248: Chapter 248 Establishing Authority! Extreme Protection!

Hun Feng's words fell into the void, light and airy, as if he were asking about the weather today.

Saint Son Mohe You's face turned deathly pale in an instant. The several elders of the Mohe Ancient Clan behind him were even more ashen, cold sweat trickling down their foreheads—the Hall Master of the Spirit Hall, the Sixth Elder of the Great Thousand Palace, that ruthless man who had single-handedly slaughtered seventeen Spirit Grade Heavenly Sovereign of the Evil Race in the South Sea. The person they had just blocked and attacked was actually this man's direct disciple.

The white-haired elder of the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan was the first to snap back to reality. His knees gave way, and he knelt straight down in the void. With his kneeling, the entire group of the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan behind him knelt in unison. Even those elders who had been whispering about Mu Chen's background moments ago disregarded their dignity, their knees striking the void and sending ripples of spiritual power spreading out.

"Elder Hun, please forgive us! We did not know they were the Sixth Elder's disciples—"

Young Master Huang Xuan of the Huanggu Clan did not kneel, but his expression was not good either. He withdrew the power source from his fist and bowed slightly toward Hun Feng's direction. The Saint Son of the Black Heaven Ancient Clan had already silently retreated three zhang, restraining his breathing completely.

Only Saint Son Mohe You did not move.

He stood where he was, his face shifting from deathly pale to iron blue, and then to gloomy. After three breaths of silence, he suppressed the malice in his eyes and forced a reluctant look of respect, bowing slightly to Hun Feng: "This junior did not know they were the Sixth Elder's disciples and has offended you. I will take my leave now. I hope the Elder will forgive me."

After saying this, he turned around and prepared to take his people away.

"Stop."

Two words, not heavy. Saint Son Mohe You's steps were frozen firmly in place.

Hun Feng stood in the void with his hands behind his back, his black robes unmoving amidst the spatial turbulence. His gaze landed on Saint Son Mohe You as if looking at a dead object, his tone even flatter than before: "Kneel. Apologize. Kowtow. Otherwise, stay here today."

In the void, one could hear a pin drop.

Saint Son Mohe You's face flushed completely red. He stared fixedly at Hun Feng, bloodshot lines spreading inch by inch in his eyes—Kneel? Kowtow? In front of so many members of the Ancient Clans, to make him, the dignified Saint Son of the Mohe Ancient Clan and the younger brother of the Clan Leader, kneel and kowtow to someone from the Lower Plane who had ascended and only become an elder of the Great Thousand Palace a few years ago?

Impossible.

"Elder Hun," Saint Son Mohe You gritted his teeth, his voice squeezed through them, "I respect you as an elder of the Great Thousand Palace and have already offered an apology. My elder brother, Maha Tian, is a Saint-Rank Heavenly Sovereign. Surely the Elder does not wish to have conflict with my Mohe Ancient Clan over this trivial matter—"

"What kind of thing are you?" Hun Feng interrupted him, his tone still flat, but every word was like a chisel, smashing into the pillar named "self-esteem" in Saint Son Mohe You's mind, "Is the Mohe Ancient Clan very impressive?"

Saint Son Mohe You's face turned completely iron blue. His reason snapped. He roared, and the spiritual power around him erupted without reservation. The dark golden palm print was fiercer than any previous time, and his entire body transformed into a stream of dark golden light, lunging toward Hun Feng.

Hun Feng did not dodge. He didn't even form a seal, simply raising his right hand with his palm facing upward. A cluster of crimson flames jumped out from his palm—the true form of the Heaven-Slaying Flame, a natal flame fused with over a dozen kinds of exotic fires. The flame was only the size of a fist, yet it caused the temperature of the entire void to soar to a terrifying degree in an instant, and the space within a hundred zhang radius was slightly distorted by the heat waves.

Before Saint Son Mohe You's dark golden palm print could touch within ten zhang of Hun Feng, it began to burn on its own in mid-air. The dark golden spiritual power was devoured from within by the crimson flames, like paper thrown into a furnace—no explosion, no roar, only silent melting. The Heaven-Slaying Flame traveled backward along the spiritual power meridians of the palm print, burning all the way to Saint Son Mohe You's fingertips.

"No—" Saint Son Mohe You's pupils contracted violently, wanting to withdraw his hand, but it was too late.

The crimson flames spread along his arm to his entire body. In the time of a single breath, his figure turned to ashes in the raging flames. Not even his soul escaped. In the void, only a faint scent of scorching remained, along with a storage ring that fell from the ashes, which Hun Feng casually summoned into his palm.

Silence reigned.

The expression on Young Master Huang Xuan's face finally changed from "watching a show" to genuine gravity. The Saint Son of the Black Heaven Ancient Clan retreated another half step. The kneeling crowd of the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan was even more pale—Hun Feng dared to kill Saint Son Mohe You in front of so many people; he not only dared to kill, but he did so without hesitation, cleanly and thoroughly.

