Chapter 61: Bloodline Connection
Chapter 61: Bloodline Connection
He worshiped the sky, ascending toward heaven in a single step!
Mu Feng stood completely still on the edge of the cliff, hungrily swallowing the vast and pure Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy in the air like a whale gulping seawater.
A savage blood-red armor appeared on his body once more, radiating a scorching wave of heat as the Spiritual Power inside him surged higher and higher.
Gradually, the smooth stone slabs beneath his feet grew searing hot, and the air around warped and distorted in waves.
From afar, his facial features became indistinct, and all that could be faintly seen was the unnerving Blood Armor.
Impressive!
Brother Mu Feng, what cultivation technique are you really practicing? Flaming Blade, or perhaps the Blazing Heaven Technique?
The intense wave of heat forced Mu Qingzhu to back away to the very edge of the Heavenward Platform.
Staring at the savage Blood Armor on Mu Feng’s body, a deep terror welled up inside her uncontrollably; if she hadn’t seen his cultivation herself, she’d have thought he was some Devil Leader!
That overwhelming presence didn’t seem like that of an ordinary disciple at the Early Mortal Realm who hadn’t cultivated for long—it was scarier than even a Green Armor Guard at the Middle Mortal Realm!
“The last half-step, just a little bit more…”
After a long while, Mu Feng let out a sigh, the strong, steady rise and fall of his abdomen gradually easing as he slowly opened his eyes.
The fearsome Blood Armor on his body then faded away completely.
With the massive influx of Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy, the feeling of effortless drift and soaring upward grew stronger and stronger, as if something in his mind was about to burst forth—a sign of his Spiritual Soul nearly leaving his body.
If he had pushed through smoothly, he could have broken through to the Middle Mortal Realm in one go.
Sadly, though the feeling intensified, he couldn’t cross that final half-step right away.
“Brother Mu Feng, are you sure you’re truly only at the Early Mortal Realm?” Mu Qingzhu glanced Mu Feng up and down, recalling his frightening appearance earlier; her heart still raced wildly.
“If I can’t even make my Spiritual Soul leave my body, am I at the advanced stage instead of the Early Mortal Realm?”
Mu Feng chuckled, taking out a small bottle from his pocket and carefully opening the lid.
The Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada, no larger than a grain of rice, lay quietly at the bottom of the bottle with its eyes still closed; only its wings twitched occasionally, looking utterly listless.
After a thoughtful pause, Mu Feng focused his energy to force out a drop of essence blood, letting it drip directly into the bottle.
Drip…
The thick drop of blood immersed the tiny cicada.
When viewed through the translucent bottle, the young creature seemed motionless, but with careful observation, it could be seen opening its mouth wide to devour the fresh blood eagerly.
Shortly after, a feeling of shared bloodline came from it—intimate and harmonious, mixed with a wild, savage sensation and a thirst for blood.
Its twelve new wings gave a gentle flap, causing the air inside the bottle to hum with vibrations; they fluttered hundreds of times in just a breath, moving at an astonishing speed.
Impressive!
Mu Feng’s expression turned serious as he quickly capped the bottle, worried the young creature might suddenly fly away.
This little thing couldn’t be taken lightly; not only was it fierce and terrifying, but it also had an unclear tie to the sinister Ghost Mother.
One small mistake could lead to serious trouble.
Seeing him so cautious, Mu Qingzhu widened her eyes in curiosity.
“Brother Mu Feng, what is that?”
“A sword, a double-edged sword!”
Mu Feng carefully hid the bottle close to his body; noticing the sun beginning to set, he shouted a farewell to Mu Qingzhu and departed first.
In a few leaps and bounds, he vanished from sight, heading as promised to the Stone Mountain in the Hundred Thousand Mountains.
“A sword?”
Behind him, Mu Qingzhu stood baffled for a long time; only after confirming he was far away did she take out a copper bell and shake it, speaking up toward the sky.
“All right, Sister Qingling, come out! So, how is Brother Mu Feng’s talent? Not bad, right?”
As soon as the bell rang, the mist in the air began to part, revealing a cold-faced young woman in white robes—precisely the acclaimed genius Mu Qingling.
