Chapter 21

Taking down the iron saber from his back, Qin Feng slowly drew it from its scabbard. The moonlight, like water, shone on the dark blade, and a thread of light danced upon it, emitting a light hum.

"Since you are waiting for me alone, you must be very confident. Why do you still say these words to confuse my mind? It seems your confidence is not enough!" Qin Feng raised his head, looking at the other person, a mocking smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Not at all, it's not that I lack confidence. Have you ever seen a cat catch a mouse? When a cat catches a mouse, why would it immediately bite it to death? Of course, it would first play with it for a while to get enough pleasure!" Bian Zheng laughed loudly. "Qin Feng, our understanding of you is beyond your imagination. Since five hundred years ago, when the Nan Tian Gate evaluated the martial artists of the world and set levels for them, martial artists have had a standard to distinguish their realms. We have an accurate assessment of you. The reason I am here is that I can steadily defeat you."

"Is that so?" Qin Feng sneered.

"Regarding your own strength, you only have the power of a fifth-level martial artist. However, in the army, when you cooperate with your soldiers, you can indeed perform beyond your level, even reaching the strength of a sixth or seventh-level martial artist. But in a one-on-one fight, you are really not up to the mark." Bian Zheng smiled. "As for me, Bian Zheng, I have the strength of a seventh-level martial artist. Don't you think I can steadily defeat you? Otherwise, why would I be the one waiting for you here instead of someone else?"

"If this so-called level classification were truly 100% accurate, why would martial artists in the world still fight? Everyone could just show their Nan Tian Gate badges when they meet, and the higher one wins, the lower one loses. Wouldn't that make the world peaceful?" Gao Yuan laughed. "I dare to ask, were the eight of your Bian family members who died at my hands not stronger than me?"

Bian Zheng's face flashed with a hint of anger. "At the brink of death, you still have a sharp tongue. Today, I will show you how a seventh-level martial artist can crush you."

The air suddenly seemed to become viscous, and the wind that had been whispering in his ears disappeared instantly. Qin Feng looked up at the sky, where the silver crescent moon hanging high seemed to become somewhat unreal, just like the distant mountains, appearing as if reflected in water, rippling slightly.

Gao Yuan's heart was slightly chilled. No wonder the enemy in front of him was so proud; he indeed had the capital to be so. Qin Feng, being in the army, rarely engaged in one-on-one fights. He mostly commanded the army to fight together. In battle, he had even encountered more formidable Western Qin generals than Bian Zheng, but those were group fights, and the pressure he felt was far less than today's. In army battles, the combined strength of thousands of soldiers, formed by military formations, was not inferior to the power of a high-level martial artist. Just a few days ago, he had used the combined strength of a hundred soldiers to block Zuo Lixing's angry roar.

But today, he had to face it alone.

The Western Qin's evaluation of him was quite accurate. Qin Feng's strength had always been between the fifth and sixth levels. However, due to the tyrannical nature of the internal energy he practiced, he could always display a combat power that surpassed others, as if the Hunyuan Divine Skill he practiced was specifically designed for the battlefield. On the battlefield, when the aura of the Hunyuan Divine Skill spread, the fierce and violent aura it contained could stimulate and infect the surrounding soldiers, enhancing their abilities to a higher level.

However, the Western Qin miscalculated. Qin Feng's strength was far more than that. Due to the appearance of Shu Chang, the madman, the drugs he refined had expanded Qin Feng's meridians and dantian, greatly increasing the amount of energy they could contain. As Qin Feng's internal energy grew stronger, he did not dare to fully unleash it in battle, for once he did, he was very worried about losing control of the backlash. The feeling of being consumed by one's own power was something Qin Feng did not want to experience.

Just thinking about the backlash, where he would burn like a torch on the battlefield, made Qin Feng shudder.

As a commander of the death squad, Qin Feng mostly faced martial artists between the fifth and seventh levels. Opponents at this level were not enough to make him fully unleash his power. On the contrary, by combining the strength of his soldiers, he only needed to use half of his strength to steadily control the situation. If a higher-level martial artist appeared, a more skilled general like Lin Yifu would naturally step in.

Gao Yuan's performance on the battlefield gave the Western Qin a wrong evaluation, and the lack of battles over the past two years also deprived the Western Qin of the opportunity to further assess Qin Feng's strength. By common sense, two years was not enough for a martial artist to undergo a complete transformation.

