Chapter 455: Dual Cultivation of Witchcraft and Martial Arts

Wang Feng didn't make any significant moves, waiting until Ye Dun's soul force stabilized. To some extent, their soul force confrontation helped Ye Dun grasp control more quickly.

Ye Dun looked calmly at this carefree guy. He could clearly sense that the moment Heavenly Silkworm Transformation was activated, the soul was at its most sensitive. Though proud, an arrogance that looked down on everyone ran deep in this seemingly carefree man's bones. "Wang Feng, I don’t know where you get the courage to forgo Witchcraft, but we of the Sky Peak Holy Sanctuary never take such advantages. For this fight, use whatever skills you want. My word, Ye Dun’s word, is his bond!"

Ye Dun’s voice echoed across the arena, immediately drawing waves of cheers. Even as a ghost level warrior, Sky Peak’s pride refused to exploit such an unfair edge. Even those who usually disliked Sky Peak couldn't help but admire Ye Dun’s confidence and magnanimity. Truly, he was the undisputed leader of the younger generation in the Holy Sanctuary.

Fu Changtian and the others were momentarily stunned but said nothing. Ye Dun was never reckless—he must have had a plan. Once Heavenly Silkworm Transformation succeeded, he would step into the ghost level. Ye Dun’s combat style inherently countered wizards, and the Celestial Silkworm was a natural counter to Witchcraft. There was truly no need to take such an unfair advantage.

Hawkland couldn’t help but grin, as if a drowning man had suddenly grabbed onto a lifeline—a lifeline!

Wang Feng shrugged. "You’re overthinking it. We of the Rose Holy Sanctuary don’t go back on our word. Letting you have a slight advantage won’t change the outcome. Today is the day the Rose Holy Sanctuary rises to the top!"

A smirk curled at the corner of Wang Feng’s lips as he pointed lightly at Ye Dun in the air, exuding overwhelming confidence.

The entire arena fell silent, even the Sky Peak supporters were speechless. The gathered elites exchanged bewildered glances—was this man an idiot? On the stage, Hawkland slumped back into his chair like a deflated balloon. This… he had lost his damn mind. Why was he even here? If there were a hole, he’d crawl into it—and drag Wang Feng in with him. That damned fool.

A cold glint flashed across Ye Dun’s face before his figure blurred slightly.

Celestial Silkworm—activated!

Bang!

A white streak shot through the air, leaving behind a silver thread-like trail. No sound spread across the arena—Ye Dun’s speed had already surpassed the sound barrier the moment he moved. The sound of his movement lagged behind him, yet he was already there. In the next instant, Ye Dun stood before Wang Feng.

His legs were slightly bent in a low stance, his gleaming eyes like stars in the night sky—deep and calm—locking onto Wang Feng from below. Simultaneously, his arms crossed and slashed forward.

Fast. Unbelievably fast.

Even Mo Tong, a martial arts expert at his level, could barely keep up with Ye Dun’s speed, almost missing his movement entirely.

Ye Dun wasn’t wielding his signature Cicada Wing Knife, yet his hands were sharper than blades—hand blades!

Buzzzz!

A nearly transparent silver soul force coated the edges of his crossed palms, forming contours akin to the Cicada Wing Knife. A ghost-level mimicry technique—this alone showed just how prepared he was. Though newly ascended to the ghost level, he wielded ghost level combat techniques with ease.

With the sound of slicing air, one could clearly see the afterimages of the air being split apart, as though it tore through space itself.

A flash of white light—a massive X-shaped slash instantly cleaved Wang Feng and the surrounding air into four pieces, the spatial fissures clearly visible.

The Rose supporters gasped, but before their cries could escape, Ye Dun showed no signs of stopping. His hand blades slashed repeatedly as he charged forward, passing straight through the bisected ‘Wang Feng.’

An afterimage?

The audience, about to scream, choked back their cries as—

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

Arcing blade trails spread along Ye Dun’s charging path in an instant. The air was filled with faint traces of cuts, while the ‘Wang Feng’ who had seemingly been split apart earlier now left behind overlapping afterimages as he retreated.

He shifted left and right, the afterimages left in his wake like a glitching slideshow, making it impossible to discern his continuous movements. It seemed slow, yet his true speed was unimaginably fast.

Phantom Steps!