Her pristine body gradually emerged from the fog, icy expression unchanged, with a wisp of blood energy wound around her finger.
She ignored Mu Qingzhu’s question, lost in thought.
“Hmm, savage and bloodthirsty, could it be… is he the one Master sought?”
The moment Mu Feng concentrated in his cultivation, with the Blood Armor appearing on his body, Mu Qingling, hidden in the mist, suddenly caught a trace of an oddly familiar aura.
“What master, Sister Qingling? What are you saying?”
Mu Qingzhu was utterly confused, not understanding what Mu Qingling in the sky meant.
She had only just persuaded this genius, Mu Qingling, to help her evaluate Mu Feng’s potential and see if there was any way to boost his strength quickly.
News of Mu Feng crippling the two big bullies had already spread throughout the city.
Since neither Mu Qingyuan nor Jianning Commandant were ordinary men, Mu Qingzhu grew more anxious than Mu Feng himself after hearing the news.
After much pleading, she finally talked Mu Qingling into lending a hand.
“His talent is passable, but… he reeks too much of murderous intent. Qingzhu, it’s best if you steer clear of him from now on!”
Mu Qingling’s voice was icy; she flicked her right hand, and the blood energy from her finger drifted away in the wind.
She stood up and stepped away; her figure rapidly faded into the distance, disappearing into the endless fog as she returned to the Smokeless Grotto-Heaven.
“Hey, don’t go, Sister Qingling! Not yet…” Seeing her say just one sentence before leaving, Mu Qingzhu stomped her foot in frustration on the Heavenward Platform.
Sadly, no matter how loudly she called, it made no difference; Mu Qingling’s figure became smaller and smaller until it vanished almost instantly, leaving only her frosty voice lingering faintly from the mist.
“Mu… Mu Tie is about to return, tell… tell him to b… be careful. Handle this well… take care of himself…”
Mu Tie?
The Chief Transmission Disciple, hailed as the head young master of Mu Manor, the cultivation prodigy on par with Sister Qingling, Mu Tie?
Hearing this, Mu Qingzhu jolted in alarm, realizing her fears were justified; she stomped her foot once more and hurried away.
Originally, she aimed to quickly warn Mu Feng about this shocking news in advance, but after searching for ages, she couldn’t find a trace of him—with night falling, she had no idea where he’d run off to.
As she worriedly scoured all around, deep within the Mu Manor’s grotto-heaven, in a place hidden by year-round fog that ordinary people couldn’t reach, the figure of a young woman suddenly appeared.
It was none other than Mu Qingling herself, always so cold toward her clanmates in her single-minded pursuit of cultivation.
She formed a hand seal, and the thick mist parted to each side, revealing a massive ancient Altar Platform.
Seated motionless on the ancient Altar Platform was a woman in white robes.
Her breath barely noticeable, surrounded by biting cold, she seemed like a thousand-year-old ice statue without a shred of life.
A closer look showed delicate, refined features; her white robe was spotless, making her resemble an immortal fairy descended from heaven, untouched by worldly affairs.
Mu Wuyan!
If Mu Feng had been there, he would have seen this woman seated on the Altar Platform—the very person who had once fought the Ghost Mother evenly atop a mountain peak.
After leaving the Heavenward Platform, Mu Qingling swiftly returned to the Smokeless Grotto-Heaven and bowed gracefully to the woman on the Altar Platform.
“Master, I’ve found a lead on your assignment; in an ordinary disciple of Mu Manor named Mu Feng, I detected a similar aura—just as bloodthirsty and savage!”
“I already know, Qingling; you may withdraw. From now on, you needn’t concern yourself with this matter.”
Contrary to Mu Qingling’s expectations, this Master seated on the Altar spoke coldly, showing no sign of surprise or interest in her finding, as if she had known all along.
Seeing the mist gradually closing in from both sides, Mu Qingling didn’t dare disturb her Master’s meditation; she bowed again and silently turned to depart.
“Hurricane Over the Ridge, the grass survives by staying low—a young man who could paint such a scene truly is worthy of high hopes!”
Mu Qingling pulled out her copy of the Hurricane Over the Ridge painting to study it closely once again; her form vanished little by little into the boundless fog.