The Weight of a Name

Feng Yue’s ugly face twisted in fury. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected the other man to mock him. Rage surged through his chest.

Although he had never succeeded in forming his foundation, he relied on a few decent magic tools and his ruthless, venomous methods to earn a fearsome reputation among the low-level disciples of the various sects.

Everyone knew the record: he had once locked a fellow cultivator in a dark room, torturing him for three full days and nights while the man screamed without cease, before finally killing him.

Ordinary disciples turned pale at the mere mention of his name. They fled the instant they heard it, not daring to lay eyes on him.

With such an infamous reputation, he should have long since been killed by a Foundation Establishment cultivator who took issue with him. But he was cunning. Though he was vicious toward low-level cultivators, the moment he sensed someone far stronger than himself, he would flee like the wind back to the safety of Tianque Fortress. And the Fortress, for the sake of its own prestige, would never hand him over.

Those who hunted him were left with no choice but to gnash their teeth and watch him roam free.

Once the heat of pursuit died down, Feng Yue would swagger back out of the Fortress and continue his cruel slaughter. After this happened several times, the seniors simply pinched their noses and let it be, too lazy to bother with him any longer. After all, Feng Yue knew his limits. He never struck anyone with backing, nor did he dare harm those close to the powerful.

And so, his arrogance swelled unchecked among the Seven Great Sects. His infamy spread far and wide. He grew increasingly reckless, cultivating a mentality of absolute self-worship—whatever he said, went. Apart from a select few disciples of other sects whose reputations matched his own, he looked down on every other low-level cultivator.

And now, this rookie—Han Li, a mere eleventh-layer cultivator—had the audacity to say he would kill him. How could the spoiled, entitled Feng Yue not fly into a rage?

“You seek death!”

Enraged beyond reason, Feng Yue refused to let Han Li live another second. He tapped the small knife before him. It transformed into a beam of yellow light that shot straight toward Han Li’s head, intending to sever it in a single stroke. He was confident that even with that blue, water-attribute barrier around him, one strike from his Talisman Treasure would shatter the shield and claim the man’s life.

But Han Li had no intention of letting him have his way. Without a change in expression, he raised his hand. A small black shield left his palm, expanding as it flew, and intercepted the yellow light at a distance of about two zhang.

The yellow light of the blade clashed with the black light on the shield’s surface. A sharp, grinding sound filled the air. The yellow light immediately gained the upper hand, pressing the black radiance back step by step. But the small shield refused to yield, continuously emitting black light in stubborn resistance.

For the moment, the yellow light could not break through.

Feng Yue’s face showed genuine surprise. Han Li, on the other hand, let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Feng Yue had not expected Han Li to possess a rare top-grade defensive magic tool. Han Li was relieved that his estimation had been correct.

Using the Flying Heaven Shield to withstand the enemy’s Talisman Treasure had been a calculated risk. If the Talisman Treasure’s power had proven far greater than anticipated, he would already be dead on the ground.

He recalled the battle with “Senior Brother Lu” the other day. A top-grade magic tool like the Green Flood Dragon Banner had managed to hold off the flying-sword Talisman Treasure for quite some time. Even if Feng Yue’s small knife was slightly more powerful, this Flying Heaven Shield of his should be able to hold out for a while.

It was on this reasoning that Han Li had dared to take the risk.

Seeing that he was safe for the moment, Han Li grabbed his “Golden Light Brick” Talisman Treasure and prepared to activate it, intending to finish his opponent in one decisive blow.

But before he could channel his spiritual power to begin the incantation, Feng Yue suddenly bellowed:

“Bitch! Where do you think you’re going?”

His figure flickered, and in an instant, he had already appeared at the edge of a nearby dense forest, blocking someone’s path.

The person sneaking toward the forest was none other than the yellow-robed woman.

Seeing that her side had no chance of victory, and terrified by Feng Yue’s infamous reputation, she had seized the opportunity while Han Li and Feng Yue were locked in combat to try and slip away, to escape.

