Volume Two: The Youth of a Thousand Faces, Truth in Disguise Chapter Sixty-One: The Talisman

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Feng Wuming listened to Huo Ye’s words in silence for a long time before asking, “May I know what your dream is, Brother Huo?”

Huo Ye raised his teacup with a smile, replying casually, “It’s no secret. I want to drive away all calamities, to quell the flames of war, and to create a world where no one loses their children, lovers, or parents because of conflict—a place where everyone can live in peace and prosperity. What do you think, is it too idealistic? It sounds rather arrogant, doesn’t it?”

Feng Wuming also lifted his teacup and said, “Indeed, it’s a grand ambition. Please.”

“Please.”

The two toasted, slowly drank the tea, then gently set their cups down, gazing at each other with narrowed eyes and silent smiles.

After a long while, Feng Wuming finally spoke, “Brother Huo, the tea set was also exchanged for points. Would you mind if I put it away first?”

“Of course.”

“I have greatly enjoyed our conversation, Brother Huo. I believe we could become friends.”

“Certainly. Let’s go out for tea together sometime.”

Once Feng Wuming had stored the tea set in his system’s inventory...

Cutting down the sunset
Blue silk entwined

Almost simultaneously, they moved. Huo Ye’s twin blades slashed together from the left and right, but were tightly ensnared by Feng Wuming’s whisk. Their hands, gripping their weapons, trembled endlessly until Huo Ye broke free and performed the Dance of the Circle.

One blade swept in a circle, the other shadowed its motion. Feng Wuming ducked low to avoid it. The longer the weapon, the stronger; the shorter, the craftier. With a flick of his wrist, the whisk’s silvery threads, once soft, now struck like steel needles toward Huo Ye—piercing the heavens and bone.

Huo Ye leaned back, dodging the fierce attack, then retreated to widen the distance.

Their exchange had only been a test; both knew such simple moves could not harm the other.

From that brief contact, Huo Ye already had a sense of Feng Wuming’s combat style: subtle and entangling. These were the two key words to describe Feng Wuming’s fighting, befitting the characteristics of wind-type ability users. After all, fire, lightning, and darkness had always dominated direct combat.

Though Huo Ye followed Eddie’s teachings, his style was quite different from Eddie’s ferocious beast-like approach.

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In Eddie’s presence, no matter how powerful the enemy, as long as he charged forward wielding his battle scythe, nothing in the world could withstand his assault. He was the world’s most indomitable blade.

But Huo Ye preferred to turn the enemy’s own methods against them.

His learning was broad but not specialized, which was both his weakness and his strength. His ever-changing style resisted rigidity, allowing him to draw from many schools and letting every battle serve as a lesson for growth. Huo Ye’s journey had always been one of learning through combat.

Huo Ye took a deep breath, channeling dark-type abilities into wisps that wrapped around his blades, like thousands of ink-stained threads, or serpents coiling and crawling at will.

He crossed his twin blades, pointing them at the ground. The heavy breathing instantly made Feng Wuming feel the threat of death. In the next moment, Huo Ye vanished from sight.

Fourth Form: Phantom Myriad

Huo Ye closed in instantly, sweeping his blade horizontally.

Feng Wuming instinctively used Blue Silk Entwine again, but as soon as the whisk’s threads touched the blade, countless black threads reversed and bound them tightly, immobilizing the whisk. Feng Wuming sensed danger, trying to withdraw his whisk, but no matter how he exerted force, his strength was deftly deflected. The blade remained unmoving.

Eighth Form: Endless Bind

But Huo Ye wielded more than one blade. A cold gleam flashed. Cold sweat broke out on Feng Wuming’s forehead. He decisively let go of his whisk, narrowly avoiding the decapitating strike.

That blade was like a venomous snake lunging out in the night. One bite would mean certain doom—not just ruin, but immediate death.

Yet Feng Wuming did not only evade. As he retreated, he pointed forward, sending an invisible wind spike toward Huo Ye’s left eye.

Piercing Finger

Feng Wuming was unconcerned whether this move was underhanded. The original purpose of VRF was to allow them to attack without restraint, so they could respond with the most effective offense when facing calamities.

Feng Wuming thought this would make Huo Ye wary, but to his surprise, Huo Ye was utterly mad—the wind spike pierced straight through Huo Ye’s left eye, even exiting through the back of his skull. Yet his pursuit was uninterrupted.

Was this man even human? The human eye is directly connected to the brain—such a strike would surely have pierced the brain as well. How monstrous is your recovery ability, Brother Huo?

Huo Ye was not unscathed; aside from the pain of having fragile organs like his eye and brain pierced, just regenerating from such a tiny wound consumed energy equivalent to a palm’s worth—since these organs were both delicate and complex. Of course, rapid recovery itself was energy-intensive.

The room where they drank tea was small—so small that Feng Wuming, after just a few steps back, found his back pressed against the wall. He had to admit, Huo Ye had the advantage at the outset.

But it was only the beginning.

Sixth Form: Blood-Edge Thrust

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Huo Ye’s blade tip stabbed straight at Feng Wuming’s heart. The blade, with only one edge, was a weapon for killing on the battlefield, though not suited for thrusting. Yet with Huo Ye’s dark-type ability, it seemed to gain a force capable of piercing the heavens—sharp, dangerous, unstoppable.

The color of the ability changed, from deep black to sinister crimson—the color of blood.

Blood-Edge Thrust: the assault will not cease until blood is drawn.

Feng Wuming was too close to Huo Ye to defend; all he could do was dodge.

“Pfft—”

The wall of the temple was made of earth; when the long blade pierced it, it produced only a muffled sound. In the instant the thin blade penetrated the wall, countless crimson lines spread outward from the knife mark, like the roots of a plant, running rampant across the wall, expanding, and then causing it to collapse.

Feng Wuming wiped cold sweat from his brow and said, “That ability of yours is ruthless. If I were stabbed, it would be my body falling apart instead.”

Huo Ye shook the dirt from his blade and replied, “Against calamities, the more destructive the move, the better. Thrusting maximizes the weapon’s reach, and afterward, causing wide-scale destruction increases the chance of exposing the calamity’s true form.”

“I see. The logic behind your ability is quite clear.” Feng Wuming pondered for a moment, then said, “Since you’re so open, willing to share your abilities, I shouldn’t hold back either.”

As soon as he finished, Feng Wuming drew a yellow sheet of paper from beneath his robe, covered in mysterious characters drawn in vermillion. These symbols seemed to contain a mysterious power.

Talismans—this was beyond Huo Ye’s knowledge. In the era of abilities, people only encountered concepts of spirits and gods in legends and media.

Talismans seemed to have vanished from history with the rise of materialism, yet Feng Wuming’s talisman, Huo Ye was certain, was a kind of ability.

Feng Wuming released his grip, and the talisman floated in the air. Then he formed a seal with his fingers, shouted loudly, and struck the talisman. Immediately, fire appeared from nowhere, burning it to ashes.

A fire-type ability? Huo Ye wondered. No, this was like a spell.

Before Huo Ye could grasp what it was, an explosive bang erupted before him. He felt as if an invisible bomb had struck his abdomen. The violent shockwave instantly propelled him toward the temple wall, smashing a huge hole, yet the force did not stop.

An airburst!

Huo Ye had no idea how far he was blasted away; he only felt his internal organs, protected by dense muscle, had been injured. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth, then stopped immediately. That single talisman had penetrated his defenses and wounded his organs—its attack was highly penetrating.

Huo Ye got up from the ground, a strange smile curling at his lips.