Chapter 457: Hard to Get Excited

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"It's not any illusion," Li Fusu's eyes flashed with intensity. "...That's Shadow Kill! How old is he?"

Shadow Kill, a high-level technique even among ghost-level assassins, creates actual clones with offensive capabilities that are extremely difficult to distinguish. Moreover, when both the clone and the true body strike the target simultaneously, they trigger a soul force resonance effect, causing internal explosions—a mandatory killing technique for assassins.

"The clone's blade technique is almost indistinguishable from the real body... This guy was practically born to be an assassin!"

As if they were part of his body, the soul force threads danced at Ye Dun's fingertips, guiding six razor-sharp blades with perfect precision. Six cold gleams struck simultaneously!

The Heavenly Silkworm Twin Blades were already beyond the comprehension of Holy Sanctuary disciples, and now, with six blades unleashed, any hope of discerning the details vanished instantly. A tempest of blade shadows obscured everyone's vision in an instant.

Shadow Kill—Six-Blade Style!

Not just the Holy Sanctuary disciples, even Old Wang felt an overwhelming pressure like a raging storm. The acute senses granted by the Insect God species allowed him to track Ye Dun's attack trajectories with ease—that part wasn't too difficult. The real challenge lay in the sheer speed of the blades. The two clones effectively doubled the number of strikes Wang Feng had to defend against, as if leaping from arrows to cannon fire in an instant.

Holding back was no longer an option. Wang Feng's soul force erupted in an instant—Boom!

Golden soul flames erupted violently midair, the intense soul pressure disrupting Ye Dun's blade speed while Wang Feng's own movement speed skyrocketed. Like a streak of golden light, he dodged through the storm of silver blade arcs with uncanny precision.

Golden and silver flashes intertwined in rapid succession, their interwoven light trails painting the sky.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Wang Feng danced through the blade storm like a specter, narrowly evading lethal strikes each time—a jaw-dropping display. But how long could pure defense last? Was he really staking his life just to experience Ye Dun's techniques firsthand?

The concept of "dual cultivation" in both sorcery and martial arts existed, but it demanded far more time and effort than specializing in one. Even the Holy Sanctuary's elders had debated—had Thunder Dragon focused solely on one path, he might have ascended to Holy Lord instead of fading into seclusion. Who would have thought he'd let his disciple tread the same difficult path?

No one knew—not even Fu Changkong. His expression remained calm, though tinged with concern, yet also filled with anticipation.

Frankly, the battle had long exceeded his expectations.

Setting aside Wang Feng—Ye Dun's performance alone had surpassed his predictions. Using the Heavenly Silkworm Transformation to break through to ghost level was a virtually guaranteed success, but the actual strength gained depended on Ye Dun's accumulated experience, his comprehension of combat, and how far he had transcended conventional techniques. If his understanding of battle remained at Tiger Peak level, even ghost-level soul force wouldn't elevate his combat prowess significantly.

For anyone else, grasping ghost-level combat while still at Tiger Peak would be nearly impossible. But this was Ye Dun. Given his background, exposure to "ghost-level" battles was effortless—his sparring partners were all "ghost-level." Fu Changkong had initially estimated that Ye Dun's combat comprehension would reach the standard of an early-stage ghost-level practitioner, which was already exceptional.

Yet the Six-Blade Style surpassed even that. Mastering six blades simultaneously was something Ye Dun, at Tiger Peak, had no chance to practice—even if he conceptualized it, his soul force reactions couldn't keep up. This had to be his first time using the Six-Blade Style, yet he wielded it with flawless execution? This...

Even Fu Changkong was stunned, he couldn't help but admire. He had always been harsh on his grandson, never once offering praise. But now—yes, Ye Dun couldn't practice the Six-Blade Style at Tiger Peak, yet it was clear he had rehearsed it countless times in his mind.

