhorse seemed to share the same sentiment, and was trotting with unease.

“Retreat!” Pi Batian commanded.

As he did so, an opposing cry rang out from above the valley. “Charge!” Li Mo shouted, with over a hundred swordsmen in tow. Meanwhile, Feng Yicheng and Zhuo Yifeng turned their men back and began charging towards Pi Batian’s men in a pincer-style attack.

Fireballs, vines, icicles, boulders, and sand rained down on Pi Batian’s swordsmen, blocking their means of retreat, as Feng Yicheng and Zhuo Yifeng launched a counterattack.

“Retreat, retreat!” Pi Batian’s swordsmen broke rank and tried to flee, their orderly formations degenerating into a rout. In an instant, they had gone from pursuer to pursued. Hundreds of Pi Batian’s swordsmen surrounded him, protecting him to ensure that he returned to the Pi city at all costs, but only fifty survivors accompanied him.

All the Feng swordsmen that had participated in the battle were red-faced and excited, having won an overwhelming victory over the Pi troops and finally releasing some of their pent-up anger and vexation at them.

Old Lin smiled as he related the details of the battle to a few swordsmen who hadn’t participated. “Exhilarating! Those scoundrels had to flee for their lives like the cowards they are. And Pi Batian—if his men didn’t protect him with their lives, we’d have taken his head!”

“You should’ve allowed me to participate as well, Old Lin!” a swordsman grumbled. He had been assigned to remain behind to defend the main camp, and was unable to participate in the battle.

“Right, and me!”

“I want to fight too! There’s nothing to do back here!”

“This is only the start of the conflict. There’ll be far more battles ahead, and everyone will have their opportunity,” Old Lin glanced at Zhuo Yifeng, who was standing not too far from him. He couldn’t help but think back to the scene of the battle. Zhuo Yifeng’s black whip seemed like an evil dragon straight out of hell, its attacks so powerful that even Old Lin was shocked.

Old Lin saw how his whip had been able to unseat a sword saint from his horse, then send him flying away. The only person he’d seen with sufficient skill to instantly hurt a sword saint besides Feng Bo was Zhuo Yifeng.

But… Zhuo Yifeng’s spiritual energy didn’t seem like that of a sword saint.

“Zhuo Yifeng,” Old Lin said, walking up to him. “What’s your cultivation level?”

“Ninth-rank blademaster. Why?”

“You’re not a sword saint yet?” Old Lin pressed.

“No. Is there a problem?” Zhuo Yifeng frowned.

“On the battlefield, I saw you injure a sword saint with a crack of your whip. How did you do it?”

Zhuo Yifeng glanced at Old Lin so coldly that he almost shivered. Just as he was about to speak, Zhuo Yifeng suddenly laughed. “You must be kidding! How could I beat a sword saint? But I did knock aside quite a few swordsmen on my level. You must have seen wrongly.”

“Me, see wrongly? No, that’s impossible—ah, Zhuo Yifeng, don’t leave!”

“Old Lin, I need to cultivate and become a sword saint as soon as possible.”

Old Lin still had more questions for him, but Zhuo Yifeng had already left the field. The malicious voice in his head spoke up again. “Sooner or later, people will discover my existence, especially Yun Ruoyan and Li Mo. Zhuo Yifeng, you’d better plan for that eventuality.”

“Do you have a method to allow me to break through to the realm of a sword saint?” Zhuo Yifeng asked. In order to not let others find out that he was borrowing the demonic spirit’s power, he could only raise his own cultivation.

“Naturally,” the demonic spirit replied. “But if you want to make a transaction with me, you’ll have to pay a price.”

“What price?” Zhuo Yifeng asked.

“Fuse our souls together more deeply,” the demonic spirit replied. “I’m not taking advantage of you here. Going from the level of a ninth-rank blademaster to that of a sword saint is a major bottleneck. In order to help you break past this bottleneck requires my demonic power, and that requires a more complete merger.”