The others awoke as if from a dream. Young Master Huang Xuan was the first to forcefully cup his hands, his voice loud and respectful: "Huanggu Clan's Huang Xuan, having eyes but failing to recognize the truth, has offended Elder Hun's disciples. Please forgive me, Elder!" The Saint Son of the Black Heaven Ancient Clan walked out of the shadows and voluntarily knelt down, his voice hoarse: "Black Heaven Ancient Clan's Heitian, I know my mistake. Please show mercy, Elder."

The white-haired elder of the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan's voice trembled: "Elder Hun, please show mercy! We truly did not know that Young Master Mu Chen was your disciple—"

Hun Feng looked down from above at these ancient clansmen kneeling on the ground, remaining silent for a long time. So long that the backs of several elders with lower cultivation levels were already soaked, before he spoke.

"Leave your storage bags. Then get lost. This time is the last time. If you dare to touch anyone from the Spirit Hall again—" He paused, not continuing.

Everyone felt as if they had received a great favor. Young Master Huang Xuan was the first to untie his storage bag and place it in the void, cupping his hands and retreating, then turning into a stream of pale golden light and flying away. After putting down his storage bag, the Saint Son of the Black Heaven Ancient Clan retreated back into the shadows. The members of the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan untied their storage bags one after another. After putting down his storage bag, Saint Son Xuan Luo stepped back a few paces, took a look at Mu Chen before leaving, his lips moving slightly, but in the end, he didn't speak, turning around and taking his people away. In the time of a few breaths, only a pile of storage bags and the lingering ripples of spiritual power remained in the void.

Mu Chen stood behind Hun Feng, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. He had thought that his master would come to save him, but he hadn't expected his master to kill someone directly, and to kill the younger brother of the Mohe Ancient Clan's leader at that. Luo Li stood by his side, her fingertips trembling slightly—not from fear, but from excitement. The humiliation she had felt just moments ago when Saint Son Mohe You contemptuously mentioned their lineage was now wiped clean in the most direct way by their master.

Mu Chen and Luo Li collected those storage bags. Then they looked up at Hun Feng's back; that profound black figure still stood in the void with his hands behind his back, never having moved a single step from start to finish. It seemed as though the one he killed was not a Saint Son of the Mohe Ancient Clan, but merely an ant blocking his path.

Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan, Ancestral Forbidden Hall.

There were no windows in the depths of the Forbidden Hall, only several spirit crystals embedded in the four walls emitting a cold, eerie white light. The furnishings inside the hall were extremely simple—a stone bed, a stone table, and an eternal lamp that never extinguished on the table. The air was permeated with a very faint sandalwood scent; it was the spirit incense used by the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan to suppress restrictions.

A woman sat cross-legged on the stone bed.

She wore a moon-white floor-length dress, the fabric as thin as cicada wings, shimmering with a faint pearlescent glow under the cold light of the spirit crystals. The dress was tied high above her chest, fastened gently below her collarbone with a delicate gilded chain. In the center of the gold chain hung a thumb-sized cyan-blue gemstone, which fell exactly onto the curve of her chest. Her waist was cinched with a three-finger-wide soft gold-threaded belt, making her already slender waist even more graspable, and making the undulating curves above and below the waistline even more breathtaking. The long dress was slit on both sides from the waist down, the hem spreading out on the stone bed like flowing water. At the slits, her long, straight legs were vaguely visible as she sat with them crossed, her skin appearing almost transparent against the white dress fabric.

She had a standard oval face, with a smooth and delicate jawline, neither sharp nor blunt, just right. Every feature of her face seemed to have been meticulously carved—her eyebrows were long, slender, and upward-sweeping distant mountain brows, with the peaks slightly raised, naturally carrying an air of coldness and majesty. Her eyes were narrow and long, with the corners slightly upturned, a very standard phoenix eye shape. Her pupils were a deep brown, shimmering with an amber-like glint under the cold light. Her eyelashes were long and thick, and without any makeup, they naturally cast a faint shadow on her lower eyelids, making her gaze appear exceptionally deep. Her nose bridge was high and delicate, the tip small and rounded, with the line from the bridge to the tip flowing in one continuous stroke. Her lips were full M-shaped, with clear and clean lip lines, and a natural dusty pink color. At this moment, they were slightly pursed, revealing a cold pride that commanded respect without anger.

Her hair was extremely thick, black as ink, and as smooth as a waterfall, spreading long behind her and on the stone bed. Interspersed among her hair were a few strands of cyan-blue hair braided into thin plaits, contrasting beautifully with her pure black hair. On both sides of her head, a golden vine-like hair accessory extended outward, complex and magnificent in design, resembling deer antlers or the branches of an ancient tree, making her appear like a white jade statue enshrined in a temple. In the center of her forehead hung a diamond-shaped golden forehead ornament, its teardrop-shaped tip falling exactly between her eyebrows, echoing the vine-like gold ornament on her head.

