Chapter Twenty-Two: An Unexpected Visitor at the Phoenix Manor

Seeing how happily Snow Jade was eating, You Xiyue plucked a small bunch from Jun Yang’s spiritual grape cluster and handed it to Snow Jade.

“You can only eat these.”

Although much smaller than Jun Yang’s, Snow Jade was perfectly content. With two soft meows, he seemed to promise he would obey.

You Xiyue, satisfied, curved her lips in a faint smile and said to Jun Yang, “Because his true form carries both demon and celestial blood.”

“So that half-demon is a child of both demon and celestial?” Jun Yang understood at once. “So the spiritual energy this little demon absorbs is transferred to his true form?”

“Probably.” You Xiyue didn’t fully understand half-demons, either.

“Then isn’t he just eating for nothing? What a waste…” Jun Yang suddenly felt a pang of regret.

“It doesn’t matter.” You Xiyue gently stroked the soft fur twice. “The two of them are, in truth, one and the same.”

Jun Yang felt a bit jealous. They hadn’t even met, and yet this much care was being shown already? He glanced at Feng Qinghe, who was so often the target of complaints, and felt a rare sense of camaraderie. “Qinghe.”

“Hmm?” Feng Qinghe, chewing on a spiritual grape, responded, “What is it, Senior Brother?”

“…Never mind.” This child was a bit slow. What more could Jun Yang say? He changed the subject instead. “Did that weapon I gave you accept you as its master yet?”

Feng Qinghe shook his head. “It seems it still refuses to acknowledge me.”

“It won’t accept you?” Jun Yang picked up a cloth to wipe his hands, then extended his right palm to Feng Qinghe. “Give it here, let me deal with that old relic for you.”

“Will… will that work?”

“Don’t you trust your Senior Brother?”

“It’s not that.” Feng Qinghe’s eyes held a trace of determination as he explained, “I want to conquer it myself.”

Jun Yang’s plan to vent his frustrations was foiled, but instead of being upset, he looked at Feng Qinghe with satisfaction. “Good.”

The three sat for a long while, until the sky began to pale.

You Xiyue stood, scooping Snow Jade up into her arms. “Get some rest,” she said, directing the words to Feng Qinghe.

“All right.” Feng Qinghe answered with a smile.

You Xiyue and Jun Yang vanished from the courtyard in a step.

Feng Qinghe reached out a finger and poked at the table, at the now half-eaten cluster of amethyst spiritual grapes. After sitting a while longer, he finally returned to his room.

...

Toward midday, when the weather should have been clear and bright, the sky suddenly turned gloomy.

Heavy gray clouds gathered and converged one after another, growing denser and darker. Such a scene had never occurred in ten thousand years atop Mount Phoenix Perch, which was always blessed with radiant sunshine.

“Doesn’t this look like someone’s facing tribulation?” Feng Ling’er, Feng Yuechi, and the others training on Mount Phoenix Perch’s Wan Chao Peak stared up at the sky in astonishment.

Even their teacher paused the lesson, frowning in confusion.

Feng Yanhua and Feng You, hearing the commotion from the servants, stepped out from the main hall.

“This…” Feng You glanced at Feng Yanhua’s profile and continued, “Could it be the Thunder Arts ‘Heaven’s Wrath’ by Lord Ye Nanlou, Patriarch of the Ye Clan on the Thirty-Fifth Continent?”

Feng Yanhua snorted coldly. “Who else but him could cause such a ruckus? There’s never been a cloudy day on Mount Phoenix Perch.”

“No wonder he’s a Celestial Lord.”

Feng Yanhua shot Feng You an irritated glare. “Is this really the time to be impressed? They’re threatening us at our doorstep, and you’re not rushing Yuechi and the others back home? Or are you planning to wait until they’re struck into charred crows?”

Feng You withdrew his gaze and bowed respectfully. “Yes.”

...

Unable to stay angry, Feng Yanhua let out a heavy breath.