Unparalleled foresight, adaptability, broad vision, and unimaginable effort—this was a man who mastered techniques the moment his soul force reached the required level. Fu Changkong had once worried that excessive restraint might dull Ye Dun's edge, but now he saw it had only fueled his drive. With this level of talent, how could Wang Feng possibly compare?

Seventy percent effort? Fifty percent? Ye Dun's limits defied conventional logic!

With such an outstanding grandson, what regrets could Fu Changkong have? Why obsess over the battle's outcome, schemes, or calculations?

A sense of serenity washed over Fu Changkong. He could trust Ye Dun completely—leave everything to him. All he needed to do was sit quietly in the stands and await the final result.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The sky echoed with sonic booms, but tracking the fighters by sound was impossible—by the time the noise reached you, they had already moved on.

Ye Dun's eyes shone with astonishment and exhilaration.

If earlier he had fought with the Heavenly Silkworm Transformation for the sake of Zenith's honor, now he was wholly immersed in the thrill of battling a worthy opponent. Breaking through to ghost level via the Heavenly Silkworm Transformation meant the stronger his foe, the better it would solidify his state and deepen his ghost-level comprehension.

This was his first time using the Six-Blade Style, yet the sensation of absolute control matched—no, surpassed—the countless mental rehearsals. And yet, Wang Feng still matched him move for move!

Then...

Shadow Kill—Eight-Blade Flow!

Another clone materialized in an instant. Though it was just one more clone and two additional Cicada Wing Knives, the breakthrough beyond limits brought a pressure that spiked exponentially!

Wang Feng's pupils narrowed a fraction.

Shing... shing... shing!

In just an instant, blood splattered!

Rose's stands fell deathly silent. Hawkland's expression, previously filled with anticipation and excitement, instantly transformed into gut-wrenching dread.

Wang Feng's speed had clearly reached its limit, no less than Ye Dun's, but the boost in attack speed from the opponent's clones was simply too great, defying the limits of peer-level speed.

Shing! Shing! Shing!

In a heartbeat, several more exchanges occurred. With each clash, frost-glinted blades carved shallow gashes on Wang Feng's body. Blood began to spill in the air. There was a limit to evasion—many times, Wang Feng had no choice but to bleed to buy breathing room. The hearts of all Rose supporters lurched into their throats, while the Sky Dome Fans couldn't hold back their cheers, as if victory was already in their grasp.

Yet, the experts in the stands remained fixated, their expressions grave and silent.

Though Wang Feng appeared wounded and his speed fully suppressed, his movement and spacing were simply too outstanding. Every strike skirted death by inches, every strike dodged the true edge of the blade—he evaded at the smallest cost. In battles between elites, even a single breath could turn the tide, let alone such minor injuries. In this fight, neither had any room for retreat.

"Wang Feng's level is good, but he underestimated Ye Dun's strength."

"Arrogant, perhaps, but his response is decent. Knowing his combat skills can't match, he opts for defense and counterattack, waiting for Ye Dun to make a mistake before launching a desperate strike—his only chance at victory."

"Thunder Dragon has been biding his time for so long... A damn shame. His disciple still underestimated the opponent."

A group of *ghost-level* experts whispered among themselves, speaking lightly, but their eyes were filled with envy. Who wouldn’t be happy to have such a disciple, such a legacy? The Thunder Dragon–Holy Lord feud was no secret among the higher-ups. Back then, Rose was nearly finished, only for Karida to turn the tide. Just when it seemed Rose would fall again, Wang Feng emerged. But alas, the final step fell short.

Long Jing's gaze glittered. Wang Feng losing... was actually good for him. Such talent, if only he could be swayed to serve the Nine Gods—what a great asset he would be. To bring him back, Long Jing would gladly give the nudge he needs.

Light crisscrossed through the air as four figures simultaneously flashed past Wang Feng. But when they spun around again, the four figures wavered slightly—then forcibly conjured yet another clone.

Five figures. Five Ye Duns. Ten Cicada Wing Knives.

Shadow Kill—Ten Blade Style!

Heaven-Earth Net—Hiss!

