Chapter Twenty-Six: The Mysterious Elder

Inside, Leng Bingyan felt his blood surging uncontrollably, his entire body wracked with pain, as if death itself were calling him. “No, I cannot die. If I must die... I will not perish at the hands of the Han family.” Fury welled up within him once more. His clan could abandon him, could kill him, but he refused to let his life end by their hands. If only he could survive this calamity. He would not seek trouble for the Han family, nor exact revenge; all he desired was to sever ties, to be done with them forever.

With a thunderous crash, another blow landed. Leng Bingyan saw a mocking smile appear on the face of the man in black. His vision began to blur, his consciousness slipping from his control, sleep rushing to overtake him. “I mustn’t sleep. I... refuse to yield...” He knew that if he closed his eyes now, he might never awaken again.

Yet fatigue ravaged him, his body depleted and sluggish, and he held on only by sheer force of will. Though the barrier of light outside was beyond his control, it seemed inextricably linked to his physical state. As his strength waned, the violet wall began to waver, its brilliance fading, its ripples growing shallow and faint.

The thirteen black-clad Guardians watched, their hearts swelling with joy. They knew the completion of the patriarch’s mission was now within reach. They gathered their strength, launching even fiercer attacks.

At last, Leng Bingyan, trembling all over, could hold out no longer. With a muffled gasp, he collapsed to the ground, utterly unconscious. The violet light around him flickered and then vanished, leaving him exposed, defenseless before the thirteen bloodthirsty Guardians.

Their faces twisted with menace, all thirteen raised their swords high, ready to end his life in the next instant.

A raspy cough echoed behind them.

Startled, the Guardians spun around and saw an old man, hunched and silent, standing in their midst. He had approached thirteen master-level warriors without a sound—what incredible prowess must he possess?

“Show mercy where mercy is due. The heavens bring forth change, life and death ebb and flow. Flowers bloom and wither, as do men meet their ends. Some fates are decreed by the path itself; his destiny is not to die here. Why persist with such vengeance and extinguish another’s life?”

The aged voice carried an undeniable authority. The thirteen felt their hearts tremble involuntarily, a deep urge to submit rising within them.

“No, he must die. That is our purpose here.” The leader, after an intense internal struggle, replied boldly, though his voice quivered slightly.

“Oh?” The old man’s reply was ambiguous. He then spoke clearly: “This child is under my protection. Any objections?”

The thirteen exchanged glances, knowing this would not end peacefully. Their minds raced, thinking of how to deal with the old man. After deliberation, they had no choice but to fight: “Then, senior, forgive us for our offense.” With that, they shifted their focus from the fallen Leng Bingyan to the old man, attacking him as one.

The old man shook his head slightly. “Ants will always be ants. Without self-awareness, living in this world is nothing but mediocrity. Allow me to send you on your way.” As he spoke, his hands performed a series of gestures, forming some kind of array, though the thirteen could not comprehend it.

His lips curled into a sinister smile, accentuating his uncanny aura. To the thirteen, he was terrifying, dreadful, filling them with utter fear.

He glanced at the figures charging toward him—such speed, to his eyes, was slower than a snail’s crawl. He placed his right hand in the path of one attacker and, with a gentle exertion, that man’s face froze in terror, his body instantly ruptured under the old man’s force.

The splintered body, instead of scattering in all directions, shot straight toward the other attackers at an even greater speed. Before they could react, their forward momentum stopped, but it was too late. They were struck head-on, hurled hundreds of meters away, smashing through countless obstacles before crashing into a thick mast and finally collapsing to the ground, unable to rise for a long time.

All they could do was lie there, gazing up at the old man’s indifferent expression, their faces full of horror. Weakly and hoarsely, they shouted, “Why? How is this possible? Who are you? Impossible! Impossible!”

“There is nothing impossible. These are facts. You should not have acted so ruthlessly. Now, your lives are mine to claim.” The voice seemed to come from the depths of hell, filled with endless spectral menace. The old man raised his hand again, performed a tearing motion in the air, and instantly, the twelve who lay prostrate exploded in their entirety.

Thirteen master-level warriors—thirteen nameless experts at the pinnacle of martial arts. If word spread that thirteen such figures had suddenly appeared in SH City, the entire martial world would be thrown into chaos. After all, those who had reached the Earth realm were few, likely no more than thirty; those at the Heaven realm were rarer still, fewer than ten.

But now, thirteen Heaven-level masters had emerged—and died so abruptly. If anyone learned of this, they would surely go mad.

After finishing his work, the old man strode over to the unconscious Leng Bingyan, gently lifting him from the ground. “Planting flowers and reaping fruit depends on fate; the questions of past and present lives are matters of destiny. Since we are fated, let me help you, child.” At that moment, the old man paused, a flash of brilliance in his eyes, his voice trembling: “The Feathered Body, destined fate—after ten million years, at last, you have come to me. Ha ha…”

After the wild laughter faded, the old man carefully cradled Leng Bingyan in his arms, gathering energy from the surroundings. Black clouds appeared spontaneously, enveloping them, and gradually dispersed. The silent, white street was left with nothing but the cold moonlight.

※※※Feather※※※Emperor※※※

“What? Bingyan is missing?” Han Xianyu rose from the sofa, utter disbelief in her voice.

“Yes. We went to his usual residence, but he hadn’t returned. The place was untouched, just as he left it. I think... we’ve lost track of him,” reported the subordinate Han Xianyu had sent.

Han Xianyu hurried outside, arriving at Leng Bingyan’s simple lodgings. She found everything as it had always been, her anxiety increasing. Her heart caught in her throat. How could a twelve-year-old child simply vanish? Where could he be now?

He was her own flesh and blood, born of ten months’ pregnancy. Suddenly, Han Xianyu burst from the house, running wildly through the night, searching frantically for any sign of Leng Bingyan. Regret weighed heavily on her; she hated herself for prioritizing the family, for sending her son down this doomed path.

“Bingyan, Bingyan…” Han Xianyu called with a hoarse voice, her cries tinged with desolation.

But there was nothing to be found. Those she had dispatched returned, bringing only the news: nothing.