Feng You had barely left when lightning began to flash and thunder to rumble among the gray clouds.

A crackling, tearing sound split the air.

Chaotic lightning darted through the clouds, finally converging into the shape of a massive dragon.

With a deafening crash, it struck straight down—landing directly at the Feng Clan’s gate.

Feng Yuechi and the others, just arriving at the gate, were so terrified they clung to each other and crouched down, arms over their heads.

Their voices trembled. “W-what do we do now?”

“It… it struck right here…”

Feng Ling’er’s eyes brimmed with tears. She buried her head in her knees, no longer daring to watch the spectacle.

Feng Yanhua saw the thunderbolt strike the gates and glared furiously at the sky, flicking his sleeve as he prepared to fly up and confront the Ye Clan himself.

But before he could act, the dust at his feet rose, swirling upward into the air.

Soon, it seemed as though all the dust on earth had been swept up, making the already dark sky even darker.

The trees in the estate were battered and bent by the wind, some nearly uprooted.

The heavy iron gates were blown about like sheets of paper, slamming back and forth with terrifying force.

“Enough already! One after another they come,” Feng Yanhua muttered, his face turning a shade of green.

He never imagined that, out of the five great clans, two clan heads would arrive at once.

Ye Nanlou, thunder affinity, Celestial Lord.

Yan Yaofeng, wind affinity, Celestial Lord.

Feng Yanhua, merely a humble Mystic Immortal, was utterly insignificant before them.

What good was anger? All he could do was put on a polite face, ascend to greet them, and politely inquire what had caused them such displeasure.

Feng Yanhua dared not show his anger, but it didn’t mean everyone in the guest courtyard was so patient.

From the moment the thunderbolt struck, You Xiyue—who had been sleeping soundly—was jolted awake.

Jun Yang, who had reverted to his serpent form, stretched his neck in fright, looking at the little ancestor whose brows were now tightly furrowed in growing annoyance, about to lose her temper. He hurriedly cast a soundproofing barrier.

The quiet that followed soothed You Xiyue’s frown.

Jun Yang breathed a sigh of relief.

But as soon as they relaxed, the iron gate began to act up again.

The barrier remained, but both of their spiritual senses were too acute to ignore the disturbance.

You Xiyue’s brow threatened to knot once more.

“These brats,” Jun Yang muttered, unable to bear it anymore. He took on human form, swept his sleeve, and strode from the room.

He looked up at the chaos in the sky.

Jun Yang’s slender fingers drew a few seemingly casual strokes in the air, conjuring a silvery sphere of light. With a flick of his palm, he sent the sphere flying. It grew larger as it soared toward the gray clouds, and, just as it reached them, burst apart with a blinding flare.

The sky turned dazzling white, so bright that everyone instinctively shielded their eyes.

When they opened them again, the sky was clear—endless blue, birdsong echoing as if nothing had ever happened. The gray clouds and the strange wind had vanished as though they had never existed.

Feng Yanhua snorted. “Two old fools, coming here just to brawl.”

With a flourish, he turned and sauntered back to the main hall.

He’d barely sat down when Feng You strode in from outside.

“The Ye Clan’s fourth son, Ye Linyi, and the Yan Clan’s young master, Yan Qingye, have come to pay their respects.”

…

Feng Yanhua hesitated inwardly. If he refused to see them, would something terrible happen?

After a long and silent struggle, Feng Yanhua finally surrendered and replied in a low, resigned voice, “Show them in.”

Ye Linyi and Yan Qingye entered, one after the other, their demeanor far more courteous than usual when facing a leader from the lower realms.

“Greetings, Clan Chief Feng.”

“Heh…” Feng Yanhua wanted to say he was anything but well—after being bombarded at his own doorstep, how could he possibly be well? “May I ask, gentlemen, what brings you both to the Feng Estate today?”

Ye Linyi exchanged a glance with Yan Qingye, his eyes narrowing slightly, his tone interrogative. “Clan Chief Feng, do you know where our fathers are?”