Chapter 61: One Man and One Dragon Subdue Taixuan

Supreme Profound Dao Sect.

Atop the solitary mountain.

Chu Feng’s days could only be described as leisurely. With nothing better to do, he teased Zhao Dongdong and bullied Chen Wanwan from time to time.

Strangely, Chen Wanwan had not left, for reasons unknown. In fact, each time they met, she would challenge Chu Feng provocatively. But Chu Feng cared little for her identity—he responded with a lesson from the rod, suppressing her with authority until this so-called Saintess of the Heavenly Demon clan pleaded for mercy.

Judging by her expression, she seemed to quite enjoy it.

It was practically a game of roleplay.

Naturally, Chu Feng enjoyed it all the more. Worthy of her title as the Saintess of the Heavenly Demon, she was endlessly charming, ever-changing—capable of dignified grace, captivating allure, or icy aloofness. It was as if a single woman could possess countless temperaments.

No wonder, in all the novels Chu Feng had read in his past life, everyone was enamored with the enchantress.

Moreover, she was well-versed in the dual cultivation arts, able to grant Chu Feng a new experience each time.

Aside from being weaker than him, under his “educational” sessions, she could only beg for mercy.

Just the other day, Chen Wanwan had somehow managed to drag Zhao Dongdong into her schemes, attempting to join forces in a little rebellion. But with Chu Feng present, how could they possibly succeed? He swiftly suppressed their revolt, leaving them to plead for forgiveness once again.

...

Yet, just as Chu Feng was reveling in such pleasures, an uninvited guest arrived at the Supreme Profound Dao Sect.

This time, however, it was a visit in broad daylight.

That day, the once-clear sky was suddenly shrouded with dark clouds, thunder and lightning tearing across the heavens. A flood dragon sliced through the void, riding the storm as it appeared outside the sect.

The immense pressure it exuded left every member of the sect gasping for air. Disciples with weaker cultivation were pressed flat to the ground, unable to move under the weight of its aura.

Xiang Yutian, the sect master, turned deathly pale with fright. The three grand elders dared not even breathe loudly.

Of course, Chu Feng was an exception.

The moment that terrifying aura descended, Chu Feng sensed it at once.

With his Divine Eye of Limitlessness, he saw through the flood dragon’s strength and intention in an instant.

It was a green-eyed azure flood dragon, at the early stage of the Grand Ascension realm.

Atop the dragon stood a middle-aged man, his cultivation at the mid-stage of Grand Ascension.

As soon as the pair appeared, Chu Feng felt a powerful divine sense sweep across the sect.

Chen Wanwan’s expression became grave. Her entire presence receded instantly—if not for Chu Feng’s Divine Eye seeing her standing right there, he might have believed she was never there at all.

Noticing his confusion, Chen Wanwan explained, “That man is named Murong Longcheng, a retainer of the Jiang Clan, a mid-stage Grand Ascension cultivator blessed with the ancient Dragon Taming bloodline. This green-eyed azure flood dragon is his beast companion, an ancient monster.”

“One man and one dragon are enough to rule unchallenged among Grand Ascension cultivators—unless a Tribulation Transcender himself intervenes.”

“If he’s here, could it be for you?”

Chu Feng shook his head. “How could that be? I’m just a lowly Nascent Soul cultivator.”

In truth, Chu Feng was at the peak of the Integration realm, though he lacked any proper aura-concealing technique. Yet, with his mastery of the Underworld Visualization, Great Immortal Art, and Ninefold Mysterious Art, he could instantly hide his physical body, power, and soul. Unless he revealed himself or stood before Murong Longcheng in person, none could see through his true cultivation.

Fu Wangtian, with Integration realm strength, could not be slain by a Nascent Soul cultivator. The question was whether Murong Longcheng knew that Fu Wangtian had died by Chu Feng’s hand.

If he did know, Chu Feng might have to use that Tribulation Transcender experience card and vanish into exile—there would be no place for him in all the Eastern Wastes.

Ultimately, he was still too weak.

If he were a true Tribulation Transcender, or even an Immortal Emperor, the Jiang Clan would be beneath his notice.

At that moment—

“Supreme Profound Dao Sect Master, come forth and answer!” Murong Longcheng’s voice thundered like a demon god from the depths, domineering and suffused with terror.

Xiang Yutian, drenched in sweat and trembling, hurried out and declared, “Sect Master Xiang Yutian of the Supreme Profound Dao Sect greets the honored one.”

With a wave of Murong Longcheng’s hand, an image appeared before Xiang Yutian—it was a portrait of Fu Wangtian.

“Has your sect seen this man?”

“No.” Xiang Yutian shook his head emphatically. “I swear by my name, we have never seen this distinguished person.”

Murong Longcheng sneered. “Your sect? A few Nascent Soul cultivators at best. Fu Wangtian was at the Integration realm and wielded the Divine Flame of the Sun. Your sect indeed lacks the power.”

With that, he mounted the green-eyed azure flood dragon and left the skies above the Supreme Profound Dao Sect.

He was gone just like that.

Chu Feng was a bit stunned.

It seemed their sect was beneath his notice.

All the better. This crisis had passed.

Yet, it also served as a warning.

Just because he was now a grand elder at the peak of Integration in the Supreme Profound Dao Sect did not mean he could sleep soundly. Danger still lurked.

Suddenly, Chen Wanwan burst out laughing.

“Fortunately, Murong Longcheng is arrogant enough not to exterminate your sect. If it were me, I’d rather kill by mistake than let any suspect escape—if there’s doubt, just destroy them.”

“Husband, staying here is too dangerous. Why not come with me to the Heavenly Demon Sacred Land?”

“Become the consort of the Saintess of the Heavenly Demon.”

As she spoke, she reached out, pinching Chu Feng’s chin and pressing it downward.

Chu Feng immediately reversed their positions, grabbing Chen Wanwan in his arms. “Oh? You dare suggest I be your consort? It seems you’re itching for a lesson, or perhaps I haven’t disciplined you enough.”

Chen Wanwan suddenly bit down on Chu Feng’s shoulder.

“I’m saving your life, you know. And you still want to hit me? Careful, or I’ll snap it off.”

Having cultivated the first turn of the Ninefold Mysterious Art, Chu Feng felt nothing at all. Yet he played along, “Oh, you’re biting now? Acting like a dog, are you?”

“Let’s see how I deal with you.”

While the two of them bantered and scuffled without a care in the world, the Supreme Profound Dao Sect was in turmoil.

Panic was no exaggeration.

That overwhelming and terrifying aura they had just experienced firsthand—the hundreds of meters long, green-eyed azure flood dragon—if it had chosen to attack, the entire sect would have been powerless to resist.

Fortunately, Liu Rushi remained imprisoned in the Ice Prison.

Ye Zishan and Zhao Ping, meanwhile, found themselves shuddering uncontrollably.

After centuries of cultivation, especially as grand elders of the sect—lofty, commanding authority, even dictating the succession of sect masters—they tasted despair for the first time.

From that moment on, for a long while, it was as if a great stone weighed on every heart in the Supreme Profound Dao Sect.

Some were stirred to greater zeal, hoping that one day they might be like Murong Longcheng, able to suppress an entire sect alone, and so they cultivated with renewed vigor.

Others had their spirits utterly broken, backbone shattered, falling into dejection.

Of course, there was also Chu Feng, utterly carefree.

He spent his days in laughter and play, practicing dual cultivation.

On their lonely mountain, aside from the usual few, there was now one unexpected new presence.

Lin Xiyue.