Chapter Twenty-Two: The Supreme Heavenly Palace Battles the God of War

Although his timing was rather lucky—one could even say opportunistic, since Feng Zijin was fully engaged in battle at the time and had no reason to expect a sudden, bare-handed attack from Xiu Ji—his fist still carried a force that was as powerful as his burly stature. Yet as soon as the barrier shattered, the overwhelming force surged toward Xiu Ji, slamming into him like an invisible tidal wave. His robust frame was unable to turn in time, and he was sent flying like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily into the muddy earth.

As for Feng Zijin, at the very moment the barrier broke, he had already retreated several steps. Though he was struck by some of the turbulent air, it left no real injury; when he landed, aside from a few stray strands of hair, he remained calm and unruffled.

Judging by the scene before them, Feng Zijin’s strength far surpassed that of the two disciples from the Temple of the Returning Void, and it was clear he had shown mercy in the preceding clash.

“Xiu Ji!”

His senior brother descended swiftly from the sky, like a white crane, rushing to support Xiu Ji and carefully inspect his injuries.

Fortunately, Xiu Ji had not suffered any serious harm; he had merely been flung away by his own internal force.

“No harm, Senior Brother. I... I seem to be fine,” Xiu Ji replied dully, though his expression suggested he had yet to fully recover from the shock.

The exchange had happened in the blink of an eye, and Bai Mu had not seen it clearly. The two disciples of the Temple of the Returning Void used vastly different techniques—one wielded sword energy, the other struck with brute force—which left Bai Mu utterly bewildered.

Seeing his furrowed brow, Ling Yan smiled and asked, “Are you puzzled by why the two disciples from the Temple of the Returning Void have such different styles?”

“Yes, what’s going on? I can’t make sense of it at all!” Bai Mu frowned, looking thoroughly confused.

“I can explain it for you,” Ling Yan said, hiding in the shadows as she organized her thoughts. “Over seven thousand years ago, the War God Fanxian was a famed figure throughout the wild realms. The world knew him as the War God, but few knew his true name.”

“He had another name?” Bai Mu asked eagerly.

“Yes.” Ling Yan nodded calmly. “His full title was the Great War God of Celestial Heights and Infinity. To honor their ancestral master’s glory, the disciples of the Temple of the Returning Void assigned themselves four generations of titles: ‘Celestial,’ ‘Heights,’ ‘Infinity,’ and ‘Great,’ each representing a generation.”

“That sword-wielding senior brother you saw earlier, whom Xiu Ji called Wushang, must be of the third generation—the ‘Infinity’ generation.”

“And that burly one with mouse-like eyes is Xiu Ji, which likely means he’s from the ‘Great’ generation. Since ‘Great’ is difficult to use as a name, they chose the similar-sounding ‘Ji’ instead.”

“Do these generations have anything to do with the techniques they practice?” Bai Mu pressed. “I understand the matter of generations, but why is there such a vast difference in their skills?”

“That’s easily explained,” Ling Yan said, raising her delicate brows. “My elder brother once told me: among the four generations of Fanxian’s disciples, the first and third practice the Way of the Sword, while the second and fourth focus on the Way of Qi. In other words, among the hundreds of disciples in the Temple of the Returning Void, half train in swordsmanship, and half cultivate qi. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, I get it!” Bai Mu nodded, only half convinced, thinking to himself, “These sects are always so complicated. Unlike my time on Eastward Mountain, where the master taught whatever he wished, never bothering to sort knowledge into so many categories.”

While the two whispered their discussion, new developments unfolded on the field.

Feng Zijin strode confidently toward Wushang and Xiu Ji, pulling from his robes a blackish-brown pill and declaring, “This is a Spirit-Stabilizing Pill, carefully crafted by my master. It works wonders for restoring and nurturing one’s foundation. I noticed Brother Xiu Ji’s internal energy may be unsettled from the shock, and this pill can ensure his recovery.”

Wushang glanced at Feng Zijin with some suspicion, unable to discern his true intentions.

He had just injured Xiu Ji, and now he offered aid. Was it some kind of plot?

Yet, out of courtesy, Wushang prepared to politely decline.

Before he could speak, Xiu Ji burst out angrily, “Get lost! Don’t pretend to be the good guy. When you slaughtered hundreds of civilians in Dayong, did you show a shred of mercy? When you set fire to Dayong Town, did you feel a hint of compassion?”

“And now you want to act the hero? This charade is far too childish!”

“What?”

Feng Zijin was taken aback. “You claim I slaughtered Dayong’s people and set fire to Dayong Town?”

“Why do you insist I am the culprit? Did you witness all this yourself?”

Pressed by his questions, Xiu Ji faltered. “I... I only saw a figure in white rampaging through the town, killing with ruthless methods.”

“I saw the back from a distance—it seemed familiar. After chasing out of Dayong Town with Senior Brother, I happened to see you setting a fire here. So am I falsely accusing you?”

“You’re mistaken!”

Feng Zijin smiled wryly. “There are countless people in white robes—how could I be the only one?”

“Moreover, I wasn’t starting a fire just now. On the contrary, I was putting it out!”

“Stop trying to talk your way out!” Xiu Ji shouted impatiently. “No matter how silver-tongued you become, I won’t believe you unless you bring me the real culprit!”

Bai Mu, watching from the shadows, couldn’t help but laugh coldly to himself. To think that after all their fighting, it was merely a battle over a misunderstanding.

The most exasperating was Xiu Ji from the Temple of the Returning Void. For all his size, he lacked the sense to match.

From the earlier exchange, it was clear Feng Zijin had held back against them. Had he seized the moment when Xiu Ji was stunned by the barrier and struck again, neither of the two would have survived, given Feng Zijin’s skill.

Besides, Bai Mu and Ling Yan had encountered Feng Zijin hurrying back from dozens of miles away. Judging by the time and distance, he had no chance to commit the crime, so he could safely be cleared of suspicion.

Though Ling Yan and Bai Mu understood the truth, there was little they could do with Xiu Ji’s unreasonable temperament. Thus, no matter how eloquently Feng Zijin argued, it was a case of a scholar meeting a soldier—reason could not prevail.