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墨書 Inktalez
After the holiday ended, life was relatively calm for an entire month. The only exception was Liu Lianyue, who would anxiously ask when someone could come over. Occasionally, there were also moments of teasing from Liang Wuxuan at school.
For some reason, Liang Wuxuan particularly enjoyed doing strange things to Yang Xiaoyou when Liu Lianyue was present, and it seemed that she herself would get quite excited during those times.
This left Yang Xiaoyou feeling a mix of pain and pleasure.
During this period, Zhao Chen, the Leader, also clearly felt a heavy sense of oppression, which even affected his usual facade. One could imagine the pressure he was under at that moment.
Undoubtedly, under external pressure, his passive improvement speed was quite rapid. He had already regained some semblance of his former self, and sometimes his strategies and arrangements left Yang Xiaoyou feeling quite emotional. People like them didn’t have their own hardware but could still suppress themselves to some extent. It was hard to accept; if it weren't for the peculiarities in their thought patterns, they would indeed be far behind.
However, no matter how strong Zhao Chen's tactics were, without powerful allies backing him up, facing direct special operations left him exhausted. For now, he could barely maintain the status quo by forcibly mobilizing the grassroots warriors to create a deterrent.
This forced their faction not to push too hard. Yet against the slow grind of being boiled like frogs in warm water, they were continuously consumed. It was evident that the style of the Tongtang Party Headquarters had changed significantly recently. An exceptionally capable mastermind was making arrangements and plans. Although their ideas weren’t as innovative as Zhao Chen’s youthful approach or daringly eccentric routes, they possessed enough shrewdness—much like the difference between Mo Wenfu and Fia.
In such circumstances, coupled with a significant advantage in strength, the headquarters' encroachment speed was increasing rapidly.
At the same time, stimulated by Dream Butterfly, Yang Xiaoyou's cellular characteristics ensured that he wouldn’t decline due to reduced training. Thus, he focused heavily on mental aspects.
He wanted his realm to align with his flesh rather than previously trying to push his flesh to its limits before refining his spirit.
The previous helpless choice stemmed from an unclear outlook on solely training his spirit; after all, in his memories, his strongest aspect was still that humanoid giant-like power.
In Feng Ji's words, this was a method of methods.
Even at his peak in memory, simply nurturing in the Spirit Realm paled compared to the current yet-to-reach-its-strongest state of Dream Butterfly's main personality—not to mention that completely unfathomable inner personality.
Given this situation, he naturally prepared to flourish in multiple areas.
This aligned perfectly with his need for a quiet life; it complemented each other well and prevented him from being overly cautious like before—avoiding stepping on bugs or helping old ladies cross the street.
With the skills he picked up while taking care of Dream Butterfly during summer break, he found them sufficient for digestion over a considerable period.
The only downside was that every time he went to practice at Monsoon Shrine, Feng Lin expressed her dissatisfaction with him.
As for why there was such a feeling, Yang Xiaoyou only remembered that after the first weekend of the new school term, when he began to use the techniques taught by Dream Butterfly in that environment, Feng Lin had simply said lightly, "Did she teach you that?"
Although her tone was very calm and she didn’t specify who "she" was, it seemed like it didn’t matter to her. However, Yang Xiaoyou clearly felt that the time Feng Lin spent watching him had increased.
Moreover, during their occasional sparring sessions, her strikes had become noticeably heavier.
By a clear stream, surrounded by the vibrant greenery of midsummer, the sound of the water babbling created a beautiful melody.
In this area, two figures were now moving swiftly and intertwining with each other.
With indifferent eyes and an aura that radiated a deathly presence, one figure seemed to dominate everything around them. This figure was none other than Yang Xiaoyou!
At this moment, the aura he emitted was clearly that of someone who had merged their power, resembling a god king overlooking all living things in the world!
However, before him stood a figure that felt out of place, like a rock in the sea enduring the winds and waves without budging—Feng Lin.
This time, unlike their previous sparring sessions, Feng Lin's longsword was already drawn. The seemingly unremarkable blade effortlessly sliced through a falling leaf as it descended, splitting it into two pieces with just the force of its fall.
What was rare was that there was a serious look in Feng Lin's eyes, as if she sensed pressure.
The scratch on Yang Xiaoyou's sleeve and the cracks on the ground beneath Feng Lin’s feet indicated that they had already exchanged blows. Neither had gained a significant advantage before breaking apart.
"Hmph." The scratch on his shoulder seemed to provoke Yang Xiaoyou severely. With a cold snort, he stepped forward.
In that instant of acceleration, his figure burned away like black flames as he moved forward.
Just as his figure began to dissipate!
The air in the entire space seemed to solidify!
A heavy sense of oppression descended, and the nearby vegetation swayed as if it were under immense pressure, despite the absence of wind.
It was an aura reminiscent of a god-king, ruling over all things in the world, its presence magnified geometrically, far stronger than when it first appeared.
As if provoked by the rocks beneath the sea, a wave of energy gathered, threatening to erase everything in its path.
Faced with this sudden pressure, Feng Lin hesitated not for a moment. He pivoted lightly, his graceful movements giving rise to a magnificent and dreamlike sword strike that sliced through the empty space.
The sword seemed to drain the air around it, creating a tremendous suction force. Guided by some unseen power, it carried with it an intent to sever life and death, piercing through the wheel of fate.
In that instant, where there had been nothing but emptiness, a finger made of Phantom Flame materialized out of thin air. It gently tapped the side of the blade, producing a resonant sound that echoed like a bell.
With that single 'ding', time itself seemed to freeze; all surrounding vegetation fell silent.
The stillness lasted but a moment, yet felt eternal.
Harnessing the power of this strike, Yang Xiaoyou's figure emerged alongside the flickering flames. He flipped upward, evading the sword that sought to sever life from death.
However, just as he soared into the air, his body suddenly stiffened for an instant, as if he had lost all strength and became exceedingly vulnerable.
In that moment, a faster shadow darted in and collided with him, sending him flying as if he were nothing more than a bundle of straw.
It was then that Feng Lin swiftly grasped the end of that shadow. With a light turn of his body, he redirected the force into the ground and pulled it back—revealing it to be his own sheath.
With a sharp 'clang', as he sheathed his sword while turning to dissipate the force, the entire motion appeared seamless and natural, embodying an exquisite beauty akin to a scene from a painting.
The ground seemed to have caved in slightly, as if it had collapsed under the immense force of interaction, with spiderweb-like cracks appearing around the edges.
A simple gesture infused with the power of Dominion Will was terrifyingly potent!
“Ugh, my breakfast…” Yang Xiaoyou groaned, clutching his stomach and half-kneeling on the ground, seemingly on the verge of vomiting. He quickly closed his mouth and raised a hand to cover it, his eyes bulging as he struggled to hold back. After a moment, he managed to swallow hard, followed by a fit of dry coughing.
At this point, the aura he had initially exuded had completely faded, leaving him looking like his usual self.
Looking at the fingers that were pressed against the blade's side, one could see circles of silver threads forming around them. The fingers themselves bore several blood streaks caused by the tension of these tightened silver threads under external pressure.
These were from his Special Bracers, which seemed to utilize a unique technique to alleviate the pressure.
Meanwhile, Feng Lin, who had sheathed her weapon, approached and calmly remarked, “Eleven Seconds.”
Although her tone was calm, the fluctuations in her eyes revealed that she was not at ease. When Yang Xiaoyou emitted that fusion aura, even she felt an immense pressure. If it weren't for what seemed like a time limit on Consumption, it would have been uncertain whether that final strike would be effective.
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