20: Counter-attack and powerful enemy

As the morning light just spilled over the wooden fence of the Azure Dragon Camp, Lin Yang had already walked out of the camp gate with an empty pack on his back.

Dewdrops landed on his Dark-colored Tight-fitting Suit, creating small dark spots, and the iron ring of the firewood knife at his waist clinked softly with his steps, interweaving with the birdsong from the distant mountain forest.

He intended to go deeper into Qingmeng Mountain today to find higher-grade Vicious Beasts and attempt to break through the barrier of the Houtian Eighth Layer.

Just as he passed through the defensive formation outside the camp, two figures suddenly flashed out from behind a large rock on the left, blocking his path.

Feng Kun's arm was wrapped in thick bandages and hung from his neck. His triangular eyes glared viciously at Lin Yang, as if he wanted to devour him alive.

Standing beside him was a young man in a gray shirt. He was thin and tall, his face so gloomy it could drip water. His right index finger was unconsciously rubbing the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white from the force—it was none other than Sun Futong, an Inner Sect Disciple of the White Cloud Sect, with a cultivation base at the Peak of the Houtian Eighth Layer, quite famous among the younger generation in the camp.

"Lin Yang, daring to hurt my White Cloud Sect Disciple and still acting so tyrannically in the camp, today I will let you know what it means to be truly insignificant!"

Sun Futong's voice sounded like it had been tempered in ice. Before the words even faded, the long sword at his waist had already unsheathed with a "clang."

The sword blade was long and narrow, shimmering with a faint blue light. Although the silver bell on the sword tassel did not move, an unstoppable Sword Qi was already rushing toward his face.

Lin Yang narrowed his eyes, staring at the patterns on that sword—the spine of the sword was engraved with intricate lightning patterns; it was the standard configuration for the "Startling Lightning Sword," the famous sword technique of the White Cloud Sect.

This Yellow Rank High Grade Martial Skill was priced at 30,000 points at the camp's exchange, something ordinary Disciples could never hope to reach.

"Startling Lightning Sword?" Lin Yang's mouth curled slightly. "It seems the White Cloud Sect has really spent some capital to deal with me."

"Good that you recognize it." Sun Futong sneered. With a light flick of his wrist, the long sword suddenly turned into five afterimages, carrying a sharp whistling sound that tore through the air, stabbing straight at Lin Yang's heart, throat, shoulders, and lower abdomen.

The five sword shadows arrived almost simultaneously, at angles so tricky that it was impossible to dodge. This was the opening move of the Startling Lightning Sword: "Thunder Net."

Lin Yang did not retreat but advanced instead, the five-element True Qi in his Dantian suddenly boiling.

He ground his left foot into the ground to spin, his right fist gathering Metal-element True Qi. Five Tiger Shadow Fist shadows, carrying a pale golden aura, collided head-on with the sword shadows.

"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The five crisp sounds merged into one, like gold and iron clashing.

Lin Yang only felt waves of numbness coming from his fist; Sun Futong's Sword Qi actually carried a faint paralyzing power, drilling into his Meridians along his fist.

Sun Futong was also shaken back half a step, a flash of surprise in his eyes—this kid's fist power was actually so profound, managing to take his Five-Shadow Sword head-on.

"A bit interesting." Sun Futong's gaze darkened. He flicked the long sword again, and six sword shadows suddenly erupted, faster and denser than before, as if weaving a blue sword net, sealing off all of Lin Yang's retreat paths. "Startling Lightning Sword: Six Strikes!"

Before the sword shadows could reach his body, Lin Yang already felt a needle-like stinging pain on his skin.

The chaos star core in his Sea of Consciousness suddenly trembled violently, and a surge of pale golden Origin energy flowed into his fists along his Meridians.

The Tiger Shadow Fist, which could originally only barely maintain five shadows, suddenly surged—the seventh fist shadow, carrying a faint flow of Chaos Qi, stacked together with the previous six fist shadows, forming a golden fist wave visible to the naked eye.

"Boom!"

The moment the fist wave collided with the sword net, it was as if a thunderclap had exploded in mid-air.

