Anissa stood on the sidelines, frustration simmering just below the surface. She had committed to following Feng Zhiming’s orders, but the urge to leap into the fray was almost unbearable. Yet, as she watched him fight, her irritation began to give way to awe. Despite not being the fastest cultivator in terms of advancement, Feng Zhiming possessed an innate talent for combat that was undeniable. His movements were precise, his strikes calculated, and his ability to adapt to his opponent's tactics was impressive.
If they were on the same level, Anissa realized she might have to release her full strength just to damage him—and even then, she wasn’t sure she would win. Feng Zhiming had layers of skill and knowledge, secrets that made him an unpredictable and formidable adversary.
The remaining nine disciples began to understand that they couldn’t afford to underestimate him. Feng Zhiming had incapacitated four of their number with a single move each, a feat that should have been impossible given their equal standing in cultivation. But Feng Zhiming was no ordinary cultivator.
“Not one of you has a demonic phenomenon,” Feng Zhiming taunted, his voice dripping with disappointment. “How disappointing.”
One of the disciples, his pride wounded, charged at Feng Zhiming in a fit of rage. He was at the Actualized stage of the Ethereal Core, a level where he should have had the upper hand. But Feng Zhiming’s mastery of the Art of Demonic Cognizance allowed him to process his opponent’s movements with lightning speed, making it easy for him to dodge and counter each attack.
“You arrogant bastard, I’ll burn you to death!” the disciple, Li Zimo, snarled, his fists wreathed in flames as he lunged at Feng Zhiming.
But Feng Zhiming danced around him, effortlessly avoiding each strike. It was clear to Anissa that Feng Zhiming wasn’t just relying on brute strength; he was using a technique she had never seen before. With every dodge, he seemed to be learning more about his opponent, exploiting weaknesses and anticipating attacks before they were fully formed.
What truly set Feng Zhiming apart, however, was his Art of Demonic Resurgence. This technique allowed him to hyper-charge his healing by focusing his Qi on specific areas of his body. It was what enabled him to fight with such reckless abandon, knowing that even if his feet broke on impact with the ground, they would heal in the split second before he needed to use them again. It made him a nearly indestructible force in battle, able to push his body beyond its natural limits.
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“You’re name?” Feng Zhiming asked casually as he swept Li Zimo’s leg out from under him, forcing the disciple to backpedal hastily.
“Li Zimo,” the disciple growled, his mind reeling from the sheer absurdity of the situation. He was stronger, yet he was being toyed with. This defied everything he knew about the cultivation world.
“Li Zimo,” Feng Zhiming repeated, shaking his head slowly. “Why, despite the fact that I am dodging and countering all your punches, do you continue to use the same attacks?”
Li Zimo’s frustration boiled over. His flames flared brighter, larger, as he launched himself at Feng Zhiming once more. This time, his speed and power were enhanced by his rage, and one of his flaming fists connected with Feng Zhiming’s face, leaving a burn mark on his cheek.
“How’s that for damage?!” Li Zimo crowed, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.
Feng Zhiming, unfazed, slowly turned his head back to face Li Zimo. He caught the next flaming fist in his right hand, his smile widening even as the flames scorched his skin. The Art of Demonic Resurgence was already at work, healing the burns as quickly as they formed. “What damage?”
Li Zimo’s eyes widened in disbelief. His attack, which should have caused serious harm, was rendered insignificant by Feng Zhiming’s extraordinary healing speed.
Seizing the opportunity, Feng Zhiming delivered a powerful punch to Li Zimo’s stomach, channeling the Art of Demonic Release. The impact forced Li Zimo to his knees, where he vomited at Feng Zhiming’s feet. Feng Zhiming, anticipating the reaction, stepped back just in time to avoid the mess.
“Come help your ally, you bumbling buffoons!” Feng Zhiming shouted at the remaining disciples, his voice a mix of anger and mockery.
Four of them responded, charging at him with swords drawn. It was a calculated risk, but Feng Zhiming knew he needed to make a point.
He sent a mental transmission to Anissa. “Don’t do anything,” he ordered. Anissa, though her instincts screamed at her to intervene, nodded in compliance.
As the disciples closed in, Feng Zhiming stood his ground, even as Li Zimo, driven by anger and humiliation, staggered back to his feet and swung another flaming fist at him. This time, the punch landed squarely on Feng Zhiming’s bare chest, the flames roaring to life as they sought to consume him.
The four swords found their mark as well, piercing his torso from four different directions, forming a crude X with his body at the center.
The flames intensified, engulfing Feng Zhiming completely in a blazing inferno. The disciples, thinking they had finally overcome him, began to back away in relief.
But from within the flames, a sound emerged, a low, dark chuckle.
"Is that all? You can’t even slay an ant with this much effort."
The flames began to dissipate, revealing Feng Zhiming standing tall, his body covered in burns that were rapidly healing before their eyes, thanks to the Art of Demonic Resurgence. The swords still protruded from his body, but he seemed unfazed, as if the pain was a mere inconvenience.
The disciples were paralyzed with fear, their swords still lodged in his flesh. They had no idea what kind of monster they were facing.