The howling winds atop Howling Wind Ridge abruptly ceased.
A deathly silence blanketed the vast plateau. Thousands of pairs of eyes, from the lofty, high-and-mighty cultivators to the mortal populace, stared in stunned disbelief, converging on the distant crag.
There, a figure dressed in a simple cloak, carrying a matte-black saber on his back, stood in silence. His face was still very young, his features resolute, but his eyes were as profound as the fathomless sea, so terrifyingly tranquil that it made one tremble.
No one knew who this person was. Yet, the ordinary pebble he had casually tossed had effortlessly shattered Lanh Thien Phong's demonic art, the Blood Soul Eye, rescuing the Little Sword God, Thuong Quan Van, from certain death. Such strength absolutely did not belong to a nameless nobody.
The most shaken were those standing in the very eye of the storm. Thuong Quan Van, having just escaped the suppression of the Blood Soul Banner, struggled to stand using his sword as a crutch, his breathing ragged. He looked at the figure on the crag, his eyes brimming with shock and bewilderment. He did not know this person at all.
As for Lanh Thien Phong, after coughing up a mouthful of blood, he staggered backward. He stared toward Tran Kien, the arrogance and cruelty in his eyes replaced by panic and sheer disbelief. He did not recognize Tran Kien. He only sensed an incredibly familiar aura—one that was bright, upright, and the absolute nemesis of the demonic arts he cultivated!
In another corner, the Sixth Elder of the Azure Cloud Sect narrowed his aged eyes. The powerful divine sense of a peak Foundation Establishment cultivator continuously swept over Tran Kien, yet it was like tossing a stone into the vast ocean; he couldn't fathom the youth's depths at all. Just who in the world... is this person? To have restrained his aura to such a degree, he is absolutely no nameless nobody.
Within the crowd, the shadowy figures of the Black Dragon Stronghold had also sensed that something was amiss. They silently gripped their weapons tighter, preparing for any unforeseen variables.
Amidst thousands of converging gazes, Tran Kien paid no heed. From beginning to end, his gaze rested upon only one person.
Lanh Thien Phong.
He said nothing. He merely walked down from the crag, step by slow step. His pace was neither fast nor slow, but every step he took brought with it an invisible, suffocating pressure, causing the surrounding heroes to subconsciously hold their breath.
"Who... who are you?!" Lanh Thien Phong roared, desperately trying to conceal the terror in his heart. "You dare meddle in the affairs of Marquis Vinh An's Estate and my Black Dragon Stronghold?!"
Tran Kien did not reply. He continued to walk forward. The distance between the two rapidly shrank. Three hundred meters. One hundred and fifty meters. Ninety meters.
Only when he was about sixty meters away from Lanh Thien Phong did Tran Kien finally stop.
"It has been two years," he spoke, his voice no longer possessing the clear cadence of a youth, but rather a profound steadiness carrying the vicissitudes of time. "The Young Master of Marquis Vinh An's Estate, it seems you have made some progress."
It has been two years?
Those words exploded like a thunderclap in Lanh Thien Phong's mind. He stood utterly dumbfounded, staring closely at Tran Kien's face. This face... it was somewhat familiar... yet completely different. That aura, that tranquility...
Then, he remembered. The Nightcrying Swamp. The Ghost Gate Canyon. The little bastard who had ruined all of the Black Dragon Stronghold's plans, the very person they had exhausted all their resources searching for over the past two years without a single trace!
"It's you! Tran Kien!" Lanh Thien Phong shrieked in horror, involuntarily taking a step back.
The moment the name "Tran Kien" was uttered, Howling Wind Ridge erupted into an uproar once more.
"Tran Kien? Isn't that the inheritor of the Lac Viet legacy who vanished two years ago?"
"Heavens! He isn't dead! He's returned!"
"The aura radiating from his body... I can't see through it at all! Could it be... has he already broken through to the Foundation Establishment stage?!"
Tran Kien's appearance caused an even greater shockwave than the life-and-death duel that had just occurred.
Thuong Quan Van was also stunned. Only now did he realize that his savior was the mysterious youth who had stirred up massive waves at the Divine Weapon Pavilion, the very same person that Duke Dingguo's Estate and his Thuong Quan Clan had been secretly searching for over the past two years.
"You... you're not dead?" Lanh Thien Phong stammered, entirely unable to conceal the dread in his heart. He wasn't afraid of Tran Kien's strength; he was terrified of the youth's scheming mind. He feared that he had once again stumbled into one of his traps.
"Naturally, I am not dead," Tran Kien replied, his voice as cold as ice. "I must live, in order to collect a few blood debts. Today, I did not come here to meddle in your affairs. I came here... for you."
He pointed his matte-black saber straight at Lanh Thien Phong.
"Lanh Thien Phong, you have fallen into the Demonic path, becoming a running dog for the Black Dragon Stronghold and butchering the common people. Your crimes reach the Heavens. Today, I, Tran Kien, shall stand right here and challenge you to a life-and-death duel. Do you dare accept?!"
A challenge!
Open, upright, and unyielding!
Lanh Thien Phong froze. He never expected Tran Kien to do this. He had assumed Tran Kien was going to employ some devilish scheme or trap. But no, the youth had chosen the most direct, most domineering method possible.
"Hahaha!" Lanh Thien Phong suddenly burst into laughter, using the manic sound to mask his terror. "Challenge me? Who do you think you are?! My cultivation base is already at the Mid-Foundation Establishment stage, while you..."
He swept his divine sense over Tran Kien's body, then laughed even louder.
"Hahaha! So you are merely at the Early Foundation Establishment stage! You just broke through, yet you dare to act so arrogantly? Fine! I accept your challenge! Today, I will teach you what true power is!"
His reason had been clouded by his own arrogance and contempt. He believed that with a sub-realm advantage in cultivation, coupled with his demonic arts and demonic artifacts, victory was already firmly in his grasp. He wanted to use Tran Kien's very head to wash away the humiliations of the past.
Tran Kien said nothing more. He turned to look at the still-bewildered Thuong Quan Van.
"Young Master Thuong Quan," he clasped his hands in a martial salute. "This battle is between him and me. I must trouble you to step back. The kindness shown by Duke Dingguo's Estate and the Thuong Quan Clan, I, Tran Kien, shall etch into my heart."
With that, not waiting for Thuong Quan Van to reply, his body blurred. He appeared squarely in the center of the arena, standing face-to-face with Lanh Thien Phong.
The atmosphere atop Howling Wind Ridge grew heavy once more. The duel that had supposedly ended was now replaced by a battle far more highly anticipated.
On one side stood the Eldest Young Master of Marquis Vinh An's Estate—a man who had fallen to the Demonic path, utterly wicked and arrogant.
On the other stood the mysterious inheritor of the Lac Viet legacy—tranquil and unfathomably profound.
This was no longer a mere spar. This was a clash between two paths, two destinies.
And it would only end... when one of them fell.