A slight tingling sensation on his skin indicated that the opponent was launching an attack. Stimulated by this, Gao Yuan's internal energy immediately responded. The iron saber in his hand, which had been unremarkable, now shimmered like a pool of autumn water, and the sound of the saber grew louder.

Qin Feng raised his head and looked at Bian Zheng, who was ten steps away. Just like the silver moon and the mountains, Bian Zheng seemed blurry and unreal. The tingling sensation on his skin grew stronger, and Qin Feng took a step forward.

With just one step, he simply walked out of the attack range. Everything in front of him returned to normal. The iron saber raised high, Qin Feng looked at Bian Zheng mockingly. "Is that all you've got? Then you will truly become the ninth one."

Bian Zheng looked at Qin Feng, who stood calmly in front of him, in shock. Just now, he had used a secret technique of his clan, which should have made the opponent lose their sense of direction and cut off their connection with the natural energy. With his seventh-level strength, a fifth-level opponent should have been completely helpless, at most only able to defend themselves passively and wait for the fatal blow. But Qin Feng had easily walked out of his attack range, and the timing was the most critical moment, just as he was about to strike.

Shaken, the full force of his attack was affected. The iron saber was already coming down on him.

A straightforward overhead slash, with no fancy moves. Just like Qin Feng faced any enemy on the battlefield, whether a general or a soldier, it was just this one slash.

Bian Zheng screamed, his right hand suddenly raised. With a clang, a cold light flashed from his sleeve, and a sword appeared in his hand, blocking the saber.

His body suddenly flew backward. The force from the saber was far beyond Bian Zheng's expectations. Even though his block was a hasty move, using only about seventy to eighty percent of his usual strength, the opponent's strength clearly shocked Bian Zheng. He could not stabilize his stance to block the attack.

The force was secondary; the most critical was the thread-like, scorching heat from the opponent's saber, which invaded his body like fine threads, burning everything in its path, completely consuming his internal energy.

What kind of skill is this? Bian Zheng was terrified. Qin Feng roared and pounced, the iron saber slashing, pursuing with several consecutive strikes.

The sound of metal clashing echoed continuously. Bian Zheng kept retreating, his back hitting trees, which broke one after another. After enduring over ten strikes, the long sword in his right hand could no longer withstand the immense force. The cracks on the blade rapidly expanded, and with a crack, it shattered into pieces before Bian Zheng's terrified eyes.

"Die!" Qin Feng leaped into the air, head down, and the large saber came down again. In Bian Zheng's eyes, at this moment, Qin Feng in the air was like a burning man, his body emitting golden flames, as if he were wearing a dazzling golden armor. The saber had not yet reached, but the ground was already filled with dust and flying debris.

At the moment of life and death, Bian Zheng roared, his hands clasped together, his body curling inward. When he unfolded, a visible aura shield appeared around him.

With no way to avoid it, he could only take the hit. At this moment, Bian Zheng's intestines were filled with regret. The opponent's strength far exceeded the evaluation given by the military and his clan. He was not a fifth-level martial artist who could be easily crushed; his strength was far higher than his usual performance.

With a crisp sound, Qin Feng bounced like a ball, his body soaring over the tall trees, rising a bit higher before landing. Upon landing, Qin Feng staggered slightly, his internal energy churning like boiling water, a terrible feeling.

Qin Feng inwardly cursed. With the previous strike, he had almost used all his strength. The opponent's strength was indeed formidable, and he did not dare to engage in a prolonged battle. If the battle lasted too long, the tyrannical internal energy might rebel, and at that time, he would truly be like fish on a chopping board.

He could only fight a quick and decisive battle. Even so, the burning sensation inside his body was unbearable. He quickly reached into his chest, took out a small bottle, and swallowed a pill.

A cool sensation quickly spread throughout his body, gradually dispelling the burning feeling. Qin Feng sighed in relief, slowly straightening up, and looked at his opponent.

Bian Zheng still stood there, looking at Qin Feng with disbelief in his eyes.

Gradually, a trace of blood appeared on his forehead, quickly spreading. With a crack, Bian Zheng split in two, falling to the ground, blood mist spreading, the stench overwhelming.

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