A more complete merger wasn’t something that could be taken lightly. Zhuo Yifeng was barely able to suppress the demonic spirit as is, but once the connection between them deepened, it was obvious that the demonic spirit would try to counteract his control.

“There’s no need to risk it,” the demonic spirit suddenly said, understanding his concerns. “If you don’t want others to discover your secret, there’s a better strategy: leave. Leave everyone and cultivate in seclusion. Once the portal to your original realm appears, return to whence you came—or stay here for good, if you’d like.”

Leaving wasn’t a viable strategy for Zhuo Yifeng, not with the war between the Feng and Pi families already having started. Yun Ruoyan was embroiled in this war, and Zhuo Yifeng had to stay to protect her, if nothing else.

“I agree to your price,” Zhuo Yifeng replied, without any of the hesitation or caution he’d previously shown.

“You’re really willing to merge more deeply with me?” The demonic spirit was hardly able to believe what he’d heard. “You’re willing to do so much for that Yun Ruoyan? Zhuo Yifeng, I really don’t understand you. You like her but are unwilling to confess, and now that I’ve helped you confess to her, you don’t even dare show yourself in front of her! And even when she doesn’t know anything, you’re willing to make such a sacrifice—are you crazy?”

“Crazy?” Zhuo Yifeng chuckled bitterly. “Perhaps, but it’s my choice.” To fall in love with someone who couldn’t love him back… sacrifice was unavoidable.

With their morale through the roof, the Feng army paraded all the way to the outskirts of the town of Yan and set up camp there, ready to attack it at the slightest provocation.

“The Feng family’s getting more and amore arrogant,” Pi Yan murmured. He and Pi Yan were standing above the walls of the town, glancing at the Feng troops with distaste.

“Arrogant and sly,” Pi Batian added. Because he took his enemy too lightly, he fell into a trap and lost hundreds of swordsmen, even a few sword saints.

“We’ll fight them tomorrow. Don’t take them lightly, but if you see Yun Ruoyan and Li Mo again, make capturing them your top priority,” Pi Yan instructed Pi Batian. “Even if we lose our city, we can reclaim it. As long as the silver dragon clan elder is satisfied, there’s nothing we need fear.”

“Father, is the silver dragon elder rushing you again?” Pi Batian asked.

“Yes, he’s furious. I wasn’t able to catch them within the promised five-day deadline, but the first elder still granted me holy water to save your life. Tian’er, do you know what this means?”

“I don’t, Father.”

“If we’re unable to catch Yun Ruoyan and Li Mo even during this upcoming conflict, the Pi family will vanish from the Mingyuan continent.” Pi Yan looked beyond the walls of the town of Yan. He knew that Yun Ruoyan and Li Mo had to be within the Feng encampment, but he wasn’t able to lay a finger on them. His hands clenched into fists. “Tian’er, remember this well. What matters isn’t whether we win or lose, but whether we can catch Yun Ruoyan and Li Mo.”

“I understand, Father.”

The next day, the Pi family began sending seasoned swordsmen to sortie with the Feng family in a series of one-on-one duels. The Fengs responded in kind with their best swordsmen. After all, the Pis had suggested the challenge in order to recover the morale that they had lost from their disastrous defeat, and the Feng family naturally wasn’t going to give them the opportunity to do so. The two families even agreed that the losing party would cede a town to the winner.

There were eight duels from morning to noon, and both the Pis and Fengs had a few victories—until the Pi family sent out a peak first-rank sword saint, who trounced each of his opponents and marked the start of a long string of defeats for the Fengs. The duels proceeded into the night, with neither side relenting. The peak first-rank sword saint seemed to grow stronger and stronger with each fight, with no sign of being worn out.

The Feng family sent two swordsmen from their secret troops to participate. One returned with severe injuries, and the other was killed. Even an expert like Old Lin received serious injuries against the swordsman.

Feng Yicheng, Yun Ruoyan and the others frowned deeply as they observed the swordsman’s fight.