The dense blade flashes instantly merged into an impenetrable silver curtain, surging toward Wang Feng like a tidal wave!

At that moment, Wang Feng's golden pupils flashed. His body dissolved into light, like a razor-thin needle, piercing straight through the unbroken silver screen.

Shing!

The golden thread and silver brilliance crossed paths in an instant. Ye Dun's clones vanished. The two figures—one gold, one silver—finally came to a complete standstill, hovering back-to-back a dozen meters apart.

The *ghost-level* experts in the stands slightly opened their mouths, eyes wide with disbelief, as if they couldn't trust what they were seeing.

The ordinary spectators gaped, uncomprehending, at the two motionless figures in the air.

What happened? What exactly just occurred? Who won? Who lost?

Plink... plink...

Lacerations spiderwebbed across Wang Feng's arms, legs, and chest. Thin trails of blood gathered, dripping from his fingers onto the ground.

A dozen meters behind him, Ye Dun hovered in the air, his white robes now blooming crimson with a trace of blood... Was it Wang Feng's?

Whoosh~~~

A faint red mark appeared right in the center of his forehead, then deepened into a vivid crimson, growing redder and more distinct. Soon, the blood-stained skin parted slightly, and a trickle of blood slid down from the center of his forehead, tracing along his porcelain-white, aristocratic nose before dripping from the tip.

He's injured? Ye Dun is injured?

Even Clara and Mo Tong were completely gaping in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Surviving such an attack was already a miracle—how could he have counterattacked?

A faint whirring sound echoed as two Cicada Wing Knives twirled between Wang Feng’s fingers, mimicking the precise flourish Ye Dun had used earlier with his dual blades!

Everyone’s jaws dropped in unison. Those below the ghost-level had no idea what had just transpired, but at least now they could clearly see—were those… Ye Dun’s knives?

Wang Feng seemed completely indifferent to the pain of his wounds, leisurely spinning the Cicada Wing Knives as he turned around.

Almost simultaneously, Ye Dun slowly turned as well. His tongue flicked out, catching the blood dripping from his nose—unfazed, almost pleased, a faint, increasingly excited smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "Interesting."

"Very interesting." The Holy Son’s eyes gleamed as well. Frankly, he had truly become fascinated with Wang Feng!

No one had ever heard of a ghost-level daring to pull off something like this. Ye Dun was a master of the assassin’s path—this was like playing chicken with a pyromaniac!

Brutal, daring, precise—his strength aside, with such a mindset, failing to recruit someone like this into the Holy City would be an immense regret!

Hei Wukai’s pupils were now fully alight, brimming with excitement—greater than he had ever felt before!

He was growing increasingly suspicious that Wang Feng’s earlier claim of having a "black hole syndrome" had been a lie… Did it even exist? Had Wang Feng said that back then simply because he didn’t want to bully Hei Wukai, who was still at the Tiger Peak realm? To be honest, before Dragon City, even if he had fully unleashed his Ghost Yasha manifestation, he likely wouldn’t have been a match for Wang Feng as he was now.

Hahaha, he had been underestimated by Old Wang back then! And to think he had felt so pleased with himself at the time.

No, his fingers twitched—so badly he couldn’t stand it! Once this battle was over, he absolutely had to make Wang Feng fight him!

Those who understood were awestruck, while those who didn’t were left bewildered. The entire arena was silent.

Hawkland’s mouth hung open, his face a mix of shock and delight, his heart had lurched countless times. His hand never left his chest—without pressing down firmly, he felt his heart might leap right out of his throat.

In contrast, Fu Changkong beside him had completely calmed down. Whether it was Ye Dun or Wang Feng at this moment, he defied all prediction with conventional logic. His grandson’s performance had already surpassed his expectations—this battle was beyond his control! Since he couldn’t influence it, why not wait quietly?

