I just became the Pirate King, and you're telling me I also time-traveled at the same time.

Chapter 1101 Rotating Fluids

Master Chifeng's expression finally changed.

It wasn't fear, but rather a solemn recognition that Sun Wukong's power was at least one level stronger than he had anticipated.

"Who exactly are you?" Master Chifeng asked in a deep voice, his voice slightly hoarse.

Taking that blow head-on consumed a lot of his demonic power.

"I'm someone you can't afford to mess with." Sun Wukong's face looked particularly ferocious under the golden light.

A smile still lingered on his lips—but it was a completely different smile from the one he had when sparring with Chu Yang in the peach grove.

The laughter just now was joyful, but this laughter is violent, the last smile of a volcano that has been suppressed for hundreds of years and has finally found an outlet before erupting.

He abruptly pulled back his staff, his body spinning halfway through the air, the golden cudgel sweeping towards Master Chifeng's waist from the side.

This strike was even faster than the previous one, the staff drawing a golden arc in the air. Before it even touched Master Chifeng, it had already swept three peach trees ten feet behind him in half.

Master Chifeng did not take the hit head-on this time.

He leaned back, and the crimson blade unleashed a curtain of blades in front of him, composed of countless fine blade energies, like a shield.

The golden cudgel struck the blade barrier, shattering half of the blade's energy. The other half rebounded and shot towards Sun Wukong's face and chest.

Sun Wukong didn't block him; he opened his mouth and blew a breath. The blade energy was completely deflected by his breath, flying diagonally into the sky and disappearing into the clouds.

The two men separated by a distance of three zhang (approximately 10 meters).

Master Chifeng stood with both feet on the ground, his red sword held horizontally in front of him. The tip of the sword trembled slightly, not from his hand, but from the natural vibration caused by the sword bearing too much impact.

His breathing was a little heavier than before, but not rapid.

Sun Wukong landed by the pool, his golden cudgel plunging into the water beside him. The water, upon contact with the high temperature of the cudgel's surface, hissed and a cloud of white mist rose up.

"That's impressive." Sun Wukong wiped his mouth. "Much more impressive than Chu Yang."

Chu Yang heard this from behind the boulder, his face expressionless.

Master Chifeng switched the red sword to his left hand, and there was a thin bloodstain on the tiger's mouth of his right hand, which was caused by the shock when he took the first blow.

He casually wiped his right hand on his robe, then gripped the hilt of his sword again.

"You are very strong," said Master Chifeng, his tone devoid of flattery, merely a warrior's honest assessment of another warrior. "But you are not an enemy of the Tiangang Sect."

All the Heavenly Gang Sect wanted was that pill.

"Stop now, take your monkey and leave. I won't chase you."

"Too late." Sun Wukong pulled his golden cudgel out of the water. The water droplets it kicked up as it emerged were burned into white mist by the high temperature. "You kicked my monkey."

Master Chifeng fell silent.

He turned the knife tip from being held horizontally in front of him to pointing it at the ground, leaned his body slightly forward, and lowered his center of gravity.

This posture is completely different from before—it was a defensive stance before, but now it has become a pure offensive stance.

The pebbles beneath his feet began to vibrate violently, not from the vibrations, but from the demonic power emanating from him. They floated up one by one, suspended in mid-air, forming a vortex of pebbles around his body.

Jiang Yan watched from the side the whole time.

He didn't interfere in the duel between Master Chifeng and Sun Wukong; that was beyond his reach.

His task was to locate the Golden Elixir and, if necessary, enter the cave to retrieve it.

While Sun Wukong was fighting Chifeng Zhenren, he had already quietly moved to the side of the cave entrance, less than five steps away from the entrance.

But he overlooked one person.

A dagger flew from behind him, grazed his ear, and embedded itself in the mountain wall in front of him.

The dagger was driven in with extreme precision—if Jiang Yan had taken even half a step more, the dagger would have been embedded in the back of his head.

Jiang Yan stopped and turned around.

Chu Yang emerged from behind the boulder.

He didn't watch the battle between Sun Wukong and Chifeng Zhenren; his self-aura was locked onto Jiang Yan.

He no longer had a dagger in his hand—the dagger embedded in the mountain wall was his only one.

He stood empty-handed in front of Jiang Yan, his body slightly turned to the side, his feet shoulder-width apart.

"Your opponent is me," Chu Yang said.

Jiang Yan glanced at Chu Yang, and his Barrier-Breaking Eyes activated automatically, allowing him to see the strange gray mist and silver threads within Chu Yang's body once again.

