48: Chapter 48 The Phantom of the Wasteland, The Old Man Scavenging for Trash?

This godforsaken place was a literal vampire.

Ye Feng had only run three miles with Xiao Yue on his back when the bone-deep thirst intensified tenfold.

Every grain of dust here was like a miniature Drought Demon; he didn't even need to touch them, just being near caused the Spiritual Qi seeping from his pores to evaporate frantically.

The massive amount of earth-attribute spiritual power he had just obtained from devouring the dragon vein hadn't even been refined into his Dantian yet. Under the suppression of this environment, it was forced to resist the external stripping, consuming it at a staggering speed.

"What a massive loss."

Ye Feng licked his dry, peeling lips, but his footsteps dared not pause for a second.

Stopping now meant waiting for death.

Suddenly, a pale hand reached out from behind a weathered mound on the left and grabbed his ankle.

Ye Feng's eyes sharpened, and his broken sword instinctively prepared to stab downward.

"It's me! Don't move!"

The voice was intentionally kept very low, carrying a trace of anxious trembling.

Ye Feng forcefully halted his sword strike, the tip of the blade only half an inch from the hand's owner.

It was a woman.

She wore tattered grey robes, and her face was smeared with soot, leaving only a pair of clear, black-and-white eyes visible.

Zhao Waner?

The Qingyang Sect traitor who had brought him intelligence on the eve of the Great Competition?

"Hold your breath."

Zhao Waner had no time to explain or reminisce, and she didn't even look at Ye Feng's still-dripping broken sword.

She quickly pulled a filthy cloth bag from her bosom, grabbed a handful of foul-smelling yellow powder, and threw it over Ye Feng and Xiao Yue.

It was 'Breath-Concealing Powder,' a mixture of Rot-Corpse Grass and the feces of Rank Three Yao Beasts. The smell was nauseating, but it was a folk remedy for evading Divine Sense tracking.

Only after finishing this did she slump to the ground as if drained of strength, panting heavily.

"Are you crazy? You killed Fierce Tiger and destroyed Dragon Suppression Pass." Zhao Waner stared at Ye Feng as if looking at a dead man. "The entire Great Xia Imperial Dynasty is in an uproar. The Law Enforcement Hall has issued a 'Black Iron Pursuit Order.' Your head is now worth a million Low-Grade Spirit Stones, plus a High Grade Profound Rank Cultivation Technique."

One million.

Ye Feng curled his lips and hoisted Xiao Yue higher on his back. "Sounds like I'm quite valuable. Why are you here?"

"I'm running for my life, just like you." Zhao Waner gave a bitter smile and pointed toward the depths of the wasteland. "Only by entering the core area of the Sword Burial Wasteland and using the chaotic magnetic field there can I evade the Sect's Life-Soul Lamp tracking. I originally thought I'd be burning paper for you after you died, but I didn't expect you to be so resilient."

Before her voice could fade...

Woof! Woof!

Several shrill, violent barks approached rapidly from behind, carried by the wind and sand.

Zhao Waner's face turned pale instantly. "Oh no, it's Blood-Scent Hounds! These beasts don't smell Spiritual Qi, they only smell blood! Your blood aura is too strong; the Breath-Concealing Powder can't cover it!"

Almost at the same time.

Swish, swish, swish—!

Three sounds of breaking air tore through the sand, heading straight for the back of Ye Feng's heart with a chilling coldness.

Those were Profound Iron Flying Daggers, coated with 'Bone-Dissolving Powder' that could kill upon contact with blood.

Ye Feng's scalp tingled as the little Spiritual Qi remaining in his body erupted instantly.

He couldn't turn to block because Xiao Yue was still on his back.

He could only forcefully shift his body half a foot to the right.

One flying dagger grazed Xiao Yue's thigh and buried itself deep into Ye Feng's left shoulder.

Sharp pain accompanied by a sense of numbness spread rapidly.

Ye Feng grunted, reached back to pull out the dagger, and brought out a spray of black blood.

This poison wasn't fatal to someone with his Chaos Physique, but it was enough to paralyze his left arm in the short term.

"Run!"

Ye Feng grabbed Zhao Waner and charged toward the grey, Rocky Area ahead.

Behind them, over a dozen figures in the black robes of the Qingyang Sect Law Enforcement Hall had already emerged from the sandstorm.

The leader was as burly as a bear, dragging a Profound Iron Heavy Sword as wide as a door. With every step he took, the ground trembled.

The Head of the Qingyang Sect Law Enforcement Hall, Iron Hand Yan.

A ruthless man at the Peak of Late Stage Foundation Establishment, with half a foot already in the Core Formation stage.

"Little bastard, you're quite the runner."

Iron Hand Yan's voice sounded like crushed stones being ground in a mill, coarse and grating. "Leave that million-stone head of yours, and I can give you a quick death."

Ye Feng turned a deaf ear. In his current state, going head-to-head with Iron Hand Yan at his Peak was seeking death.

The three of them stumbled into the Rocky Area.

Calling this a Rocky Area was an understatement; it was more like a graveyard.

The ground was covered with broken swords—some rusted, some with only the hilt remaining—densely packed into the greyish-white rocks like a forest of steel.