"It seems everyone was deceived by your facade." The battle lust in Ye Dun’s eyes intensified. For the first time, he felt a future he couldn’t grasp. Even when facing Long Feixue and Hei Wukai in Dragon City—both stronger than him at the time—he had never felt this way. After all, the Heavenly Silkworm Transformation was his ultimate trump card. But now, against Wang Feng…

"Only those who frequently walk the razor's edge would dare to pull off a blade-stealing move like that." Ye Dun’s eyes blazed with intensity. In that moment, he actually felt a sense of awe and beauty—dancing on the razor’s edge was the very essence of an assassin’s pursuit. Without a doubt, this man before him was the finest opponent, the perfect catalyst to push his assassin’s path to new heights!

"What are you talking about?"

Old Wang chuckled. Dancing on the edge of life and death? There probably wasn’t anyone in this world who had done so more times than him. After all… what gamer didn’t die a few times every day?

At first, it was thrilling, but over time, even getting excited or nervous became difficult. As the old saying went—practice makes perfect.

"I don’t get it at all. But…" The Cicada Wing Knives whirled like windmills in Old Wang’s hands as a grin split his lips, as if reigniting the excitement of storming demonic strongholds back in the day. "You’ve been attacking for so long—shouldn’t it be my turn now?"

Ye Dun smirked, but before he could respond, Wang Feng’s figure suddenly vanished.

Swish!

A blade became a golden arc—Ye Dun’s pupils contracted sharply.

So fast. Even faster than before. And…

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

One golden streak—no, quintuple afterimages, five lethal arcs—attacks obscured the sun itself!—the Cicada Wing Knives' true power unleashed!

Not only did Ye Dun's pupils contract, but even the eyes of those ghost-level powerhouses in the VIP seats instantly narrowed.

Was this Ye Dun's move just now?

Th-this... this is an assassin's technique, one of the killing moves countless ghost-level assassins dream of mastering. He just saw Ye Dun use it once, and he can already mimic it? Is this some kind of sick joke?

In an instant, golden light dazzled the air.

Shadow Kill: Ten-Blade Flow!

A true Shadowless Kill. Though lacking the Cicada Wing Knife, power at this level meant even hand blades posed sufficient threat.

Wang Feng's hand blades shone with golden light, broader than the ones Ye Dun had used earlier, yet similarly veined and thin as cicada wings—as if he were wielding ten Cicada Wing Knives simultaneously!

Ordinary spectators and Holy Sanctuary disciples could only stare dumbfounded. To their eyes, all they saw were crisscrossing golden and silver lights on the field, with perhaps a bit more gold now. But the big shots in the VIP seats were truly about to lose their minds.

This was Five-Shadow Kill! This was Ten-Blade Flow!

For Ye Dun, who was literally an assassin by trade, pulling off such a move at twenty was already astonishing enough—yet still within the realm of imagination. But this Wang Feng?

What the actual hell?!

Even Fu Changkong, with all his experience, wanted to scream curses. How?! A guy who started with runes, reaching the pinnacle of the rune world at his age, was shocking enough. Then it turned out he was also a Spirit Beastmaster, dominating all Tiger Peak disciples in the Holy Sanctuary. Fine, that could still be accepted—after all, beastmasters rely on auxiliary skills and bottomless coffers. But soon, people discovered he was also a wizard, one who could defeat Tianzhe Yifeng, and worse, a freakish Witchcraft-martial arts hybrid like Thunder Dragon!

Sure, his master Thunder Dragon was a versatile master, excelling in runes, Witchcraft, and martial arts, but Thunder Dragon only rose to fame after thirty. How old was Wang Feng? Even if he started learning and training from the womb, twenty years wouldn’t be enough to master so much!

Fine! Suppose we grudgingly accept that too. But now? He’s... he’s goddamn well an assassin too...

This must be a ghost who forgot to drink Meng Po’s soup, bringing memories from a past life! Otherwise, even with twenty years of nonstop, sleepless training and a heaven-sent brain, no one could learn this much! For your next reading convenience, you can click the "Collect" below to record this reading session (Chapter 457: Hard to Get Excited). Next time you open the bookshelf, you'll see it!

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