Han Li had noticed her movements early on. He was somewhat irritated, but he couldn’t be bothered to intervene.

Since she was of no help here, whether she stayed or fled was her own choice.

But by being the first to break their alliance, she had forfeited any claim to his assistance. He would not stop her escape, but neither would he lift a finger to help her. Let her live or die by her own fate.

Han Li coldly tried to dismiss the woman from his thoughts. But Feng Yue, already burning with rage, was not so easily fooled.

He had already come to resent the yellow-robed woman for Han Li’s earlier words. Seeing her try to flee, he naturally refused to let her succeed. He flew forward and blocked her path.

When Han Li’s shijie saw this, she panicked like an ordinary mortal, turning to run without even thinking to cast a spell.

Feng Yue’s ugly face twitched. His form spun in a blur, and he appeared before her once more, blocking her way. Without hesitation, he raised a hand. A large, yellow-glowing hand plunged straight through her chest and emerged from her back, dripping with blood.

The yellow-robed woman’s corpse crumpled to the ground. Her eyes were wide open, but their light had already faded. In her final moments, she may have regretted her rash decision to flee from Han Li’s side. But in this world, there was no medicine for regret.

Knowing full well that she had no magic tools or powerful talismans left, Feng Yue had closed in to kill her at close range. After withdrawing his hand, he deliberately licked the blood droplets still dripping from his fingers. Then, grinning savagely, he turned his gaze to Han Li.

Han Li stood within his protective barrier, his face pale, his lips tightly pressed. Though he did not cry out, Feng Yue was certain that the man was scared out of his wits.

He took satisfaction in this thought.

Much of his past success in battle had been owed to his reputation. The moment an opponent imagined the fate that awaited them if they fell into his hands, they lost a third of their nerve before the fight even began. Their strength would be compromised, and defeat would follow.

Now that he saw Han Li’s techniques were not profound, but his magic tools were not weak, Feng Yue planned to use the same tactic—to terrify him into paralysis, preventing him from fighting at full strength.

Judging by Han Li’s expression, it seemed his strategy was working. Secretly pleased, Feng Yue made a show of swaying his body. In a few flickering steps, he returned to his original position opposite Han Li.

Han Li’s expression was indeed grim, and his heart churned with an indescribable feeling. But it was not because of the enemy’s bloody methods. It was because of that lightning-fast movement technique. It was a serious problem.

After using the “Golden Light Brick” Talisman Treasure once before, Han Li had realized that this artifact, despite its seemingly greater power than the flying-sword Talisman Treasure, had a major flaw in actual combat.

Its destructive power was terrifying. If it struck a low-level cultivator, there was absolutely no chance of survival. No amount of protective magic tools or barriers would matter. But its weakness was equally obvious. Not only did it consume a massive amount of the user’s mana to control, but its speed and flexibility were genuinely disappointing.

If the enemy could be tied down or trapped beforehand, this Talisman Treasure would achieve great feats. It would be the perfect tool for killing. But if one relied solely on the Golden Light Brick itself to kill the enemy, it was utterly impossible. Unless the opponent’s mana was completely exhausted, a few simple speed-boosting spells would allow anyone to easily dodge its attack.

The “Golden Light Brick” Talisman Treasure was not a persistent-combat type like the flying-sword Talisman Treasure or Feng Yue’s small knife. It was a pure pursuit of overwhelming destructive power—the same type as the seal treasure of Tianque Fortress’s Core Formation experts.

Since Han Li no longer had any magic tools or talismans to trap the enemy, he had originally planned to use a few Golden Blades to entangle Feng Yue first, then launch a surprise attack with the Golden Light Brick. In his estimation, while it wouldn’t guarantee success, it should give him at least a fifty percent chance.

But after witnessing Feng Yue’s movement technique, he knew this was nothing but wishful thinking. With speed not inferior to his own Smoke Step, Feng Yue could easily disengage from entanglement at any moment.

Extreme frustration washed over Han Li, mixed with a trace of puzzlement. Could it be that this Feng Yue, like himself, had started out in the Jianghu?