Sun Futong felt a massive, overwhelming force coming from the sword body; the web between his thumb and index finger suddenly split, blood flowing down the hilt, and his long sword nearly slipped from his hand.

He staggered back seven steps, not steadying himself until his back hit a large rock, his eyes filled with disbelief as he looked at Lin Yang.

"Impossible! How could your Martial Skill improve in an instant?" Sun Futong roared, clutching his numb wrist, the tassel of the Startling Lightning Sword shaking violently. "Seven Shadows of the Tiger Shadow Fist, even an Elder of the Sect might not be able to execute it at will!"

Lin Yang flexed his fists, his knuckles making a light cracking sound, a faint flow of Chaos Qi still lingering on his fist. "To deal with you, Seven Shadows is enough."

He pressed forward step by step; with every step he took, the ground trembled slightly.

Seven fist shadows blasted out in turns, sometimes condensing the water and fire power of the Thunder Blast Kill, with the fist tip flashing with a red and blue intertwined halo; sometimes circulating Earth-element True Qi, the fist shadows becoming as heavy as a mountain.

The fist wind was like a storm, forcing Sun Futong's sword moves to become increasingly chaotic; the rhythm of the Startling Lightning Sword gradually collapsed, and the blue light dimmed a little.

"Stop!"

A clear, angry shout suddenly came from a distance, carrying unquestionable majesty.

Everyone saw a white figure stepping on a sword and coming over, her clothes fluttering like an immortal.

The woman was dressed in the white Daoist robe of the Star Moon Sect, with a crescent moon token hanging at her waist. Her face was as cold and clear as the moon—it was the Saintess, Su Qingyue, with a cultivation base of the Houtian Twelfth Layer, whom no one in the camp dared to provoke.

She hovered between the two, her gaze sweeping over the disheveled Sun Futong, her tone carrying a faint mockery: "People from the White Cloud Sect, relying on high cultivation to bully the few with the many—aren't you ashamed if this gets out?"

Sun Futong's face instantly turned the color of pig liver, but he dared not retort.

The Star Moon Sect was more powerful than the White Cloud Sect, and Su Qingyue's Master was even a Sect Elder; he could not afford to offend her.

He could only glare fiercely at Lin Yang, leave behind a "You just wait for me," and then, clutching his bleeding wrist, turn and stagger away.

Seeing this, Feng Kun also hurriedly followed, limping along, not even daring to say any more harsh words.

Only then did Su Qingyue turn around, her gaze falling on Lin Yang.

Her eyes were as clear as a stream. When they swept over the Chaos Qi on Lin Yang's fist, she widened her eyes slightly, which then turned into an imperceptible glimmer of interest: "Your Excellency has good skills. I am Su Qingyue. I wonder if I might befriend you?"

Lin Yang felt a slight stir in his heart. This woman not only had deep cultivation, but her temperament was also cold and refined, with a kind of purity between her brows that was untainted by dust—exactly the type he admired.

He retracted his fist shadows, cupped his hands, and smiled: "Lin Yang, greetings, Miss Su. Being able to befriend you is my honor."

Just at the moment their eyes met, the chaos star core in Lin Yang's Sea of Consciousness suddenly grew slightly hot, and faint silver patterns appeared on its surface, echoing the crescent moon token at Su Qingyue's waist from afar.

He felt a stir in his heart—could this be a sign of some kind of Opportunity?

Su Qingyue also seemed to have sensed something; she gently brushed her jade fingers over the token, a faint smile curling at the corner of her lips: "Young Master Lin, if you don't mind, could you accompany me to sit by the stream over there for a while? I have some matters regarding the Qingmeng Mountain trial that I would like to consult with you about."

Lin Yang looked at her hair tips dyed golden by the morning light and felt that the vengeful malice in his heart seemed to have been diluted a little.

He nodded and followed Su Qingyue's footsteps, his firewood knife shining with a soft light in the sun.

The stream flowed with a murmuring sound, reflecting the figures of the two walking side by side.

Lin Yang knew that with the appearance of Su Qingyue, the path of his counterattack had just unfolded its truly exciting chapter.

And in the dense forest in the distance, Shen Shuanghua's white clothes flashed and disappeared, the speed at which the jade hairpin spun on her fingertips increasing slightly.