The arena was instantly filled with countless afterimages—Ye Dun attacked swiftly, but Wang Feng dodged even faster.

Swoosh! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Unlike the earth-shattering spectacle of the earlier wizard duel, the arena was now filled with intermittent, oppressive sounds of slicing air and footsteps. Gold and silver streaks darted across the ruined arena at blinding speeds.

The silver figure was Ye Dun, resembling a silver scythe of the death god. The crescent blade radiance surged by nearly a hundred units per second, filling the entire space along his path with slashing lights. Coupled with his razor-sharp and ever-unwavering spiritual energy, even a glancing blow meant death, a near miss meant severe injury.

The golden figure was Wang Feng, completely passive under Ye Dun’s relentless onslaught, constantly retreating to evade lethal strikes. A single hit from Ye Dun could end the battle.

The previously buzzing arena had fallen utterly silent. Not just the ordinary spectators—even the peak experts present were awestruck. This was merely the Ghost Initial level, and both had only recently entered the ghost level. Yet, as the saying goes, the proof is in the pudding.

Ye Dun did not disappoint. The Celestial Silkworm traits were fully unleashed in him, granting him control of the battle with effortless ease. But the golden figure was even more surprising. For an ordinary wizard, forget Ghost Initial—even those at Ghost Intermediate wouldn't last five seconds without using Witchcraft. Yet this man could match Ye Dun’s speed?

This speed would trouble even veteran ghost-level warriors. Just what was he?

Hawkland cautiously opened his eyes. He had assumed Wang Feng would be instantly crushed after his bravado… but now he was both shocked and delighted. Even his pale complexion seemed to regain a hint of color. Was this Wang Feng's hidden card? By the gods, Supreme Sage Teacher, please don’t let this be a fleeting moment…

“This man… a wizard?” The principal of Londom's Holy Sanctuary had been laughing the hardest earlier, thrilled to see Rose, who was aligned with Ice Spirit, suffer. But now, his jaw dropped the farthest.

Wang Feng had indeed displayed incredible speed during his battle with Tianzhe Yifeng, but that speed had been within everyone’s comprehension.

Because he was a Thunder Wizard!

Some Thunder Wizards did master lightning's movement attributes, but that was fundamentally different from a Martial Artist’s speed. The nature of spiritual energy propulsion differed—Thunder Wizards could only perform rapid movements over limited distances, meant to gain casting distance. Their movements were rigid, predictable. Martial Artists, on the other hand, moved with fluid flexibility, changing at will. These were two entirely different concepts.

Yet the Wang Feng of this moment, with his flickering afterimages, was nothing like a Thunder Wizard. His agile footwork showed no trace of lightning energy—instead, he moved like a breeze. Compared to Ye Dun’s sharp, lethal precision… Wang Feng was like a gentle wind, light and effortless.

Long Jing, Lucky Heaven, Hei Wukai—the young elite of their generation also watched with rippling gazes. Without a doubt, Wang Feng was not only skilled in Witchcraft but also in martial arts. But top experts knew: Jack of all trades, master of none. Specialization was the true path to power. Given Wang Feng’s achievements in Witchcraft, how much effort could he have devoted to martial arts?

Ye Dun was a specialist in martial arts. Even the slightest gap could decide life or death in battle.

Meanwhile, the Holy Son frowned slightly.

Frankly, the Holy Son wanted Heaven’s Summit to win—he did not wish to see Rose, the symbol of reform, rise. That was an absolute precondition. But that didn’t mean he wanted Heaven’s Summit to win gloriously. Whether it was Ye Dun concealing his true strength or Fu Liye’s token compliance with certain Holy City orders over the years, the relationship between the Holy City and Heaven’s Summit Holy Sanctuary was not as close as outsiders imagined…

So the best outcome would be for Ye Dun to win effortlessly, cementing Heaven’s Summit’s reputation for underhanded tactics against Rose.

Crush Rose, then let Heaven’s Summit lose face in the ensuing backlash, stripping them of their transcendent Holy Sanctuary status. A mutual annihilation, with the Holy City reaping the benefits—that was the Holy Son’s ideal scenario.

But now, Wang Feng’s unexpected performance had shattered that plan. If the two sides engaged in a thrilling back-and-forth, could the Holy City still secure the greatest advantage from the fallout?

