Chapter 15: Reaching Tongmai Sixth Layer
Mu Feng's expression was as dark as the storm clouds looming over the Mu family. The earlier assassination attempt had been unmistakably targeted at him.
"Feng'er, your shoulder is injured?" Mu Chen noticed the blood staining Mu Feng's shoulder and asked with concern.
"The arrow hit the bone, but I'll manage. Uncle, can you identify who sent these assassins?"
Mu Chen pulled away the mask of one of the attackers, revealing a scarred, disfigured face that obscured any recognizable features. Shaking his head, he replied, "These are trained death warriors. Most major families employ such operatives. With their cultivation at the Zifu level, tracing their origins will be difficult."
Zifu was merely the entry-level realm of cultivation, and Zifu-level fighters were numerous in the capital. Whoever had sent these assassins had likely chosen individuals at this level precisely to ensure anonymity.
Mu Feng knelt beside the fallen assassin, inspecting the man's blade and searching his body for clues. However, there were no identifying marks or items.
"I may not have solid proof, but there are only so many people in this capital who want me dead," Mu Feng thought grimly.
As soldiers arrived to clear the scene, Mu Chen placed a hand on his shoulder. "Feng'er, you should return home and rest. Don't dwell too much on what happened today."
"Don't worry, Uncle. I'll be fine." Mu Feng forced a smile. After hesitating for a moment, he added, "Uncle, could you secure this body for me? I have use for it."
Mu Chen frowned slightly but nodded. "I'll have it sent to you shortly."
He ordered the guards to escort Mu Feng and the other disciples back to the family estate while keeping the corpse aside.
As Mu Feng left, the crowd murmured about the failed assassination. It was evident to many that the attempt had been directed solely at him.
Mu Chen, still standing in the square, turned his sharp gaze toward Zhao Heng on the platform. A chilling glint flashed in his eyes.
"Zhao Heng, for Feng'er's sake, I hope you're no longer in the capital two years from now. Otherwise, don't blame me for being merciless."
He had overheard the public bet Zhao Heng had made with Mu Feng. Viewing Mu Feng as his own son, Mu Chen's heart burned with rage and the seed of a deadly resolve.
"It seems some people are growing restless, plotting against the Mu family. It's time I lay down some countermeasures," Mu Chen muttered before leaving the square.
In the shadows of a tall building overlooking the square, Nan Hao's face was ice-cold.
"This is what you call foolproof?" he demanded.
"M-my apologies, Your Highness," stammered Duan Qianmou. He hadn't expected Mu Feng, despite his shattered cultivation, to survive long enough for Mu Chen to intervene.
"Hmph! Everyone involved in today's attack—Group Ten of the Earth Division—is to be executed. I do not tolerate incompetence," Nan Hao commanded before sweeping his cloak and leaving the balcony.
Duan Qianmou wiped the cold sweat from his brow and hurried after him.
Back at the Mu family estate, a healer tended to Mu Feng's wound. Luckily, the assassins had been overconfident and hadn't poisoned the arrow.
After the treatment, Mu Feng returned to his residence in the Danchin Courtyard. Before long, two Mu family guards arrived, carrying a corpse wrapped in white cloth.
Once they left, Mu Feng shut the gates and sat cross-legged beside the body.
The corpse wasn't for investigation—it was for cultivation.
The events of the day had only heightened Mu Feng's awareness of the danger he and his family faced. To survive and seek vengeance, he needed strength.
Activating the Ancient Shura Sutra, Mu Feng placed his hands over the body. Invisible energy coursed from his palms into the corpse, causing the remaining blood within to boil and rise as crimson mist.
The mist flowed into his shattered Yuan meridians, nourishing and repairing them.
In the corpse's dantian, six drops of golden blood hovered—a mark of the assassin's cultivation at Zifu Sixth Layer. This essence blood contained potent energy, far surpassing ordinary blood.
As Mu Feng absorbed it, the energy surged into his fourth Yuan meridian, rapidly healing it.
One-third... half... complete!
Before long, his fourth Yuan meridian was fully restored. The essence continued its work, flowing into the fifth meridian, then the sixth.
Two hours later, Mu Feng exhaled a long, steady breath. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
He had restored six Yuan meridians.
His dantian brimmed with pure, milky-white Yuan energy. The power coursing through his veins felt both familiar and exhilarating.
Touching his once-injured shoulder, he noted with satisfaction that it was nearly healed.
"The Ancient Shura Sutra is incredible. At this rate, just two more Zifu-level corpses, and I can restore all nine meridians," Mu Feng murmured, his eyes alight with excitement.
Clenching his fists, he felt a surge of strength. Although he had yet to regain his peak power, at Tongmai Sixth Layer, he was confident he could take on fighters at Tongmai Eighth or even Ninth Layer.
After disposing of the desiccated corpse in the backyard fire pit, Mu Feng retrieved his military saber and began practicing his combat techniques.
His movements were sharp and precise, each slash of the Gale Saber Technique as fierce as a storm.
Dry autumn leaves danced in the air, stirred by the whirlwind of his blade.
As sweat dripped from his brow, Mu Feng's resolve only grew stronger.
"Father, I have gained a heaven-defying opportunity. Rest assured, I will avenge you and the twenty thousand Mu family soldiers who perished unjustly. Their deaths will not be in vain."
Under the flickering firelight, Mu Feng's figure cast a long shadow—an unyielding silhouette of determination, prepared to carve his path through blood and steel.