The Author's Draft-Chapter 28: King’s Wrath

Elder Feng was King Realm Stage 1.

Long Chen knew that the moment their spiritual pressures clashed. The gap between them wasn’t just large—it was a chasm. Three full realms. Foundation Establishment, Core Condensation, and King.

Each realm was a fundamental transformation. New pathways. New understanding. New power.

Fighting across one realm was considered genius-level talent.

Two realms? Legendary.

Three?

Suicide.

But Elder Feng had just broken through. Long Chen could feel it in the way his aura fluctuated slightly, still settling, still adjusting to the new realm.

Fresh King Realm versus peak Qi acquisition with Sword Aura.

’Not impossible. Just nearly impossible.’

Elder Feng moved first.

His sword came down in a vertical slash, casual, like swatting a fly. Spiritual energy coated the blade—King Realm qi, dense and overwhelming.

Long Chen met it with Demon Dweller.

Sword Aura flared around his blade. Second stage. Projected. The invisible energy extended half a meter beyond the steel, sharpening the edge to something that could cut through anything.

Their weapons collided.

The shockwave cracked the ground beneath Long Chen’s feet. His arms screamed. The force rattled through his bones, nearly tearing the sword from his grip.

But he held, luckily for him elder Feng didn’t have sword aura.

Elder Feng’s eyes widened slightly. "You blocked it?"

Long Chen didn’t answer. He twisted his blade, redirecting the elder’s sword to the side, and countered with Void-Splitting Strike.

Fast. Precise. Aimed at the throat.

Elder Feng sidestepped. The strike missed by inches. His expression shifted from surprise to mild interest.

"Second stage Sword Aura," the elder said. "At your age. Impressive, makes me all the more interested in that treasure you have."

He attacked again. Three strikes in rapid succession. Each one faster than the last.

Long Chen blocked the first. His Sword Aura meeting the elder’s raw power. He dodged the second with Phantom Step. Parried the third, but the impact sent him skidding backward five meters.

’His strength is—’

Elder Feng closed the distance instantly. His blade came from the left. Long Chen blocked. From the right. Blocked again. From above—

The strike broke through.

Not completely. Long Chen’s Sword Aura deflected most of it. But the flat of the blade still caught his shoulder, and the force lifted him off his feet.

He hit the ground hard, rolling, gasping.

"You’re skilled," Elder Feng said, walking toward him slowly. "For a Qi acquisition cultivator. Your techniques are refined. Your Sword Aura, impressive. But—"

He raised his sword, spiritual pressure increasing.

"You lack experience. And power."

Long Chen pushed himself upright, breathing hard. Blood trickled from his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue during the landing.

The elder was right. His techniques were lethal—he’d trained them to perfection in the back mountains. But technique only carried you so far when your opponent could overpower you with raw cultivation.

’I need an opening.’

Elder Feng attacked again. This time without holding back.

His sword moved in combinations Long Chen recognized—dugu clan’s exclusive techniques, refined over decades. Each strike flowed into the next, creating a pattern meant to overwhelm.

Long Chen met them. Blocked what he could. Dodged what he couldn’t. His Sword Aura clashed with the elder’s qi over and over, white light flaring with each impact.

He was faster. His Phantom Step let him create distance, reposition, avoid fatal blows.

But the elder was stronger. Each blocked strike sent shockwaves up Long Chen’s arms. Each parry drained his qi reserves. And each exchange pushed him closer to his limit.

’Can’t keep this up—’

Then Elder Feng’s expression changed. His eyes narrowed, focusing.

Long Chen felt it a second too late.

Spiritual pressure slammed into his mind.

A soul attack.

Pain exploded behind his eyes. The world tilted. His grip on Demon Dweller loosened. His knees buckled.

The attack burrowed into his consciousness, tearing at his thoughts, his memories, his sense of self—

Golden light erupted from within.

Tian Long manifested. The Celestial Dragon martial spirit roared, its presence filling Long Chen’s mind, and the soul attack shattered like glass against stone.

The pain vanished.

Long Chen’s eyes snapped open.

Elder Feng stood three meters away, his expression shifting from confidence to shock. "How!"

Long Chen didn’t give him time to finish.

He drew in a breath. Channeled qi through specific meridians and let his dragon bloodline flow into his throat.

Then he released it.

"ROAR!"

The sound that erupted wasn’t human.

It was deep, guttural, primal. A dragon’s roar condensed into pure spiritual pressure. The technique hit Elder Feng like a physical blow, bypassing his body entirely, striking directly at his soul.

The elder’s eyes went wide. Blood sprayed from his mouth. He stumbled backward, clutching his head, his spiritual pressure flickering violently.

Soul damage.

Dragon Roar had caught him completely off guard.

Long Chen didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance with Phantom Step, Demon Dweller already moving.

Heavenrend.

Every drop of qi he had left poured into the technique. Sword Aura blazed white-hot, condensing into a single devastating arc. The strike tore through the air, leaving a visible trail of distorted space.

Elder Feng tried to block.

But he was too slow. Too disoriented from the soul attack.

The arc struck his chest.

Blood exploded. The impact carved a deep gash from shoulder to hip, cutting through protective qi like it wasn’t there. Elder Feng screamed, his body flying backward, crashing into a tree hard enough to split it in half.

He collapsed. Didn’t move. Blood pooled beneath him.

Long Chen stood there, breathing hard, Demon Dweller trembling in his grip. His qi reserves were nearly empty. His body ached. But the elder was down.

’Die!!!.’

He raised his blade and started forward.

Then Elder Feng’s hand moved.

It shot to his robe. Pulled something free. A small jade bottle.

’No—’

The elder’s fingers closed around it. He brought it to his mouth. Bit down.

A pill.

The moment it touched his tongue, spiritual energy exploded outward.

Long Chen felt the pressure spike. Felt Elder Feng’s aura surge, expand, multiply.

King Realm Stage 1.

Stage 2.

Stage 3.

It kept climbing.

Stage 4. Stage 5. Stage 6.

Stage 7.

The pressure stopped there, but it was enough. More than enough.

Elder Feng stood slowly. The wound on his chest was still there, still bleeding, but his eyes burned with fury and power.

"You," he said, his voice shaking with rage, "should have killed me when you had the chance."

His spiritual pressure rolled across the clearing like a tsunami. Trees bent. The ground cracked. The air itself grew heavy.

Long Chen tried to move, tried to raise his blade.

His body wouldn’t obey.

The pressure was too much. It pressed down on him like a mountain, forcing him to his knees.

Elder Feng raised his sword. "I’ll make this slow."

He attacked.

The first strike caught Long Chen’s shoulder. Sword Aura barely deflected it, but the impact shattered his collarbone. He screamed.

The second struck his ribs. Three of them cracked. Blood filled his mouth.

The third hit his leg. His knee buckled. He collapsed completely, face hitting the dirt.

"Pathetic," Elder Feng spat. He grabbed Long Chen by the hair, yanked his head back. "You thought you could fight a King? You thought your tricks meant anything?"

His sword pressed against Long Chen’s throat.

"I’ll take your treasure after you’re dead. And that cursed sword. Everything you have—"

Long Chen couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His qi was gone. His body broken. His vision swimming.

’Is this it?’