Her skin was that kind of extreme cold white, so white that one could almost see the fine blue veins beneath it. Her shoulder and neck lines were as beautiful as a swan's, her collarbones deeply set, her shoulders rounded without being overly thin. A large part of her back was exposed, the back collar of the moon-white dress opening all the way to above the dimple of her waist, revealing her entire smooth back and the graceful spinal groove, with only a few very thin golden chains crossing over her back, shimmering with fine light under the cold spirit crystal light. On each arm, she wore a pair of golden armbands, tightly clasping her upper arms, making the lines of her arms appear even more slender. On her wrists, she wore several stacked golden bangles, which made a very light clinking sound with her slight movements.

Behind her hung several long ribbons in a gradient of moon-white and cyan-blue, extending from her shoulder blades and waist, as light as mist, falling quietly in the windless air of the Forbidden Hall, merging with the hem of the dress spread on the stone bed, making it impossible to distinguish which was fabric and which was ribbon.

She just sat there quietly, and an aura of cold, otherworldly grace permeated from her—not an air deliberately put on, but a nobility born in her bones and blood. Like a goddess of the Nine Heavens trapped in the mortal world, like a solitary moon locked in a stone chamber. Although her cultivation was sealed and she had no spiritual power, the sharpness and cold pride in those phoenix eyes could still make anyone's heart tremble when they met her gaze.

Qing Yanjing! Saintess of the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan!

At this moment, her amber phoenix eyes were staring coldly at Budu Xuan standing at the hall entrance. Her thin lips parted slightly, her voice cold and sharp, like a thin unsheathed sword: "Great Elder, if you hurt my son by even a fraction, I will not let you off, even if I have to risk my life."

Budu Xuan stood at the hall entrance, with silver hair and a white beard, his face as stiff as if carved by a knife and axe. He looked at Qing Yanjing, his brows slightly furrowed, just about to speak.

The hall door was pushed open suddenly. Saint Son Xuan Luo stumbled into the Forbidden Hall, his robes still stained with frost and dust from traveling through the void, his expression terrified.

"Great Elder—" his voice was tight.

Budu Xuan turned around, his brows furrowed even deeper: "What are you panicking about? Speak."

Xuan Luo caught his breath, his gaze sweeping rapidly between Qing Yanjing and Budu Xuan, and bit the bullet as he spoke: "Mu Chen—Mu Chen entered the Ancient Heavenly Palace, obtained the heavenly emperor sword, and has already broken through to Earth Supreme. But when he left the Heavenly Palace, he was intercepted by Saint Son Mohe You and his people, who wanted to kill him and seize the treasure. Then—then the Hall Master of the Spirit Hall, Hun Feng, personally stepped forward and publicly acknowledged that Mu Chen and Luo Li were his direct disciples. Saint Son Mohe You refused to apologize and was killed on the spot by Hun Feng using the Heaven-Slaying Flame, burned until not even ashes remained. Everyone present had their storage bags confiscated before being released."

Budu Xuan's hand paused in mid-air, his expression becoming extremely colorful in an instant.

On the stone bed, Qing Yanjing was also stunned. Those cold phoenix eyes suddenly widened, the sharpness in them rapidly receding, replaced by an indescribably complex expression—shock, surprise, disbelief. She had originally thought that Budu Xuan had sent people to hunt down Mu Chen, which was why she had made that warning. But the situation was completely different from what she had thought. Not only was Mu Chen not hunted down, but he had also become a disciple of Hun Feng. And that Hun Feng, for the sake of her son, had publicly killed the younger brother of the Mohe Ancient Clan's leader.

She remained silent for a long while. The golden forehead ornament between her eyebrows flickered slightly under the cold light. Then she looked up at Budu Xuan, a very faint arc appearing at the corners of her lips—not a smile, but something more complex. The sharpness gathered in her phoenix eyes again, but this time the sharpness was not anger, but a keenness that had finally found an outlet after being suppressed for many years.

"Budu Xuan," she said, her voice returning to its usual coldness, but every word carried an unprecedented weight, "You said back then that my son was a disgrace to the clan, that my son had tainted the bloodline of the Ancient Floating Pagoda Clan. Now he has obtained the heavenly emperor sword, broken through to Earth Supreme, and become a disciple of someone who can kill Saint Son Mohe You with a wave of his hand. Are you satisfied now?"

Budu Xuan's face was iron blue, and he said nothing. Qing Yanjing's words were like a very fine needle, precisely piercing into the fact he was least willing to face.

Qing Yanjing did not look at him again. She turned her head slightly, her phoenix eyes shifting to Xuan Luo, the coldness in her gaze softening somewhat: "What kind of person is his master?"

Xuan Luo deliberated his wording for a long while before answering in a low voice: "Decisive in killing, extremely protective. Before Saint Son Mohe You could finish a sentence, he was burned to ashes by his exotic fire. Before leaving, he also confiscated the storage bags of everyone present."

After listening, Qing Yanjing was silent for a moment. Then she lowered her head slightly, a few strands of black hair sliding down from her shoulder, covering her side profile. No one saw her expression, only those moon-white and cyan-blue ribbons behind her trembling slightly, and the stacked golden bangles on her wrists making a very light, fine clinking sound, as if some emotion that had been suppressed for too long had finally found a crack and leaked out through that slight metallic sound.