On the sidelines, the Li brothers were momentarily stunned, their murderous aura fading. They had assumed Wang Feng had been “traded” under some shady arrangement, betraying their younger sister’s sacrifice. But now…

To be honest, his speed and footwork were astonishing, but upon reflection, perhaps not entirely unexpected.

And they weren’t the only ones thinking this—it was the prevailing sentiment among the VIP seats.

After all, he was Thunder Dragon’s disciple… What kind of man was Thunder Dragon? Just his youthful nickname said it all—Lightning Flash God! “Thunder God” praised his terrifying lightning magic, while “Flash” referred to his speed, surpassing even that of Martial Artists. He was a true master of both Witchcraft and martial arts—otherwise, how could a wizard have trained someone like Karida, a top-tier swordmaster? And even Karida had only inherited Thunder Dragon’s martial arts!

Mastering both Witchcraft and martial arts demanded absolute talent—it wasn’t something a good teacher alone could impart. In the current Nine Gods Continent, those who could truly claim dual mastery at a high level were few and far between. Most leaned heavily toward one discipline, using the other as a supplement. Those who achieved Thunder Dragon’s level of perfect balance could be counted on one hand—and each was a powerhouse in their own right.

But Wang Feng? How old was he? Was he already outshining his master? No wonder he dared to agree not to use Witchcraft—this was his ace up his sleeve. If Ye Dun had truly been at Tiger Peak, Wang Feng’s speed alone would have been enough to toy with him. But this was ghost-level Ye Dun…

The only calm one in the arena was probably Fu Changkong. A faint smile flickered in his eyes: Talking about speed in front of the Celestial Silkworm? Clearly, you know nothing of true velocity. Even if Wang Feng wasn’t going all out, the same applied!

A split-second reaction, a field of afterimages—the back-and-forth offense and defense lasted only a few seconds, like a probing stalemate.

Perhaps having gauged Wang Feng’s evasion rhythm, Ye Dun suddenly pushed off with his left leg, a visible shockwave bursting beneath his foot.

Boom!

Ye Dun’s speed surged by at least thirty percent in an instant, his figure flashing past Wang Feng’s retreating form like a fleeting shadow. His palm-blade slashed out—yet, as if anticipating the acceleration, Wang Feng’s speed increased in perfect sync.

One active, one passive—yet Wang Feng matched him flawlessly. His afterimage shifted inches away at the last moment, barely slipping past the blade’s edge.

But at this moment, a glint flashed in Ye Dun's eyes as his soul power torque surged instantly.

*Buzz!*

The edge of his hand blade, originally extending only a few inches, suddenly expanded several times in size. The palm blade instantly lengthened by at least five or six centimeters, while the faintly translucent soul power turned incandescent white, covered in intricate patterns resembling the veins on a cicada's wing.

A silver blade-arc stretched out abruptly, slashing past Wang Feng’s lingering afterimage and cleaving toward the apparent emptiness ahead.

*Boom~*

Wang Feng's static afterimage suddenly wavered. Instead of retreating, he advanced, raising an arm to interrupt his evasive stance. His elbow blocked the descending blade edge.

Evasion instantly turned into close combat!

Close quarters, deadly dangers.

Ye Dun's left palm blade slashed downward, but Wang Feng, using the momentum against his right elbow, twisted to flank Ye Dun. After all, the Dark Grappling Arts were Old Wang's specialty—he had even taught them to Fantasi.

Yet, Ye Dun's left palm blade instantly shifted into a backward elbow strike. The supersonic strike was silent, but Wang Feng's ghost-level reflexes forced him to halt his assault. He ducked slightly to dodge, but the elbow strike wasn't fully committed. Seizing the moment, Ye Dun's body pivoted instantly to face Wang Feng, delivering a crushing knee strike upward with brutal force. Wang Feng arched his head back to evade, but Ye Dun's bent right knee suddenly straightened, his lower leg whipping upward, the tip of his foot smashing into Wang Feng's lifted chin.

*Boom!*

Their exchange was blurred. In those fleeting moments, even elite Holy Sanctuary disciples like Mo Tong couldn't discern the precise movements—only sensing a rapid series of counters before the golden figure was sent flying backward at a slightly elevated angle!

