Chapter 79: Another Practitioner of the Devouring Heaven Demon Art

Zhao Feng was filled with doubt. “A sudden change? What kind of change is it exactly?”

“I sensed it the moment I returned,” Weiwei replied.

Zhao Feng glanced at her. “This news is important to me. I’ll forgive your previous disrespect.”

Weiwei rolled her eyes.

Although Zhao Feng appeared unchanged day by day, only Weiwei dared to behave so freely in his presence.

Weiwei slowly extended her slender, jade-like hand and gently stroked Zhao Feng’s chest.

“Xia Linmei, or me—who’s prettier?”

“This…”

Weiwei smiled, her lips painted a deep crimson, giving her an air of fiery allure.

Suddenly, she leaned forward and bit Zhao Feng’s lips.

“You—!”

Weiwei laughed, pulling away quickly. “You little chick, consider this your punishment.”

Zhao Feng glared at her indignantly. For all his martial prowess, he was powerless in this moment. He wanted so badly to protest: I’m not a little chick!

Weiwei turned and left without hesitation.

Zhao Feng snorted and walked away as well.

The night was deep and mysterious.

Zhao Feng wandered alone, hands shoved in his pockets, aimlessly drifting.

He didn’t know how far he’d walked, nor where he was headed.

Suddenly, he looked up—and was startled.

He had wandered into a cemetery.

A chill ran down his spine.

Most people have some aversion to graveyards, and Zhao Feng, timid by nature, used to fear even going to the bathroom alone at night.

“Damn!” he muttered. “Just my luck—to end up in a place like this?”

His legs trembled, and he couldn’t help but want to run.

Suddenly, the sound of opera echoed all around.

“Ah!” Zhao Feng screamed in terror.

“Who’s there?!”

He was truly frightened.

Everywhere he looked, gravestones stood in rows—a cemetery, bleak and oppressive. The sky hung low, clouds thick and dark, threatening rain. The opera music was everywhere, impossible to tell from which direction it came.

Zhao Feng slowly retreated, quietly channeling his spiritual energy, ready to flee at any moment.

Suddenly, a green light appeared—then another, and another.

The lights resembled ghostly flames.

Zhao Feng’s fear intensified.

Then a woman’s voice sounded, “Summer’s almost here! This spring has dragged on so slowly. I love summer!”

“Who—?!” Zhao Feng leapt back.

“Stop pretending to be a ghost!” he shouted.

Boom! Zhao Feng threw a powerful punch into the void.

A cold, elegant laughter rang out, and a snow-white hand caught his fist.

“So, you’re a child afraid of the dark, are you?”

“Who are you?!” Zhao Feng demanded, furious.

He couldn’t believe that, even at the tenth stage of spiritual refinement, he was still facing obstacles.

Bang! Their fist and palm collided, and Zhao Feng’s vision cleared, revealing a woman in a blazing red dress.

She smiled at him. “I wondered who was causing a stir in Huai’an County. Turns out it’s a tenth-stage cultivator!”

Zhao Feng was shocked. “Who are you? How do you know I’m a cultivator?!”

The woman in red smiled. “If you want your deeds hidden, don’t act—or so the saying goes. You’ve left plenty of clues. Anyone with a mind to investigate would discover you easily.”

She spat, muttering something unseemly.

“Always cleaning up after you!”

Her words stunned Zhao Feng.

“What? You said you’re cleaning up after me?”

She pursed her lips. “What else? Otherwise, those old men from Dragon Nation would’ve been here long ago!”

She continued, “I don’t want others to know there are cultivators in Huai’an County—or in Chen City. Now, there are two.”

Zhao Feng was shaken. “Who are you, really?”

He grew even more alarmed. “What’s that aura around you?”

The woman in red smiled. “Guess.”

Zhao Feng’s gaze darkened. He said, word by word, “The aura of Devouring Heaven Demonic Art. You’ve cultivated the Devouring Heaven Demonic Art as well!”

She laughed. “Honestly, you stole my technique!”

“Your technique?”

“Yes.”

“So you created the Devouring Heaven Demonic Art?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“What does that mean?” Zhao Feng asked.

She smiled. “It was passed down by my ancestors.”

“Your ancestors?”

“Yes.”

“How can you prove it?”

Zhao Feng had regained his composure. He refused to be led by the nose any longer.

The woman in red paused, then covered her lips and laughed. “I don’t need to prove it.”

“Then it’s not yours,” Zhao Feng retorted.

She waved dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about that.”

“Fine,” Zhao Feng nodded. “What’s your name?”

She chuckled. “You should have heard of me by now.”

Zhao Feng frowned. “When?”

She smiled slightly. “You just saw Weiwei and Xia Lin, didn’t you?”

Zhao Feng was taken aback. “How do you know?”

As he realized, Zhao Feng felt a mix of anger and fear.

“You’ve been following me?”

The idea that someone had been hidden by his side all along was truly terrifying.

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I follow you? Honestly, you’re hopelessly dense! I’ve spelled it out, and you still haven’t figured it out. How am I supposed to work with you?”

“Work together?” Zhao Feng frowned. “I don’t like beating around the bush. Just tell me—who are you?”

The woman in red replied coolly, “Hongchang.”

“What?” Zhao Feng was stunned.

The infamous leader of the Three Golden Butterflies, Hongchang, was standing right before him—and a cultivator, no less!

Zhao Feng took a deep breath. “You’re really Hongchang?”

She rolled her eyes. “Absolutely.”

“Alright then.” Zhao Feng rubbed his nose. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Hongchang glared at him. “With reactions so slow, it’s a wonder any girl likes you.”

Zhao Feng blinked. “Am I popular with girls?”

“What else?”

“How come I’ve never noticed?” Zhao Feng asked.

Hongchang couldn’t be bothered to reply. “Let’s get down to business.”

Zhao Feng nodded. “Alright.”

Hongchang said, “I suppose you’ve already learned about the cave.”

“Is there a problem?” Zhao Feng asked.

“No, not really.”