He frowned—this person wasn't strong, at least not in terms of spiritual power, but the gray mist made him feel a kind of inexplicable unease.

When the Barrier-Breaking Eyes scans the gray fog, the image becomes blurry, as if a layer of frosted glass is blocking the gray fog between the pupil and the fog, making it impossible to see what the gray fog actually is.

"You can't stop me," Jiang Yan said.

This is not a threat, nor is it contempt; it is a judgment based on facts.

He could sense that Chu Yang's spiritual power was on a completely different level from his own.

"Give it a try," Chu Yang said.

Jiang Yan drew his sword.

His sword was a standard longsword of the Tiangang Sect, with a blade three fingers wide and three feet long, entirely silver-white, and the hilt wrapped with black animal hide.

When the sword was drawn, it emitted a clear and melodious dragon's roar, which echoed over the pool for a long time before dissipating.

His sword strike was incredibly fast; from the moment the tip emerged from the scabbard to the moment it pierced Chu Yang's chest, almost no time elapsed.

This sword strike was not a test, but a killing move.

The swordsmanship of the Tiangang Sect has no feints; every strike is aimed at a vital point.

Chu Yang did not dodge.

His body veered half an inch to the right before the sword tip touched his chest. The blade grazed his chest, tearing his clothes but not touching his skin.

Before the sword could be retracted, Chu Yang's right hand was already on the back of Jiang Yan's sword.

It wasn't a grab, it was a tap with my knuckles.

The point to strike is one-third of the way from the tip of the sword to the back of the blade—that's the point where the sword vibrates at its highest frequency.

With that strike, Jiang Yan's longsword emitted a muffled thud, and the blade vibrated violently. The vibrations traveled to the base of Jiang Yan's hand, making his wrist go numb.

Jiang Yan's expression changed slightly.

He immediately drew his sword and retreated, creating three steps of distance between himself and his sword. He looked down at his sword—there was nothing on the blade, the vibration had stopped, but his hand was still tingling.

He raised his head and looked at Chu Yang again, his eyes different from before.

This person wasn't lying—his spiritual power wasn't strong, but his understanding of weapon structure had reached a terrifying level.

Tapping the back of the sword with your knuckles to disrupt your opponent's grip stability is a skill that cannot be learned through training, but rather honed through countless real combat experiences.

"Who are you?" Jiang Yan asked.

"Just passing by." Chu Yang walked to the edge of the cliff and pulled out the dagger that was embedded in it.

The dagger was driven three inches deep, and when it was pulled out, it brought out a small amount of stone dust.

Over there, the battle between Sun Wukong and Master Chifeng had entered a fierce stage.

The vortex of gravel created by Master Chifeng has expanded to cover the entire gravel slope.

Thousands upon thousands of pebbles spun rapidly around him, each one turning into a deadly projectile.

He plunged the crimson blade into the ground in front of him, formed hand seals, and channeled demonic power into the vortex of rubble through the seals. The vortex suddenly contracted and then exploded.

The pebbles shot towards Sun Wukong.

It wasn't a random scattering, but a targeted, layered downpour—first, a batch of fist-sized stones hurled at Sun Wukong's face, forcing him to raise his hand to block; then, a second batch of finger-sized pebbles followed closely, targeting Sun Wukong's eyes and throat; finally, a third batch, countless soybean-sized pebbles, mixed in with the gaps between the first two batches, shot through, sealing off all his angles of evasion.

Sun Wukong did not dodge.

He took a deep breath, held the golden cudgel upright in front of him, then opened his mouth and roared.

That wasn't an ordinary roar—it was a sound wave, an extremely low-frequency sound wave, invisible to the naked eye but perceptible.

Centered on Sun Wukong, the ground in front of him was overturned by the impact of the sound waves. It wasn't blown up, but rather shattered into powder by the sound waves and then rolled up to form a stone powder wall three zhang high.

All the pebbles shot out by Master Chifeng hit the stone powder wall and were either bounced away or shattered by the sound waves; not a single one hit Sun Wukong.

The sound waves penetrated the stone powder wall and continued forward, striking Master Chifeng.

Master Chifeng wasn't pushed away by the sound waves; rather, his internal organs were churning from the shockwaves.

His protective demonic power was briefly shaken by the impact of the sound waves. It felt as if an invisible giant hammer had struck his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

He took three steps back to dissipate the power of the sound waves, each step leaving a deep footprint in the ground.

"You can also use sound attacks?" Master Chifeng steadied himself, his voice carrying a hint of undisguised surprise.