*Got him!*

The golden figure clearly lost balance midair, yet Ye Dun's expression remained unchanged. Everything was under control. He had expected Wang Feng to have some hidden trump card, but it seemed this was all he had. Though blessed with talent and a master like Thunder Dragon, Wang Feng had bitten off more than he could chew.

Ye Dun spun midair before his feet even touched the ground. Under his ghost-level soul power control, his extended hand blades seemed to detach from his hands.

How could palm blades detach? It was soul pressure—soul pressure sharp as blades.

*Heavenly Silkworm—Gale Slash!*

*Kill~~~~~~~~*

*Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!...*

A barrage of soul slashes pummeled Wang Feng. The entire assault was executed in an instant—flawless as a waterfall, utterly satisfying. The entire Blade faction roared in long-suppressed cheers. This Wang Feng was too freakish. When he matched Ye Dun's speed, even the Blade faction members had doubted—what if he pulled out another freakish move? But now, with Ye Dun unleashing his power, they could finally rejoice.

*This is how it's done!*

Jiaoxi clenched her fist in excitement. Ever since Wang Feng had rejected her invitation to her face, she had held a grudge. And now, he dared to challenge Ye Dun? Though that country bumpkin's sudden burst of speed had nearly made her jaw drop, as long as Ye Dun got serious, was there any opponent he couldn't handle? *Victory!*

In the arena, Ye Dun didn't let up. After landing the Gale Slash, he charged forward, delivering a kick—only for the airborne figure to freeze mid-flight before flickering like ripples and dispersing. Yet another afterimage!

*Where is he?*

Jiaoxi was stunned. Even with her vantage point as a spectator, she couldn't spot Wang Feng's current position.

But if her eyes failed her, the experts in the stands had no such issue. Almost instantly, all eyes shifted toward Ye Dun's location.

*Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!*

Ye Dun finally landed, but the soft impacts numbered four—two more came from behind him.

At the same time, Old Wang's arms had already hooked upward from below—a Dark Grappling Arts Guillotine, the perfect control technique against a nimble, speed-based opponent like Ye Dun. Yet his arms closed on empty air—another afterimage.

*Swoosh~*

The blazing white hand-chop slashed toward the back of Wang Feng's head as he was still mid-movement, but it sliced nothing but air.

*Boom! Boom! Boom!*

The same exchange repeated—both men circled behind each other, attacked, and vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a series of evenly spaced afterimages, piling up seven or eight layers thick. Before anyone could tell who attacked or dodged last—

*Boom!*

Both men disappeared from everyone’s sight. This time, it wasn’t just Jiaoxi who couldn’t keep up—even among the veteran observers in the stands, very few could still track their movements with their naked eyes. But for ghost-level warriors, true combat awareness didn’t rely solely on vision—it depended on sensing and capturing the fluctuations of soul force.

After losing sight of them for a split second, the masters immediately looked up toward the sky. And right at that moment, a ring of gale-force wind exploded above the arena. The deafening sound of collisions and sonic booms echoed through the air in rapid succession.

*Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!*

Ye Dun’s eyes burned with excitement.

He truly hadn’t expected Wang Feng to match his speed completely. Even more surprising was Wang Feng’s close-quarters prowess!

His grappling techniques, his control of positioning and distance, his flawless disarms—all of it forced Ye Dun into a pure physical brawl. Was this a wizard?

Wizard my ass—this was the strongest young Martial Artist Ye Dun had ever seen!

With another deflected palm strike, Ye Dun also evaded Wang Feng’s bone-snapping locks. Both men flipped mid-air, their snapping kicks clashed in a brutal exchange.

*BOOM!*

The tremendous energy clash sent shockwaves rippling through the air, the turbulent winds and backdrafts making the two figures—long vanished from the sight of ordinary spectators—reappear before being flung apart.

*Thud! Clack!*

Wang Feng landed on his feet, while what fell from Ye Dun’s side was his cloak!

A life-and-death battle at lightning speed—anyone else would have died countless times already. Hei Wu Kai’s eyes blazed. This was the kind of fight he craved—or rather, a rare battle that could genuinely threaten him. The strongest Martial Artists danced on the edge of a blade, battling at the closest possible range!

The weak shouldn’t even hope to follow the fight in its entirety. The masters’ gazes now locked onto the space above Wang Feng’s head.

There was nothing there—yet from the empty void, a storm of silver threads erupted.

Innate invisibility and Heavenly Silkworm Threads.