A solemn and desolate aura rushed over them.

The moment Ye Feng stepped into this area, a withered figure blocked their path.

It was an old man.

He had a lame leg and was blind in one eye. He held a blackened bamboo pole, tapping the ground rhythmically.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound wasn't loud, yet it eerily drowned out Iron Hand Yan's heavy footsteps from behind.

The old man wore a sword robe from who-knows-how-many years ago, its original color long since faded.

He didn't look at Ye Feng, nor at the murderous pursuers behind. He just looked down, sweeping the gravel on the ground as if he were trying to sweep a flower out of this place full of scrap metal.

"The Gravekeeper?" Zhao Waner cried out in alarm. "Without a Sword Token, trespassers die!"

Behind them, Iron Hand Yan stopped at the edge of the Rocky Area.

He stared at the sweeping old man, a trace of wariness flashing in his eyes before turning into a snarl. "Old man, the Qingyang Sect is conducting business. Get lost!"

The old man seemed deaf.

He continued sweeping slowly until he cleared a piece of gravel by Ye Feng's foot. Only then did he lift his face, which looked like withered bark, and turned his cloudy, single eye toward Ye Feng.

"To enter the Sword Forest, pay the Sword Intent."

His voice was hoarse, like two rusted iron plates rubbing together.

"Without Sword Intent, leave your life to fill the void."

It was a completely emotionless statement, as if in his eyes, Ye Feng was no different from the scrap metal on the ground.

Ye Feng's heart sank.

Sword Intent? His Spiritual Qi was exhausted; he could barely even condense Sword Qi. Where would he get extra Sword Intent to pay?

The so-called 'paying Sword Intent' usually meant a Sword Cultivator would inject their own comprehension of the Sword Dao into the local Formation to gain passage.

But right now, he was like an empty oil lamp.

"Nothing?" The old man slightly raised his bamboo pole, and a decaying yet massive intent that was suffocatingly powerful instantly locked onto Ye Feng.

It was a 'dead' Sword Intent.

Heavy and despairing, as if it wanted to drag one's Soul into the abyss.

With Iron Hand Yan behind and the mysterious Sword Slave in front...

It was a certain-death situation.

Ye Feng looked at the broken swords covering the ground. Suddenly, in his eyes—which were blurred from blood loss—a flash of madness lit up.

Pay Sword Intent?

Since he didn't have any, he would steal it!

"Who says I don't have any?"

Instead of retreating, Ye Feng took a fierce step forward and slammed his own broken sword into the ground.

Since you want Sword Intent, I'll show you what true insatiable greed looks like!

Chaos Devouring Sword Body, activate!

He didn't release any Spiritual Qi; instead, he completely opened up the defenses of his Sea of Consciousness.

It wasn't for output, but for intake.

Buzz—!

Within a hundred-foot radius, those thousands of broken swords that had been stuck in the ground for untold years suddenly began to vibrate in unison.

Though these swords were broken and dead, the lingering resentment, anger, and regret from over the long years still clung to the blades like ghosts.

Ye Feng turned himself into a massive vessel, a black hole specifically designed to collect 'trash.'

A grey current of air, invisible to the naked eye, rose from the broken swords in all directions and surged frantically into Ye Feng's body.

It was the roar of countless dead sword Souls.

"What is he doing? Is he looking for death? He dares to directly absorb the wasteland's waste gas?" Zhao Waner was stunned.

Even the sweeping Sword Slave showed a trace of astonishment in his cloudy, single eye for the first time.

He had seen countless brilliant Sword Cultivators come here to offer swords, but he had never seen anyone dare to swallow these resentment-filled discarded Sword Intents as if they were eating common cabbage.

"Playing tricks!"

Iron Hand Yan didn't have the patience to watch the show.

He only knew that delays brought trouble.

"Since none of you want to move, then you can all be buried here together!"

Iron Hand Yan gripped the massive door-like heavy sword with both hands. His muscles bulged like rocks, and the violent spiritual power of a Peak Foundation Establishment cultivator poured into the blade without reservation.

He didn't care about any Sword Slave.

In the face of absolute power, rules were nothing.

Iron Hand Yan's legs bent slightly, and he launched himself into the air like a cannonball.

With the heavy sword held high above his head, the air around the blade shrieked as it failed to withstand the immense pressure.

It was the Qingyang Sect's most domineering earth-system sword move—'Heavy Wave Mountain-Collapsing Slash.'

A single strike falling would be enough to level this Rocky Area.

"Die!"

The terrifying wind pressure descended first, making Ye Feng's knees go soft and his bones creak.

But at that very moment...

Ye Feng felt that among the chaotic Sword Intents surging into his body, a portion of them suddenly produced a strange resonance.

Those were the Souls of several hundred broken swords that were similarly heavy and broad.

They were trembling.

Not from fear, but from excitement.

Because that sword strike in the sky had awakened their memories of once being heavy swords.

Iron Hand Yan's opening stance, breathing frequency, and spiritual power circulation path... at this moment, they actually reached a subtle synchronization with these pieces of scrap metal.

Ye Feng looked up, a blood-stained, savage grin curling his lips.

How was this a killing move?

This was clearly an 'instruction manual' delivered right to his door!