"What's so special about that?" Sun Wukong twirled his golden cudgel twice in his hand, the golden light on the cudgel burning brighter and brighter. "I, Old Sun, know a lot more than this. I'll teach you slowly today."

After saying that, he pounced on him again.

This time he didn't use a stick, but his fists.

He used his left hand to deflect Master Chifeng's red sword with his staff, and with his right hand clenched into a fist, he hooked upwards toward Master Chifeng's chin.

There was no golden light on the fist, only pure brute force.

Master Chifeng tilted his head to dodge the punch, which grazed his ear and struck the air behind him.

A sharp sonic boom echoed through the air as the force of the punch created a brief vacuum. As the surrounding air rushed in to fill the void, it produced a loud "bang."

Taking advantage of the moment when Sun Wukong threw a punch, Master Chifeng slashed diagonally with his red blade, aiming at Sun Wukong's left wrist holding the staff.

The angle of this strike was extremely tricky. If Sun Wukong withdrew his fist to defend, he wouldn't have time to stop; if he stopped, he wouldn't have time to stop his fist. Either way, he would get hit.

The array patterns on the blade lit up the moment it was slashed out, and a dark red blade light extended from the blade, turning the four-foot-long blade into a ten-foot-long light blade.

Sun Wukong released his left hand before the blade's edge touched his wrist.

The moment the golden cudgel fell from his left hand, he kicked it with his left foot, his toe striking the end of the cudgel. The cudgel was kicked and spun around, flying over his back and past his right shoulder, where it was caught by his right hand.

Then he pressed down with his right hand holding the stick, the stick pressing down on the light blade of the red sword, deflecting the blade's direction.

The blade of light grazed the outside of Sun Wukong's left arm, leaving a shallow bloodstain. This was the first time that Master Chifeng had truly injured Sun Wukong so far.

Blood seeped from the wound, flowing down Sun Wukong's arm and dripping onto the ground.

Sun Wukong glanced down at his wound, then looked up at Master Chifeng, the golden light in his eyes shining even brighter than before.

"Good knife," he said, then grinned.

That smile made Master Chifeng's heart skip a beat.

In his three thousand years of cultivation, Master Chifeng had seen countless opponents—fearful, angry, calm, and insane—but he had never seen any opponent show such a smile after being injured.

That wasn't the smile of a warrior enjoying battle, but the smile of a wild beast that had been imprisoned for too long and was finally released from its cage.

Sun Wukong handed the golden cudgel to his left hand and clenched his right fist.

Golden lines began to appear on his fists—not from the outside, but from beneath his skin, as if golden magma was flowing in his veins.

The lines started from the surface of his fist and spread upwards, passing through his wrist, climbing up his forearm, and finally stopping at his elbow.

Master Chifeng took a step back warily.

He could sense that Sun Wukong's aura had increased by at least 100% in that instant.

This person was holding back his power the whole time—not out of respect for his opponent, but simply because he felt that level of power was sufficient.

Now he's starting to take it seriously.

"Jiang Yan!" Master Chifeng shouted in a deep voice, "Take the pill! Ignore this area!"

Upon hearing the order, Jiang Yan withdrew his gaze from Master Chifeng.

He looked at Chu Yang again, twirling his longsword in his hand, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground.

"I need to go there," he said, his tone still so calm, as if stating an objective fact.

Chu Yang weighed the dagger in his hand.

The dagger was short; Jiang Yan's sword was three times longer.

"You can give it a try," he said.

The two rushed at each other almost simultaneously.

When Jiang Yan's sword was three inches away from Chu Yang's throat, Chu Yang made a move that Chu Yang had never expected.

He didn't block or dodge, but instead went straight for it, ramming his chest into the tip of the sword.

Jiang Yan's pupils suddenly contracted.

At that moment, the Eye of Penetration automatically activated to its maximum, allowing him to clearly see the trajectory of the gray mist within Chu Yang's body—the gray mist rapidly gathered in front of Chu Yang's chest, condensing into a palm-sized gray mist shield, with an extremely fine silver-white core at the center of the shield, resembling a miniature vortex.

The feeling of the sword tip piercing the fog shield was not like piercing flesh or metal, but rather like piercing a highly dense, constantly rotating fluid.

The force on the sword tip was deflected by the rotation of the mist shield, and the sword slid past Chu Yang's chest, grazing his left shoulder and missing its mark.

Jiang Yan's swordplay had aged, but Chu Yang's body squeezed in during the gap.